Seduced by Darkness Review

I've posted a review for Seduced by Darkness by Delilah Devlin over on the WR Blog.

I gave it two and a half bleeding hearts out of five. Read the review to find out why.

Flash Friday the Second - Ferrety Flash

Over at the WR Forum, we do a picture-prompted 500 word flash activity on a bi-weekly basis and then critique. On the WR Blog, we will share some of these themed pieces, along with other selections every week for Flash Friday.

The picture that inspired this week's collection was chosen by Kat:

And here is my contribution . . .

Ferreted Away The clacking of Charlene's high heels echoed down the narrow cement hallway as she followed behind the burly institution guard. He ambled, frequently looking over his lump of a shoulder to ogle her. She gave him a saccharine smile every time put an extra flutter in her lashes, which almost had him tripping over his own feet. Distracted was good. When they'd reached the halfway point, he hunched over and fumbled with the jangling loop of keys on his belt, leering at her. Charlene pulled a small compact mirror out of her gaudy pink shoulder bag, and pretended to check her hair and make-up. The guard didn't notice the tiny red light on the camera at the end of the hall behind them going out. Perfect, she thought, and snapped the compact closed. "You'll have ten minutes darlin'," he said as he pushed the heavy metal door open for her. "Give 'im a good one." "Oh, don't worry," Charlene winked, and tapped her fingers on his chest three times, as if she were brushing away crumbs. "I will." 'Samuel', as his nametag said, gave Charlene a crooked, cross-eyed grin as his eyes glassed over with the haze of her dream spell. He was present, but already light-years away. Too easy. She slipped into the visitation room and the door closed behind her. Another intrusive camera watched from the corner and the scent of pine cleaner assaulted her as she locked eyes with Harold for the first time in months. With a flick of her wrist, that camera too, went out. The love of her life blinked up at her in bewilderment, sallow and scruffy, wrapped in a pristine white straightjacket. "Harold, it's me!" she said, her voice breaking. A look of shock, and then understanding dawned on his features. She stumbled forward and lunged into his lap, squeezing him tight and covering his face and neck with kisses. She ran her hands down his back and the buckles and straps restraining him slithered loose. "You shouldn't have come here!" Harold finally choked out before wrapping his arms around Charlene and smothering her with a heated mash of lips. "Did you really think I would leave you to rot in a drab dump like this?" Charlene scoffed, then stood up. "Well, no," he chuckled. "So, what's the plan?" "We walk out," Charlene answered, grinning. "Simple as that?" "Well, not precisely," she admitted, drawing a small purple vial from her bag. Before Harold could utter a word in protest, she threw it onto the white tile floor at his feet. It burst, emitting a green vapid cloud that swirled around the figure of Harold, sparkled, and then cleared. "I'm sorry, darling," Charlene sighed as she scooped up the small ferret that lay curled where Harold had been. "It really was the easiest solution," she added, dropping the squirming bundle into her bag. “You can change back in the car.” --487 words

Revenge of the Meme Gods

Here it is in all its resplendent glory - the rest of the 78/26/13 Meme thingamabob. I promised fewer words, so take a rest. I think it speaks for itself . . . Please forgive the silliness. I blame the Red Bull.

Other people who are doing/have done this: Liz, Catherine, Morgan le Fey, Eden, Kat.

1) Three of your favorite movies: Yes, I'm a nerd. And proud of it. 2) Three kids names: Hey, it could happen. People name their kids weird things sometimes. 3) Three celeb crushes: 4) Three things you want to do before you die: A girl can dream, can't she? I didn't say they had to be all at once . . . 5) Three of your favorite musicians: Extra points if you know who the guy in the middle is. 6) Three physical things about the opposite sex that appeal to you: 7) Three of your favorite hobbies: Writing, Photoshop, Raising Hell 8) Three of your favorite people you've known in your life: OR What? They didn't specify *which* life . . . 9) Three things you really want to do badly right now: 10) Three careers you’re considering/you’ve considered: professional student, best-selling author, goddess of the underworld 11) Three ways that you are stereotypically a boy: 12) Three ways that you are stereotypically a girl: 13) Three people that I would like to see post this meme: Andi, Jen, Debbie. Oh, and:

Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!

The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!

Leave a comment, and I'll link back to you here:
A. Catherine Noon
Kathleen Oxley
Word Trix
Kaige (Impulsive Hearts)
Alice Audrey
Susan Helene Gottfried
Chloe Devlin
Paige Tyler
Eden's Eternal
Shelley Munro
Debbie Mumford
Monica
Adelle Lauden
~Liz~
Jennifer Shirk
Crystal Jordan

Introducing Wiley Wednesdays

The Writer's Retreat Group has a new blog where we feature flash fiction, and varied posts by our members on a rotating schedule. It's updated regularly, so check it out sometime:

Writer's Retreat Blog

I'm over there today with a 'Wiley Wednesday' post - a weekly commentary on writing craft. My post is about VOICE - or what I've gathered about it so far.

Catching up . . .

The date is closing in on a deadline I set for myself to get a query submission out. It's for my current WIP, which is also my sweat project - Cloak of Deception. The drafting is coming along nicely, or was rather, before I got heavy into edits and re-writes for the first three chapters. And then there was the dreaded synopsis . . . dun dun dun!

So, as far as sweating goes - I'm lucky that edits count, because I've written about 200 new words in the last week.

The good news is, those first three chapters and the synopsis have polished up better than I could have hoped for, and it's all thanks to some very special folks: All the girls in the Writer's Retreat Group, who pamper me far more than I deserve; my fantabulous, irreplaceable, priceless, anonymous alpha-beta; and my mom. (How cool is that?) I'll be sending off the packet on March 30th, rain or shine.

And after I send it off? That's when the fun really begins. In order to keep myself busy while I wait, I have a mentorship lined up with the very talented Debbie Mumford, which I'm thrilled about, and a TBR list a mile long that I will *finally* get a chance to sink my teeth into. Not to mention the Sweat Challenge and the rest of my WIP list to keep me occupied.

But, basically - if you haven't heard from me, or don't hear from me until around April - please forgive! I'll be back. You knew you couldn't get rid of me that easily.

Flights of Fantasy

I am one of the very lucky thirty people who was able to score a mentorship with a real live author through the Romance Divas. It's one of the coolest things they offer through their forum and I am super-duper-excited!! My Diva Mentor is none other than fantasy/paranormal author Debbie Mumford (she also writes YA under the name Deb Logan).

Debbie works by day as a technical writer and has published 2 novels, an anthology and a novella with Freya's Bower, with another two novels on contract. Her dragon series, Sorcha's Heart, Sorcha's Children: Dragon's Choice have received several honors and rave reviews. Debbie has also published several short stories. I'm currently reading her paranormal romance novel, Second Sight, available from Freya's Bower - and I'm thoroughly enjoying it. I'll post a review when I'm finished.

In the meantime, I decided to interview my new mentor, and here's what she had to say.

Interview with Debbie Mumford

How long have you been writing, and what is the one thing that keeps you coming back to it?

I started writing with the intention of being published in late-June, 2003. I had no clue what I was doing, but I had an idea and spent the next seven months writing a 100,000 word contemporary fantasy novel. When I start something, I finish it. *lol*

What keeps me coming back? New ideas. New characters with stories to tell, and the knowledge that if I don’t tell them, no one will, because I’m the only one who knows these particular stories.

What are three books you could read over and over, and what is it about them?

I listen to books on tape as I drive to and from the office. I add to my collection when I can, but I have a few that I listen to over and over again. I have the entire Harry Potter series and I’ve listened to it, from beginning to end, quite a few times. I love it for the story, for the world Jo created, but I also enjoy listening to it as a writer. I know the story intimately now, so I’m able to hear things that she’s doing in the plotting and pacing of the book. I remember the “ah-ha” moment when I realized that the whole reason an intricately woven scene had been included in the book was to deliver a single sentence; a single piece of necessary knowledge. Wow! It’s almost like having Jo mentor me *lol*

Plotter, pantster, or in between?

In between, but leaning heavily toward the pantster. I have a rough idea of where my story is going before I start, but discovering the details is a major part of the fun for me! I typically write my first draft very quickly, not allowing myself to go back and fix errors or pick the perfect word. Once the story is out of my head, I turn my editor loose and rearrange scenes, make decisions about plotting and pacing and generally polish the manuscript on a macro level. I avoid getting caught up in line edits until I’m sure the plot flows the was I want it to…no sense wasting time perfecting a scene I’m going to cut!

In your eyes, what's your biggest strength in your writing? Your biggest weakness?

I’m good with characters and emotions, but I have a hard time remembering to place them in a physical surrounding. Setting is NOT my strength. I have to remember to go back through and describe where they are so that my readers can properly experience the scenes.

What's your weirdest writing habit?

Hmmm…I have so many weirdnesses…Probably my most unusual writing habit is my lack of a desk. I have a laptop and a lapboard and that’s my desk. I sit in my recliner, with my feet up and type away. Which is very transportable. When we’re away from home, I can recreate my space very easily.

Drink of choice?

Green tea or chai.

When did you decide that you wanted to make writing a career?

When I wrote that first novel. I sent that puppy out to countless agents and publishers and received an equal number of form-letter rejections. Now I know why, but at the time, I was clueless.

Now, for many people, such universal rejection would’ve buried their desire to write. Not me. I’m a bulldog personality. Tell me I can’t do something and my automatic reaction is, “Watch me!” Does the word “defiant” ring any bells? *snort*

Any choice tidbits of advice to share with people just starting the journey?

Learn to celebrate rejection. You’re going to get a lot of it and if you don’t make your peace with it, it’ll eat you alive. I don’t like being rejected any better than anyone else does, but I accept it as part of the business. They are not rejecting *me*, they are rejecting a specific example of my writing. That’s all.

As to the celebration part…well, rejections are proof positive that you’re doing your part in this business. You can’t garner rejections on a story you haven’t written (unless you’re trying to sell on proposal and that’s another matter); you can’t be rejected if you never submit. If you’re writing and submitting, you’re doing the work of a professional writer. Celebrate your commitment!

Are there any other genres/sub-genres out there you hope to explore, or any boundaries you plan to push?

Science fiction. I’m working my way from fantasy and speculative fiction to science fiction.

If you had to choose only one word to describe your writing, what would it be?

Wonder. Yes. That works on several levels, but you’ll have to discover them for yourself!

Thank you Debbie, for answering my questions, and for volunteering your time and wealth of knowledge to helping me navigate this new world. I'm really looking forward to working with you!

~Gwen

Spring FFC Entry

For the Flash Fiction Carnival this round, I decided to go with something a little different. This is a vignette of a supporting character in one of my novels. It was written specifically for this assignment, but I'm not sure how it will hold up as a stand-alone piece. I'm okay with that, because I'm glad I wrote it, and if it hadn't have been for this prompt, I probably wouldn't have.

So, here is a short piece with Astrid from Witch Hunt: Inner Eye, for the Spring Equinox.

Ostara, by LustAndDevotion

Illuminated Astrid wasn’t an Oracle. She’d only studied the basics of divination. And even that was sketchy. Still, she thought, zigzagging her way down the jagged hillside to the beach, it was Ostara – the Spring Equinox. For the briefest of moments, her little part of the earth would be cast in equal parts light and shadow. For the briefest of moments, the energies of the conduit around her would be in perfect balance. If she was lucky, and prepared, she could get a tiny glimpse of the future. She had the perfect question to ask the universe. She was certain in that fact as she unpacked her bag on the fine gravel. The waves crashed against the sides of the rock cove around her, enclosing her in a bubble of gurgles and whispers. Astrid lit the five candles encircling her and dropped to her knees, folding her robe underneath. The question was selfless. It wasn’t for her. That’s why she knew she would see the answer. She wanted to know so she could do what was right for Kean. She loved him, and she didn’t want to see him suffer anymore. Closing her eyes, Astrid invoked her personal circle, and the crashing of the waves beside her seemed more distant. The sky overhead was darkening, still a pinkish hue in the distance, but violet at the edges. She tapped into the conduit and could feel the shifting of the energies around her – each atom re-aligning, as all things do in the cycle of life – coming back to center. If Briana were ever going to come back to her center, to her home, Astrid needed to know. If there was hope for her two best friends to find love and happiness together, she would do everything in her power to see it happen. She loved Kean. She loved Briana. They loved each other. It was the perfect question – innocent, important, definite. One always had to be careful of the questions they asked. Astrid knew that all too well. She lowered her head to her chest, focusing on her breathing, on the grounding force of the shore beneath her, and the airy lightness up above. The light, the dark. Balance. She felt the exact instant it happened, as if time stopped. There was no heartbeat, no breath, and no body for a silken moment. She was suspended in between worlds – the now and the never, the substantial and the infinite. All she needed was the question, but in the place where only spirits dwell, there are no words. Still, Briana was more than a word to her, and so was Kean. They were feelings, and memories. They were hopes, and dreams, parts of her soul. Parts of her soul that had been ripped apart, she realized, when Briana left them. Them. Briana hadn’t just left Kean. She’d abandoned them both, and left Astrid to nurse Kean’s wounded heart through the aftermath. She was still caring for him, and Briana was off touring the world. Astrid’s question wasn’t selfless at all. She wanted Bri back. She wanted Kean happy. She wanted the three of them together again. She wanted . . . things to be like they were before. She exhaled at last, feeling like she fell back into her own body from miles above the ground. Her shot at a moment of enlightenment had passed. A light spattering of rain peppered Astrid’s upturned face and she blinked her eyes open. “What? No lightning? No roaring wind?” she asked the sky. One of her candles blew out and Astrid sighed. “Serves me right,” she said under breath as she got up and shuffled about, re-packing her bag. She should have known that she wouldn’t be able to get a clear answer. She wasn’t an Oracle. She’d thought her question was good enough – but now, after the fact, it was silly. It was too close to her heart. She should have just asked Ce-ce to deign it for her. It started to rain in earnest as she ascended the last curve of the path up the hillside. The froth below her was churning louder with each gust that whistled over the rocks. Astrid gripped her hood over her as she went up the train trestle stairs into the yard. “Screw this,” she muttered as she paused in the back doorway to her house. She looked over her shoulder at the brewing storm, the whitecaps in the straight barely visible past the dusky haze. She shook her head and walked through the door. If she had learned anything from this experience, it was that she was ready for something to change. As she took off her soaking robe and knelt to build a fire in the woodstove, she reflected that her question was so obviously selfish. She wanted to see Kean whole and happy. She missed Briana. She wanted to be free to find her own happiness, without guilt. She couldn’t be Kean’s security blanket any more. She wanted a life too, free from the saga of Kean’s long lost love. She wanted a love of her own. Yep – selfish, selfish, selfish. She chafed her bare arms, then wrapped herself in the closest blanket and nestled into the sofa. In two blinks of an eye, a little ball of orange fluff and claws found its way into her lap. Astrid gazed into the crackling flames of her hearth, and stroked her ginger cat’s luxurious fur, wondering, musing, remembering. She laughed to herself when it struck her that she had a lot more than one question when it came to Bri. It had been long enough, hadn’t it? She was coming back? What was she really hiding from? “Well, hell!” Astrid huffed, and the kitten flounced out of her lap. She would just have to find out the old fashioned way, she decided, reaching for the phone. Maybe it had been an enlightening evening, after all. ---996 words

Dude . . .

Kaige from Impulsive Hearts honored me with an Excellent Blog Award today. I really appreciate the shout out, Kaige! *hugs* And I enjoy hers a lot as well, so check it out.

The Rules: By accepting this Excellent Blog Award, you agree to award it to 10 more people whose blogs you find Excellent Award worthy. You can give it to as many people as you want but please award at least 10. You deserve this! Feel free to recognize blogs that have already received this award.

I visit the following blogs at least once a week and some of them even more frequently. They are all writing related and all manage to have unique perspectives on the process. Some are just getting started and some have been at it a while. Some are working alone and others pool their experiences.

They’re all Excellent Reads. I would like to pass this wonderful award to the following 10 blogs (in no particular order):

West of Mars	Debbie Mumford
Shelley Munro	Word Trix
Unhinged	Eden's Eternal
Flogging the Quill	A. Catherine Noon
The Redneck Romance Writer	Paperback Writer

Give them all a peek! You won’t regret it.