Sex

I am working on two different series at the moment, both with strong female lead characters. Both stories are very bloody and have a lot to do with sex. At the same time these two characters are polar opposites and keeping the personalities straight in my head was challenging to say the lest. During the teaser writing, while penning out a very graphic sex scene I wondered of course how this would go over with those of you who have read my other series. Ancient Dreams and Southern Nightgown are pretty graphic, with blood and sex, but they don't really push a lot of envelopes--unless you are massively religious, then they will piss you off. The two I am writing now are extreme and I love it. I find it quite freeing to write like this, I find it comes very easy. Though of course there is the question we have all been asking ourselves for so long that loiters in the back of my mind. When the hell did sex become so taboo? When did the very mention of the act begin to bring on blushes and nervous jitters? And when did all the cool kinky shit become so damn dirty...? In ancient days sex was revered and in many cases considered the ultimate form of worship. Women were forms of beauty and the bringers of such magic. They were the carriers of life and revered by their men almost as much as the act itself. There is really nothing else to blame it on but the bloody knife of Christinaty, which cut most the beauty out of our world. Sex. Something we all want. Need. A part of life so intrinsent to our own personal happiness became filthy and painful. Undesierable. Women, once powerful in many tiers of numerous kingdom fell under the Jewish way of operating --I mean what else did Peter (fisherman illerate) Paul (ugly little man--true story) know?--and lost much of the power they once held. Paul--one of the biggest women haters wrote that women should not be aloud to participate in holly rights, making them instantly lesser than man. His admonition was: That they keep silent. Keep us silent became a battle men would fight and lose for the next two thousand years. Women are sexual beings just as much as men. I believe even more so because sex is intimacy and intimacy is in the mind, it is the substance of our fantasies and a good fantasy for any woman is her raison d'être.

AD # 3 Preview

We crested the east hill of the Wynter property and the towers of the manor enveloped in their misty folds. To our left was Wynter Haunt, our family’s graveyard which wasn’t really a graveyard at all, but rather a numinous space on the canvas of earth, a structural break in time where the laws of life and death ceased to apply. Tangible power flowed from the marble of the crypts and headstones that all sheltered empty caskets. Two gargoyles sat atop twined metal pillars, and behind them an arch of the same metal curled around the tree branches that hung low, the rest was shrouded in mists. On these grounds the trees were barren, and grass that grew here died almost as soon as it tasted air, only the roses remained in full bloom year round, and their velvety petals boasted the colors of blood, snow and darkness. I let go of Lily’s hand and walked forward until I stood under the arch. I almost never passed by this place without stopping, there were so many things in the dappled shadows and beyond that called to me. The wind was colder here; any light from the day was sucked up by the mists. I ran my hands over the statue that stood at the entrance of the arch. She was beautifully done in green marble, with ruby flecked hair that twined through the roses framing her; she knelt atop a fountain of gold and held a stone plaque in her hands. ‘Wynter women at rest.’ It read. I always found it ironic, they never rested. Lily walked up beside me and took my hand. Together we stepped under the arch and the mists closed in behind us.

Thank you everyone who came out and bought my books this weekend. SUCH a difference from last year and I felt so greatful that there was enough in the story, writing and art--which took us soooo long to put together--to make you come back for more :) ROTHIC.com is officially up and running! Go and get my new book Iron & Lace. You know you want to. J.Scott Campbell inks on the cover and Dawn McTeigue sketches inside. Hand numbered and only 100. As always I truly value your patronage!

Showing skin...

I put up a picture I took a while ago in a red dress and it had an interesting response where a lot of my other photos have not. Now don't get me wrong all the comments felt good, in fact I completely loved them, they did get me thinking. I wasn't a pretty girl growing up, or at least in my mind I wasn't. I was rather thin, straggly and massively clumsy. I loathed taking pictures...I have four beautiful sisters, and compared to them I fell rather short in the beauty department. I had my mind, my art and my writing and I felt those were solid enough to make up for what I lacked in looks. Needless to say I wanted to break into the industry without having to put myself under the camera that often. I realized how wrong that thought was. The Con floor is a place for fantasy, a vehicle of myth facilitating trips into other worlds with dashing nights and beautiful ladies, superheros and goddesses--so of course dropping my clothes (well almost all of them) and smiling for the camera was part of the job. Something strange happened. With all the cameras flashing I started to feel beautiful. The more beautiful a girl feels the more it shows on her face. No my features didn't change but I find myself not cringing at every photo. I accept my flaws, I believe in the end they give us each an unique beauty that is only ours. Maybe it's okay to show a little skin...we are after all in the arts :)

Dreaming

Oh how long I have had the idea for Southern Nightgown in my head--I am pretty dang excited to see it in print! I know you probably are too but every time I think about it my heart just starts pounding! Thank you so much to Dawn who just took a chance on a crazy girl and to her husband (page troll) who took a chance on two insane women. Life really does have a way of working it's self out. Things come to us when it is the time for it and not before. I could have done this another way. In fact lots of people told me I would fail and fail hard, but it is all about the dream and believing in what you-- as your own god or goddess can accomplish. I think the true definition of living your dream is: No contingency plan.

Writing

Writing a book is a very strange thing. First of course there is the body of the story--what event initially kindled the tale in your mind? When you picture the opening scene can you smell rain, ocean, hot sunlight? Then you realize it is rain you smell and you are seeing the white puff of your own breath through someone else's eyes. You feel cold, a trickle of rain running down the crevice behind your ear sending wet shivers in its wake. Your heart throbs with hopelessness and you feel only terror. Noises in the darkness, haunting pain in your heart--yet also a reason to live, someone to live for. A face in your mind, dark hair, flashing amber eyes...then there is the glowing sword in your hand coated with demon blood, piles of bodies at your feet. You smell them, sweat and rot. The plot forms. You are fully your character and suddenly you know what you are fighting for--know where you are going--the soul who needs rescue and the villain who earned your vengeance. It is different for everyone, yet no matter how it happens for a writer I find the process magical. For someone like me, the ability to be able to retreat into a world of fantasy at will is amazing and probably a necessary ingredient to functioning for the most part like a regular human being, not one of my characters. At the moment I am trying to decipher the laws of the land I currently creating--a justice system to a people who do not understand the definition of the word. It is challenging. Being in contact with so many incredible artists lately I have often found just wanting to draw it. Then I look at pieces like this and remember why I chose writing over art--firstly because I am better at it, but also because I love the passion of words, they way they can create a scene so vivid and alive. Alive because in the mind of the reader it is always seen differently.

Here is J. Scott and Nei's version...not in CMYK :)

In exactly two weeks Southern Nightgown is FINALLY going to be available for purchase. I am quite thrilled with how it came out. Better than I imagined. Here are the cover previews. Special thanks to J.Scott Campbell, Dawn McTeigue, Stefan Merour, Sabine Rich, and the incredible Nei who colored a cover for me when she had no time at all (I heart you) It was a pain to make and certainly took a piece of our souls...I hope you love it as much as we do. To be able to have the image like this you will have to by both books they are connecting covers. Nei's color version is available for individual purchase.

So the last two weeks have been madness. Thank you everyone who came out and bought the book, I loved meeting all of you. For real, despite the yang of the cons the ying of being able to hang with everyone and hear all the comments and thoughts on the series is fantastic! The reprint of AD book one has been shipped out to me so for all of you waiting for it...you soon shall receive :) I have officially finished the text for Southern Nightgown and I need to get it to poor Stefan so he can work his magic with the text layout and design. I am freaking excited about it to be honest and SN has lately featured in my dark dreams...

Book of my dreams...

The story of Southern Nightgown has been loitering in my head since I was a child. In fact it was the first query I ever wrote and the first that was accepted--by Random House no less. Unfortunately at the time I had a rather fierce nasal fascination and the book was never finished. I went chartering off to Africa to save my soul and writing my book fell by the wayside. Being able to see it drawn out now by Dawn is a dream come true. I am not a fan of Christianity, due to my sojourn in a cult I have had a chance to delve into the bible and study all of its discrepancies. Somethings are quite harmless, most of them having to do with the actual life of a kind man who was killed and deified, the rest of it however I believe is a creation of evil men with a desire to control the masses through fear of death. Humans have always feared death and wasn't it amazing that during some pretty dark ages a few fishermen found a way to convince the world that they knew exactly what came after. Not only convince but convert--body mind and soul. Only by following their laws would you find the heaven you were hopping for. It wasn't even that hard of a sell. Still unfortunately for the masses most actions lead to hell fire and a visit from Satan at his worst. The moment someone is willing to die for a belief it takes it from passive, peaceful faith (harmless) to dangerous propaganda. For centuries we have swum in the bloody results of this religion. We are still swimming. Southern Nightgown is a parable if you will of the other side. When explorers found Greenland and Iceland, they switched the names giving the kinder one to the land they did not desire. Iceland they wanted to keep for themselves--if this is done with countries it begs the question...does human nature just like history have a way of repeating its self? One may wonder what Peter, James and John were been hiding under the guise of a foreboding name. It was obviously powerful enough to entice the monarchs who for hundreds of years willingly and without question made themselves subjects to a faith which controlled them. Unflinchingly gave the final say even in matters of life and death to a group of men who said they spoke the direct word of god. The Greeks battled, the Romans conquered but the crusaders can scarcely go down in history as anything but bloody assassins controlled by thieves and murders. Somewhere lurking in the darkness of what this region has caused is a secret many have thought worth dying for. A secret which destroyed all but the idea of magic and reformed the world. Southern Nightgown is my idea of what that secret may be.

The old ways...

I am watching Downton Abbey (loving it) and I find myself thinking a lot about time and what the passing of it means for me. It's fascinating how people -- most thorough no fault of their own -- let a belief completely dictate their actions. Is there anyone who lives with out one? Is it even possible to live without a belief even if it is in nothing?

I have been told it is necessary to my life that I start a blog--so here it is. I really never though it would come to this as I myself am really not a blog reader (though in all honesty I probably will be now that I am doing this)but I did let myself be talked into it. If nothing else it will be cool to have a journal of my endeavors, exploits and fails :) Do be warned I wont keep my opinions to myself so please feel free to strongly debate any topic I might put forth. All views are welcome here. But I can be a bit of a Scorpion on some topics so watch the sting ;) This is a piece by Dawn and it made my day. Sabine did the colors and they are of course flawless as usual. I do love these girls, Dawn and Sabine that is. They are always hitting heads over color and Dawn has a tendency to lose it when the colors are too sharp but when all is said and done these girls work incredible together. In fact I think Sabine still colors Dawn's work best.