Review: The Accidental Vampire, by Lynsay Sands

Lynsay Sands's Argeneau novels are popular among vampire lovers. I felt more than a little cheated. Though, this book was purchased for me, and probably not one I would have picked out for myself. It falls into the 'paranormal-romantic-comedy' slot, and I'm the first one to admit I have a hard time with these.




From the back cover:

Fate gave her fangs . . .

Ever since an accident turned her into a knockout
vamp, Elvi Black's been catching her z's in a coffin, staying out of the sun,
and giving up garlic. She knows there's more to being undead than what she
saw in Dracula, but she can't very well ask her mortal friends about proper
biting etiquette. But when her neighbors placed a personal ad for her in
the local paper, she never imagined she'd meet Victor Argeneau, a vampire who
could have his pick of any woman - dead or alive.

He'll show her how to use them . . .

Rich, powerful, and drop-dead gorgeous, Victor's the perfect man for
a novice neck-biter like Elvi. He's willing to teach her everything he
knows, but he'll have to do it fast. Someone's out to put a stake through
her new vamp life, and only Victor can keep her safe - and satisfied - for all
eternity.

*cough*

Did we miss any cliches there? Nope, I didn't think so. To her credit, Ms. Sands can make even a cliche seem fresh. There were plenty of laugh-out-loud one liners, and the whole premise, though ridiculous, was pulled off in a funny way. Elvi ends up basically hosting a whole group of potentials at her house together, a la The Bachelorette. In fact, I saw many missed opportunities for some ironic situations, but that's okay.

The risk/conflict equates to some anonymous person shooting arrows. And I found the whole idea of how a mate is discovered/known (whether or not you can read their mind) contrived. All of the bachelors put it off until the most convenient moment, which just makes no sense to me. And in the end, the whole thing was just too cutesy for me - up to and including the other members of Elvi's community that decide to turn vamp, and the author wrapping several happy endings into one. Although I was tempted, I didn't quit. The writing was sound enough to hold me, but it wasn't my cup of tea. Two bleeding hearts.

Oh, and I forgot to mention . . .

My first novel, Cloak of Deceit, took 3rd Place in the FTHRW Golden Gateway contest. You can see the full list of winners here.

I was amazed to final in my very first RWA contest entry, and I'll take third, with pleasure! =P

Planet Procrastination

I'm over at the Writer's Retreat blog today, discussing how to quit making excuses not to write.

*hums*

I give myself very good advice, though I very seldom follow it . . .

Am I really THAT Predictable?

So . . .
I'm not completely back in the writing saddle yet, but I'm brushing the horse down and tightening the straps. I've been slowly trying to turn my spare mind-power towards my WIP. And just writing in general. I'm more on the general, universal stuff at the moment. I've gone back and read a lot of my old stuff - just for fun. And in doing so, in a detatched way, I've discovered some sorta funny patterns. I've noticed them before with other writers, but never about myself really. It's funny how the subconscious works, yet not surprising.
Here are a few things that pop up repeatedly in my stories and bear some thematic significance or are otherwise just a common prop:

A rusty old pickup. - I think I've mentioned that my dad has always had one. I guess they must symbolize something to me. *scratches head*

A necklace. - This is a little too easy - a charmed necklace, or a piece of gifted jewelry used as a prop to bring memories to the surface, blah, blah. I'm going to have to expand my reperatoire here.

Car chases and/or accidents. - I think this is because I am afraid of car crashes and hence, really high speeds.

Claustraphobic instances. - I guess to me, being too cramped to move just amps up the panic factor. *shrugs*

Grey eyes. - Do they exist in nature? I can't tell ya. But I in my worlds, grey eyes is a fairly prominent genetic allele. Heh.

Kendo. - I'm sorry, I just think sword-wielding with style (no, I'm not talking about fencing) is hawt.

Rain. - I'm sure you can figure it out. (Hint: Gwen lives in Seattle)

Dreams. - I know it's cliche. *sigh* I have a hard time getting away from dreams though. What are the alternatives? How else do you set up people meeting before they actually meet, or rationalize someone turning down a road they normally wouldn't, or, or . . . *sigh* I know. I know. I know.

Auras. - Almost as bad as the dreams. But . . . I like the idea of using colors to interpret other character's moods. It's quick, and once the audience gets the drift, it's like . . . a shortcut. Right?

What do these things say about me? Is my imagination too limited? I'm too narrow-minded? Or maybe just overly analytical. Hmm... How about you - do you have any commonalities in your writing? Notice them in your reading? Think about it for a minute.

My other question is - is this a *bad* thing - or is it sorta cool? I mean, only people who had read everything I've written would notice. In a way - it would just be between me and them. I'm leaning towards cool . . .

Unwillingly Dammed

MISSING MY WIP

I'll try to make this post more ponderous and less whiny, but I can't make any guarantees to that effect. As you can probably tell, my blogging has been non-existent lately. That's fitting in right along with all other forms of writing. The honest-to-goodness truth, not an excuse but a reason, is simply this: I haven't had the time.

I'm the sort of person who over-extends herself on a regular basis. Being short on time is something I'm used to. Being under a deadline? No problem. Having lots of work piled up on me? Yeah, that's old hat. Running a website, two and a half blogs and a forum in addition to twittering and poking my nose in various cyber-spaces? Well... yeah.

But somehow, my firm purchase on the actual work of writing (the art of applying but to chair and fingers to keyboard) has slid towards non-existent. I'm chewing through lots of books on the bus ride to and from my new job - but that is really just making my hunkering to write even worse. And here comes the whining...

A lot of writers complain that they sit down and the words won't come. Or that they find themselves shuffling writing to the bottom of their list and making excuses *not* to do it. At the moment, I envy those writers. If I had the time to talk myself out of writing . . . well, I'd be writing. Sadly, my case is something else entirely. The words are there. The ideas are flowing. They are just piling up behind the dam built by my brain in order to let me deal with the more pertinent issue of . . . well, survival. (At the moment.) I have so much work to do, I can't even allow myself to dawdle in my make believe worlds, or to ponder characters or stories, or anything. I'm effectively cut-off from my creative flow. And not by choice. It's like a forced block. And it's frustrating as hell.

It comes down to this: I miss my WIP. I *WANT* to dive into it, to finish the story of the people I've come to care deeply about in the past months. I *WANT* to add in my new ideas, and yes, yes - even to trudge through edits because I know the editing process inside-out now and know that the end-product will be more than worth it. But . . . woe is me . . . I can't do that. Yet.

Soon. Soon, I keep telling myself. I miss all of you guys too - if there is anyone out there still reading this. I'll say the same to you. Soon I will be filling your head with fluff, or maybe even something more substantial, telling your what I've read and what I thought, expanding my reperatoire of writing-issues, finally tackling the projects I've been talking 'bout for months, and generally poking my nose in your business again. Soon.

Signed,
Unwillingly Dammed Writer

Where am I?

Somewhere between the edge of sanity and the end of reason . . .

I'm a total slacker! Bad Gwen! Bad!

*sigh*

But really, my life is still just in a topsy-turvy uproar, and though I've been reading a lot, I haven't had time to write reviews, or commit anything substantial to my WIPs. My current design project is up next Wednesday, and once the dust settles, I'll re-evaluate.

Currently, I'm reading the MacCarrick Brothers trilogy by Kresley Cole. I'm liking it. Not sure if that is opening the door to historicals for me, or simply because I love her voice so much.

Not much happening on the writing front. I'm not at a standstill idea wise, but just haven't logged the keyboard time I need to get them out. I still have lots of feelers out there, which I'm waiting to hear back on. And I'm toying with the idea of entering the Golden Heart.

Thus far . . . I have resisted the Red Bull. I think I may have finally conquered that demon! Woot!

Review: Fallen, by Erin McCarthy

This book marks Ms. McCarthy's second foray into more serious, 'darker' paranormals, on the theme of the seven deadly sins (cool!). I didn't read the first one (lust), titled My Immortal, but this second title (gluttony/addiction) is a stand alone story.

From the back cover:

New Orleans, 1840s. Sent to watch over the decadent city, the angel Gabriel loses himself in the liquid pleasure of absinthe. So when his mistress, Anne, is murdered—and all evidence points to him— a foggy Gabriel cannot be sure he didn't do it. His penance: to be forever denied love. Should he seek pleasure with a woman, she'll know the depths of despair.

New Orleans, today. Hoping to unlock that unsolved mystery, forensic scientist Sara Michaels, Anne's great-great-granddaughter, meets the ageless, tormented Gabriel. To work together would mean suppressing their mutual attraction—he can't allow himself to touch Sara, for her own sake.

And for Sara, already familiar with the dangers of addiction, Gabriel poses the ultimate threat to her self-control. But can the desire burning between them turn into their salvation—or lead them both to destruction?

So - let's see here: We have a fallen angel, recovering addict piano player-slash-painter who hasn't had sex for eighty years. And a self-conscious young heroine fleeing the tragedies of her past while trying to unlock the mystery of a family curse and related murder. And yes, it was just as angsty as it sounds. I loved it.

Favorite quote:

"Eventually, we'll both lose interest."

"Oh, really?" She had to admit, that infuriated her. "You have it all figured out, don't you?"

"Absolutely." He nodded with confidence.

"They why the hell did you kiss me?" She wasn't sure whether she regretted it or not. It had been a fabulous kiss, and she had been curious what it would be like, but on the other hand, now she knew their chemistry was real, yet he was telling her they couldn't do a damn thing about it.

"Because I'm an idiot."

Which was the male answer to everything. They seemed to think if they just admitted their stupidity, somehow it exempted them from responsibility for it.

Other reviews for this story have consistently had two issues. First, they think it's slow and don't like the internal angsty monologues and expositions. Secondly, they find the ultimate conflict and resolution (i.e. antagonist) too wimpy. I strongly disagree with the first, and only sort of agree with the second. If you try to read this book as an urban fantasy, or anything other than a romance, it won't work. To me, the main antagonist in the story was Gabriel's all-consuming guilt. There is enough of a story and mystery surrounding the death of Sara's ancestor to keep the plot moving along, but this one is truly a character journey. Each of them are hunting for the truth, wanting each other, but unwilling to 'take the plunge'. I enjoyed the depth of both characters, and Ms. McCarthy did a successful job of interchanging viewpoints without confusing or annoying me - a real feat.

Stylistically, I enjoyed the interspersed newspaper clippings and court reportings, which added depth to the story. The tension was great, the angst better. If the climax was anti-climactic, I didn't notice. The ending was supremely satisfying (since the author held over the *actual* love scene until the second to last chapter!). If you want an emotionally engrossing angst-filled romance, this one's for you. Four bleeding hearts.

PS: Extra points for cover awesomeness.

Gosh, Golly, Gee . . .

Some of you may have noticed I've been MIA. Things were a little rough there for a while. It all started about a month and a half ago when I lost my wallet and I've been floundering since, just trying to keep my head above water. My laptop died, I quit my job, and my cat got diabetes. *sigh*

I'm happy to announce I think that bout of ill luck (hey, I'm all for the universe being in balance - if it means it has to screw with me sometimes, so be it) is officially OVER!

I'm writing this post from my brand spankin' new Macbook (yeah, baby, yeah!). I have a freelance graphic design job to float me for the next month and a half until I find something permanent (and the job prospects are looking up from a few weeks ago). This also means my graphic design business, which I started two years ago, is now officially in business (website to come). AND, to top it all off, I got some really great news on Friday:

Cloak of Deceit, my first completed novel, has finaled in the FTHWA Golden Gateway Contest. My first sub to an RWA contest, and I finaled! It feels like Christmas. I'm ecstatic with them apples. And really, really glad to be back on course.

So . . . I'm back in the saddle and in the mood to celebrate! You got any good news to share? Hit me up! If you don't, I'm gonna look like this . . .