Thankfully, Katrina doesn’t have segmented legs or multifaceted eyes – but she’s still as beautiful and graceful as a dragonfly, and as deadly as you never knew the odonata could be.

———————————-

Guest Post from Jessica Zellman, author of Odonata: City of Night

The idea for Odonata: City of Night literally buzzed past me while I sat in my backyard one summer afternoon. I had just finished reading a godawful vampire book (which shall remain nameless) and the feminist in me was on a rampage. Why were the vampire protagonists always male and so much more powerful than their young, naïve, human lovers? I wanted a kickass leading lady. Not a vampire hunter. That’s already been done by writers I admire. I considered a female vampire interested in a human male, but that didn’t seem original enough either. I wanted my characters to be equals, or at least on the same playing field.

Then a mosquito bit my arm.

Everyone hates mosquitoes. Nasty little bloodsuckers. It occurred to me that they are just mini-vampires, flying around, sucking people’s blood. On the other hand, I love dragonflies. They’re pretty and amazing to watch, and they eat mosquitoes. So what if there was a supernatural predator who, like a dragonfly, ate vampires? I did some research on dragonflies and found the Latin group name for my favorite insect: Odonata. “Oh-done-ah-tah.” That just sounds cool.

I read somewhere that dragonflies can’t move until the morning sun hits them. It made sense for a vampire predator to be a creature of the sun as opposed to vampires, creatures of the night.

My main character, Katrina, came to me pretty quickly after that. I imagined her standing in the bright Los Angeles sunlight, red hair blazing like a fiery sunset. She looked at me with intense blue eyes and said, “Vampires believe themselves to be the ultimate predators, but they aren’t. I am.”

To which my only response could be, “Okay then, let’s go.”

To my readers, I hope you enjoy the ride. City of Night is just the beginning.

And to Adri, thanks for being the best editor ever and for letting me take over your blog for a day.

-Jes

First things first. (Wait, why do we say that? Why wouldn’t first things be first? Would first things ever be last? What’s the point? First things in the middle… no wait, that doesn’t make any sense either.) Never mind, I’m moving along. That’s the last time I’m using a title as long as The Electrifying Exploits of the English Three. I loved it when I was writing; everyone ooh’d and aah’d over its neatness. I’m not entirely sure how I came up with it, for those who’ve asked me before. I just started thinking of what the book was about. Exploits. Three English women. There’s a lot of electrical stuff involved. Then it just sort of hit me. Alliteration is my friend. Usually.

I am proud of thinking of it, but when you get to the editing phase of publication, that title follows you around everywhere. Adri and I stretched the limitations of the ability to name a file. Who knew there was a character limit? I didn’t. Woops. For a while, we used EEE3 instead. It stuck as a nickname, actually. Even on Twitter, I’m tempted to use EEE3 so it will fit. Then people asked me what the hell I was talking about. And when you’re obsessing over numbers and reviews, you have to google it often. That’s a lot of typing. Thank goodness for predictive text. (For once.)

As for the writing of the EEE3, the characters came to me in a non-standard way. Generally, when I think of something to write, I have this scene in my head, then I expound on it. What is going on in the scene? Where are they? Who is involved? What’s their name, motive, clothing, etc?

With these characters, I had actual people in mind. They originally started out loosely based on me and two other friends who would occasionally meet for coffee and have laughs. On Twitter, we would chat about how our kids were driving us to the brink of climbing clock towers. Somehow, it morphed into someone climbing the clock tower, someone being in charge of bringing the coffee, someone else bringing the ammo, and then scheduling it just so we would be home on time to meet our children at the bus stop. It was a mad day online. No, of course we don’t condone taking out your aggressions of general anxiety by climbing the local tower and picking people off. It was just ‘one of those days.’ Please don’t send me hate mail.

For some reason, the conversation stuck with me and it somehow melded into the English Three’s story. The witty, wild trio just trying to do their job sensibly – no matter what the job entailed.

The Three include Jillian – the daughter of the proprietor of the most exclusive and elusive club in London, Miss Merriweather’s. She’s managed to dodge the marriage bullet her friends had not time to dodge. She enjoys tea, whist with her friends, and leisurely walks in the park.
Then we have Miriam – the wife of an abusive, controlling alcoholic who is responsible for gambling away their title and land. She enjoys coffee, quiet talks with her friends, and indexing ways of how to off her husband.

Lastly, we have Eliza – the estranged wife of an older gentleman. She keeps a house in the city while he tries to lure her away to the country, to no avail. Eliza prefers being alone in London, *cough* balls, and the company of others.

The men are somewhat condensed. One is a rake, one is a gentleman, and one is a mystery.

I did enjoy writing this piece more than others did. It seemed to flow easy until I got to the revising part. That was kind of painful. But don’t tell Adri – I did like being able to pick this thing apart and put it back together. Painful yes, but very well worth it.

Thanks for reading!
E.

—————————

From Adri: All I can say is that I wish I’d known about the clock tower daydreams before I…er…tastefully suggested revisions to the manuscript. I might have been a little more delicate. And worn kevlar. ~coughs~

Plus, check out Wednesday Peters on the cover. Isn’t that thing (the cover, not Wednesday) freakin’ gorgeous?

Guest Post From Ashley: Where Did Originality Disappear To?

First of all, I want to thank Adrien for giving me this opportunity.

In researching The Witching Hour, I found myself not only choosing various pagan gods, but going back and reading stories about them. What I found in doing so was a rich tradition of story-telling not so different from what writers do today, that is, the ancients were taking themes and tales that already existed and putting their own spin on it.

We often hear people saying there is no such thing as an original idea anymore. In my research, I found that if you want to say there’s no such thing as an original idea anymore, you’d have to say there was never any such thing as an original idea. Since the beginning of time there have been several themes that resonates in each of us. Themes that have been a part of our lives since we were children.

For example, in The Witching Hour, the theme is a modern take on heroism and the conflict is man vs. god(s).

I took the idea of a hero like Perseus or Hercules, who were both sent on epic quests meant to test their fortitude by the gods, and made it something relevant to today. I also stripped the gods of their infinite powers and gave the power to the humans being tested. In doing so, I think I’ve managed to create a believable conflict of man vs. god(s).

But again, this is a theme that is ever present in books and movies, what I’ve done is just managed to give it my own spin.

The point is this–no, there are no original ideas, but there will always be original spins on old ideas.

You may also take note of the links strewn throughout the post, and make with the clicky-clicky. C’mon. You know you want to.

——————————–

Liz:

So, I was a very bad author and was gone during the release of my urban fantasy, Bound by Blood, I also totally owed my BRILLIANT editor a blog….so this is my attempt at making amends and pimping my book at the same time. *grin*

Five reasons I love my editor:

1) He asked me which color hi-lighter I wanted him to use to…ehem…artfully and constructively tear apart my manuscript. In case you are wondering…I went with purple…it might as well be pretty right? Although I am pretty sure it looked like Barney the Dinosaur bled all over my manuscript by the time he was done with it.

2) He put lovely comments about “werewolf morning wood” in my manuscript…which led to me spewing coffee all over my laptop…through my nose…

3) He was constantly patient and understanding, even when my computer set out to doom us all.

4) He took my April fools joke about turning my dark urban fantasy into a musical featuring Tom Jones songs and my alpha hero Bryce wearing a sequined shirt…without murdering me.

5) He also hasn’t murdered me with his red pen, despite the fact I may have been stranded during my book’s release and didn’t supply him with a guest blog.

In all seriousness, I owe a great deal to Adrien for all the amazing insight, patience and help he provided me with throughout the process of editing Bound by Blood, and I am so proud of the finished product. So thank you Adrien! *passes you some Kona coffee, with a side of rum*

Now…that I have successfully groveled at my editor’s feet….*grin* I am going to pimp my book! If you enjoy urban fantasy, vampires, hot biting, lots of action packed gun fights, then you might want to check out Bound by Blood!

Thanks for letting me stop by…even though I was tragically late!

~Elizabeth Darvill
www.elizabethdarvill.com

You know what day this is, right? Of course you do. It’s the release day for Rogue’s Curse, Jason Beymer’s debut novel, available from Lyrical Press. (For only $5.50. My lunch costs more than that. C’mon. It’s worth it.)

Seeing this book debut is like watching my firstborn child leave for their first day of school. If I had a firstborn child. If I wasn’t as child-friendly as an uncovered electrical socket. The point is, when a book is published its successful release isn’t just the pride of the author and his family, friends, and demon minions. It’s the pride of all the people who worked on it: the copy/content editor(me!), their senior editor(s), the line editors, the cover artist, the production manager, the review coordinator…the list goes on and on. It’s a group effort, one where the author is central but not entirely alone in their investment in the book. There’s a whole team of people who care about that book, who take pride in its success.

I definitely take pride in Rogue’s Curse, and in Jason.

It’s only by random chance that I ended up working on this book. I’ve only been with Lyrical Press for about six months now; before that I was working as a freelance editor. When I first started I was told I’d be taking on some previously contracted authors they thought would be a good fit for me, until I started to pick my own from the slush pile. So here I was, several books already on my list, all of them interesting, exciting, fun. Apparently my senior editor gauged my tastes well, because I’ve yet to edit a single book that I didn’t love.

Jason, though…Jason was my first.

I’ll be honest: I didn’t know what to expect. I was used to authors coming to me as a contractor, hiring me because they trust my expertise, and generally placing the reins in my hands. The relationship works a little differently when you work for a publisher. I’d heard horror stories about dealing with difficult authors on the publisher’s side: everything from delayed releases caused by author meltdowns to month-long arguments over non-conventional apostrophe use as visual art. In truth, I expected Jason to be a nightmare. Arrogant, stubborn, utterly lacking in common sense, and refusing to budge on so much as a misspelled word or a godawful pet phrase.

Instead he proved why you should never make assumptions or believe stereotypes.

His sense of humor caught me from the first page of Rogue’s Curse, and proved utterly infectious – to the point where my senior editor made me tone down my silly comments when I left editorial notes throughout the book. (I believe there was something in there about Godzilla and octogenarian poontang.) Before I’d even really had a significant dialogue with him, I learned to like him through his book, his characters, his humor, his storytelling, his style – but I learned to value him from an editorial perspective when I sent his first round of edits back. Rather than whine about the amount of work asked of him or argue that his book was perfect as-is, he threw himself wholeheartedly into editing with all the enthusiasm and professionalism anyone could hope for.

Not only that, but he took my questions about plot points and went one step further: he refined the entire story to the point where it was practically a new book. Rather than viewing criticism as a negative point, he instead used it as a jumping-off point to come up with some wildly creative solutions that more than proved his talent and ingenuity. Sometimes I almost couldn’t keep up with him as he spun through ideas, changes, and cheesy one-liners that left me spraying diet coke at my screen on an alarmingly regular basis. His wife, too, has a wonderfully sharp eye; she was always there, looking over Jason’s shoulder and catching that one letter out of place that neither of us noticed after staring at the manuscript for the eleventy-millionth time.

Oh, there were a few points of contention. A few things had to be deleted for the sake of house rules, and darlings (and sheep) had to die. There was a particularly knotty wrangle about italics that left us both so confused we didn’t know if we were coming or going, but we never wanted to see another verbalized sound effect in our lives. Renee, She Who Commands All, nearly killed me over a slight oversight on the cover text. (Seriously, never make a pregnant woman angry. I swear I found three more grey hairs the next day.) Jason had to be threatened with a ruler across the knuckles if he didn’t stop picking at things that were already tweaked to the point of exhaustion. He’s a bit of a perfectionist, in case you can’t tell. He’s also paranoid, neurotic, and utterly hilarious when he starts biting his nails over every tiny little thing. One of these days he’s going to stress himself to a heart attack. I’m probably callous enough to point and laugh. I’m an editor. It’s what we do. All part of crushing your spirit and destroying your artistic vision.

Ahem. Back on topic. More than anything, Jason is a witty, fun, engaging person, and a wonderful author to work with. Just by being himself and dedicating himself to polishing his book, he made my investment in Rogue’s Curse personal. He proved that when an author and editor work together rather than against each other, a good book can transform into a great one. We may not be friends, but I’m damned happy to be his editor.

Maybe if Jason hadn’t been my first author, I wouldn’t love working for a publisher so much. Maybe if Jason hadn’t been such a delight to work with, I would have doused myself in holy water and run screaming back to the freelance life and my private client roster. But “maybe” never happened, and I consider myself lucky that out of all the contracted books pending editorial assignment, my senior editor decided to send Jason (and my other starting authors, because yes, I love you all) to me.

So thank you, Jason. Thank you for being my first Lyrical author, for being wonderful, and for trusting me with your next book, Nether.

Thank you, and happy release day for Rogue’s Curse.

…

Now excuse me. I need to go drown something small and fluffy before people start thinking I’m human.

1. He points out your errors. It’s impossible to be perfect with some asshole constantly griping at you about comma abuse, homonym misuse, and proper apostrophe placement. You never do anything wrong. The dude needs to just back off.

2. He explains things to you about grammar, proper usage, plotting, characterization, etc. What does he think you are, five? Of course you know these things. You know everything. He just doesn’t get that you’re exercising your stylistic freedoms. And why is he giving you lessons in history, physics, Cantonese slang, Kelvin-Helmholtz instability, and the limits to which the human body can strain in that particular position of the Kama Sutra? You’re creative. You don’t have to be factually accurate.

3. He suggests improvements to your story and style. If you’d wanted to write it the way he suggested, you’d have done it that way in the first place. Even if you’d never thought of it before. Jesus. What an ass. He’s probably a failed writer with nothing better to do than try to undermine your talent. If he’s so smart, he can go write a book. You don’t need to improve anything. Ever.

4. He makes you do all the work of implementing his recommended changes. Cripes. You wrote the book once already. Why should you have to retain ownership of your characters and storyline to write it again? All that BS he spouts about trusting you and your talent, and about not taking over your story…pfft. He’s just blowing smoke up your ass because he’s too lazy to do it himself. He should just whip everything together and take care of it; it’s not your problem anymore. Editors are really just glorified proofreaders anyway. Everyone knows that.

5. He actually thinks your writing should mature with each iteration of edits and each new story. Why should you have to change what’s already perfect? So what if you just had to rewrite ten pages of action because he decided the existing scene created a plot hole the size of a mutant manatee? You’ll just dash it off and send it in as-is, flaws intact. Nevermind the fact that he’s spent the entire manuscript griping like your mother-in-law about semicolons can’t be used that way or make sure the modifying clauses agree with the main subject, verb, and object. Whine, whine, whine. If your writing style changed from edit to edit and book to book, he wouldn’t have anything to do. You’re just being considerate and keeping him from getting bored. After all, he wouldn’t have a job without you.

6. He’d rather go without sleep than miss another chance to go through your manuscript. I mean, obviously he’s just trying to create problems and he’s got a grudge against you. Does it really matter if every instance of the word Green in the Manuscript is CapitaLiZed? Get a life, man. Maybe if he slept more than three hours a day he wouldn’t be so nitpicky.

7. When you halfass your edits, he makes you do them again. Clearly he doesn’t understand that you skipped 75% of his editorial commentary because it was all asinine and destructive, demonstrating that he doesn’t get what you’re doing. Also, see previous comment re: getting a life. Doesn’t he think you have anything better to do?

8. He makes you kill your darlings. You spent months crafting that perfectly placed piece of purple prose, with its precisely poetic palliteration. You love that particular figure of speech and damn it, even if it’s not appropriate, you’ll make it appropriate. Your favorite 20-page scene detailing the movie the lovers watched in chapter 40 just touches your heart and reminds you of when you first watched it at a slumber party 72 years ago. You adore the way you always write “ocular orb-thinguses” instead of “eyes;” it’s your signature. You love your art. You are your art. And he’s trying to destroy you by making you cut out the things you love most. Nevermind that the narrative makes more sense without them. He’s ruining the beauty of the thing.

9. He challenges you. He pushes you beyond your comfort zones and asks you to write things you’ve never written before, try things you’ve never thought of, learn new ways to do an old art. What is he trying to do, give you nightmares? New experiences are traumatizing. If you take risks, you might fail. Wait. That’s it, isn’t it? He wants you to fail.

10. He gives you deadlines. You have other priorities. Your hair appointment is this afternoon, your dog needs a mani-pedi, you’re working on a brilliant new story that will blow the NYT list out of the water. Look, those deadlines can wait. It’s not that hard to put a book together. You can just turn it in the day before the release date and it’ll be fine. It’s not like there are any other books in the pipeline, anyway. Yours is the only one that matters. If your editor really cared, he’d prioritize you above everyone else.

11. He makes you self-promote. And he’s out there promoting you, too. I mean, really. There are marketing and PR people for that. You shouldn’t have to self-promote; you are the author, the diva, the prima donna who watches from an ivory tower as the fans come flocking. You shouldn’t have to do anything to draw them. And heaven forbid anyone expect you to speak with them or engage them in any way. They aren’t authors like you.

If your editor meets even half these criteria, it’s obvious that he or she hates you and wants your book to fail. Or at the very least, they’re trying to make you as insane as they are. You should take up drinking. Make sure you drink while you write and while you edit; it’s a bonding experience, and you’ll be keeping your editor company. It won’t affect the quality of your work at all.

Besides, even if it does, your editor will fix it. That’s what he’s there for, after all.

I just know someone out there will take this seriously. And then I’m going to cry. You wouldn’t want to make a poor, defenseless, exhausted editor cry, would you?

Well, hi.

No, seriously. It’s as simple as that. Just say hi.

Yes, you’ll need to tell me about your book. A little about yourself, too, though don’t overwhelm me. But really, just to start off with, say hi. Smile. Be polite, be friendly, and give me your message. It’s just like making friends.

And just like making friends, it requires a little tact.

Tact means not complaining about how you don’t like the submission format. Tact means not trash-talking other writers. Tact means not whining about how stupid you think the publisher or agent’s requirements are. Tact means not deriding the other agents and editors who rejected you. Tact means not proclaiming yourself the One True Savior who understands the truth of the publishing industry and will show us all the light of your genius.

Tact also means keeping your crazy quite firmly under your belt where I can’t see it.

You wouldn’t let it all hang out like that when making a new friend. Don’t let it hang out with me. There’s time enough to show me how quirky-awesome you are, when I know you well enough to appreciate it. On that first meeting, what I need to know is that you’re sane, you write well, your story engages me, and you’re capable of understanding the business aspect of this entire crazy machine.

So just say hi, and hope we hit it off well enough for your book and my editing schedule to be friends.

We won’t be friends. We can’t be. I can’t be your friend and do my job. I can’t worry about hurting your feelings when I’m chopping apart incorrect modifiers or urging you to drop the passive voice and use more active verbs. I can’t be your friend when trying to train you out of your little bad writing habits, even if I’m doing it in your best interests so your talent can shine through and showcase the good writing habits that made me love your story in the first place. I won’t be your friend, because friends can’t be honest with friends about their writing.

But we’ll be friendly. We’ll learn to love each other and hate each other–but more than that, we’ll learn to depend on each other through revisions and deadlines, galleys and proofs, cover art quibbles and panicked last-minute changes. We’ll learn each others’ senses of humor and share inside jokes swapped via tweets and MS Word comment boxes. We’ll tease each other about quirks, find out strange little things about each other, and know each other in ways that often, friends don’t. Writing reveals a lot about a person. So does editing. So do those moments at three o’clock in the morning, when we’re both ready to tear our hair out trying to fix that one last sentence before the book’s due in to production the next day.

And when your book releases I’ll share a drink with you in celebration, although I’ll never come to your kids’ birthday parties or help you shop for Christmas. I don’t care about photos of your dog in sunglasses or slideshows of your vacation to Redondo Beach, and please don’t tell me about your hot date last night or the guy you found your wife in bed with. I don’t want to know. I’d rather not picture you that way, and it’s really not my business.

So no, we won’t be friends. But we will be establishing a unique relationship that, if all goes well, could last for many years and through many books. You wouldn’t start a friendship by approaching a stranger and criticizing their choice of those shoes with those slacks. You wouldn’t walk up to someone in a bar and, without even saying hello, begin a spiel of negativity about every person who ever hurt you in the past.

So why would you start a relationship with an editor or agent by antagonizing them?

For immediate release by the Office of Clovort Reduccion:

A clovort’s mouth is a dirty thing. It is best to keep all digits and appendages clear of its gray lips. On the rare occasion you discover an intelligent clovort, do not engage it in conversation. They are manipulative, and you might find yourself asking the clovort to taste you. In reply, the clovort will nod sheepishly and respond with, “All right. If you insist.”

If you spot a clovort while walking through the woods, do not stretch out your arms and make hooting noises to scare it away. This will not work. Do not tap the clovort on the nose. Do not urinate, fall to the ground and curl into a ball, stare it straight in the eye or turn around and run. All of these things will only make you more appetizing. The best course of action is to roll yourself in milk and pray the clovort is lactose intolerant.

If possible, and if not at risk to your physical intactness, tag the clovort with a personalized beacon dart. Then, when you visit the Office of Clovort Reduccion to file a complaint of clovort harassment, we will know whom to give credit to once we have captured the beast.

Any citizen caught using a clovort for manual labor will be punished severely. Given the relative girth of the clovort—usually six hundred pounds and eight feet tall—this prospect may tempt farmers. These beasts are exceptional at pulling ox carts and plowing the fields. However, farming jobs should be awarded to law-abiding citizens and not abominations of God.

Your elected officials are working tirelessly to rid Western Beatrice of this infestation. Despite our best intentions, we are constantly affronted by attacks from Clovort Right’s groups. Rest assured, King Perlezod and the Office of Clovort Reduccion will prevail. We count on your efforts to eradicate this abomination and create a clovort-free society for you, your children and your children’s children.

The Office thanks you for your cooperation.

————————————————–

If you enjoyed that little bit of hilarity from author Jason Beymer, there’s more clovort-stomping fun coming when his debut novel, Rogue’s Curse, releases from Lyrical Press this August.

If you didn’t enjoy it, well…hush. He saved me from having to actually revive this blog myself. Go be nice to him anyway. He’s an introvert, and he needs to be dragged out of his shell. Kicking and screaming, if need be.

Besides…I owe him. Hard. Bugger stuck my name in the acknowledgments. Go. Mob him.

And I’ll have you know, I didn’t edit this post one single bit.

———————————————————————————

Killing Peter Rabbit
Jason Beymer

Adrien invited me to guest blog today. It’s not easy guest-blogging for your editor. I expect to see puddles of red highlighter all over this post, bearing familiar comments like “Watch your adverbs,” “An octogenarian is not a type of monkey,” and “You think this line is funny? What, are you seven?”

It would be disingenuous to say Rogue’s Curse is my first book. When I was five years old, I plagiarized The Tale of Peter Rabbit a thousand times, peppering it with unspeakable kindergarten horrors and bunny-on-bunny violence. I didn’t know my alphabet yet, and my penmanship consisted of squiggly lines. At first I copied Beatrix Potter’s story word for word. Eventually I improved it. I was a pioneer, like Gus Van Sant when he allegedly shouted, “Balls! I’ll remake Psycho shot for shot, but this time in color and with full-frontal boobies!”

In the original work, a naughty bunny runs away from home to go a’noshin’ in a carrot garden. He barely escapes Old Man McGregor, who chases him with a hoe. No, I was still too young to comprehend that word’s comedic potential. “Hoe” wouldn’t enter my vocabulary as a double-entendre for another six years, when I snuck into the living room and watched Eddie Murphy’s Delirious on HBO. Moral of the story? Don’t piss in Old Man McGregor’s garden. Or, as Momma Rabbit put it, “Your Father had an accident there; he was put in a pie by Mrs. McGregor.” Yikes! If that doesn’t stain your underroos at age five, nothing will.

The more I rewrote this story, the more it transformed. I became curious. How much of Peter Rabbit’s body could I dismember without killing him? It sounded innocent coming from my five year old mouth: “Mommy, if I wooze my arms and wegs will I still wiv?” The question was cute; the motive was not. Look, I didn’t have the Internet back in the ’70s. I didn’t have TLC and the Discovery Channel to conduct research with. If I wanted to turn on TV and gawk at a man with no legs and half a skull I had to wait for Donahue to hit the summer slumps.

So began Peter’s dismemberment stage: leg ripped off while escaping, ear severed by flying glass, paw lopped off in a sewing machine accident, etc. Soon Peter Rabbit wasn’t sneaking around Old Man McGregor’s garden searching for carrots anymore. Why not? How would I know? I’m five, remember? A new question came to me: How does one ‘accidentally’ put an old man into a pie? I researched it. All authors are expected to research their novels, right? I didn’t want to tarnish my credibility before my first pubes broke the skin, so I went to work. I watched the Looney Tunes classic “French Rarebit” and studied how the French chefs prepared Bugs Bunny for “Louisiana Back-Bay Bayou Bunny Bordelaise … a la Antoine.” Now the tables were turned: Peter Rabbit tossed Old Man McGregor into a cooking pot and baked him into a blueberry pie. This concept worked for several iterations and then I got bored.

And when I got bored, characters randomly died. This concept hasn’t changed much in thirty years. Random death is the spice of life. Peter stepped on a landmine, the carrots turned evil and attacked the Rabbit family, and the McGregors succumbed to an awful case of burning farmhouse.

Editing done, I prepared to show my creation to the world. This got me booted out of Cub Scouts. The pack leader claimed I was channeling Satan (psst, she was right!). So what is the moral of this guest-blog post? Squelch your child’s creativity at an early age, lest the Church strap him to a ducking stool.

Jason’s debut novel Rogue’s Curse is scheduled for release in August 2010 from Lyrical Press.

Visit Jason Beymer’s blog at http://www.beerandtv.com/.
Follow Jason’s Twitter at http://twitter.com/beerandtv/.

Good lord, I’m a wordy bugger.

Also: not too long ago one of my authors, Jason Beymer (author of the upcoming humorous fantasy ROGUE’S CURSE), did a great post on character development and how he finds inspiration for his characters. You should go check it out. (And be nice to him. He’s funny.)

Watch this space for some other guest blogs soon, as I cajole my authors and my fellow Lyrical editors into speaking up. (Cynthia, I’m lookin’ at you.)

I keep meaning to update with photos of my nifty new Sony Reader Touch Edition and faff on about how awesome it is, but every time I talk about the thing I sound like a product shill. Bleargh. Well, here, a couple of blurry photos snapped off on my G1 phone, with the thing on my messy, disorganized coffee table:

Man, do we need to vacuum.

That’s the Pixie skin from DecalGirl.com*, crap about my student loans underneath the reader, and Elizabeth Darvill’s BOUND BY BLOOD on the reader’s screen. Liz and Jason have been great sports about not killing me yet despite the volumes of edit notes I’ve dropped on them. Ashley has yet to find out what she’s in for, but she will. [insert innocent smile here]

What else, what else…OH! One other thing: The latest book in Diane Duane’s YOUNG WIZARDS series, A WIZARD OF MARS, released this week. It wasn’t due out until early April, so imagine my surprise when my preorder showed up on my doorstep on the 23rd.

If you love Diane Duane as much as I do, get the damn book. Seriously. YOUNG WIZARDS has always held a firm position as my favorite YA series of all time, and A WIZARD OF MARS is a great addition to the collection.

……

…oi, that’s a lot of tags on this post.

 

 
*Random aside: DecalGirl has the best customer service. My original order was shipped incorrectly; they sent me a skin for the Pocket reader, rather than the Touch edition. I e-mailed asking how to do an exchange, and they apologized and shipped a priority mail replacement the same day. It’s sad that it’s rare to see good, polite customer service, but it’s always nice when you run across it.