Archive for October, 2007



Wednesday, October 31st, 2007
Samhain Blessings

Samhain blessings or Happy Halloween to all of you. Things are busy today and I may have another announcement soon, waiting to find out for sure.

In the meantime, don’t eat so much candy you get sick and may the ancestors watch over you.

Wednesday, October 31st, 2007
Sweating Check In

This week has been paying the price in editing, test reading and plotting so I’m now a bit behind. The good news is that I should be able to catch up after another day or so of plotting and storyboarding.

Current Word Count: 11,653
Goal Word Count: 12,000
% of Goal: 97%

Sunday, October 28th, 2007
Sweating Check In

Had to take off this morning and forgot to check in!

Actual words written: 10,815
Goal words: 9,750
% of Goal: 111%

WoooT!

Friday, October 26th, 2007
Friday Flash Fiction

The long silver hair of the imposing man was caught back at the nape of his neck in a braided tail that reached clear to his knees. Not the hair of any warrior she’d ever seen, it would make too easy a handle for a foe. A black leather coat lay neatly across a nearby stump, a compliment to the black leather pants that molded to his thighs and revealed every flexing muscle as he plied his axe on the wood rounds nearby. Even his loose white shirt was somehow alluring, plastered to his muscled back and arms with sweat that made it nearly transparent. The bright light of Lurrina’s full face showed him as clearly as full sunlight might have.

She should not be here. Only desperation made her enter the mountains to seek out this man. For most of her life she’d heard rumors of Shadorn, one of the few Night Born that lived this close to the Sun Dwellers. He lived alone and did not interact with any others, not that they would seek interaction anyway. All Night Born were treated as if invisible and beneath notice.

But still she’d heard the whispers, the rumors. It was said he waited for someone or something and would never leave until his task was completed. In the meantime, he lived a simple life in the mountains in a small cabin protected from the power of Stralinga, the sun god, by the heavy woods. A few travelers told of his giving unsought but welcome assistance but that he never spoke to them nor took anything from them. He just disappeared back into the woods.

She had to choice but to seek him out now. This may be the last hope she had to make a new life for herself. Her old life was lost to her. She’d tried to ignore the signs when they’d started. The pallor she put down to illness. The changes to her hair and eyes she’d passed off as a passing illness.

All the denial in the world didn’t save her. She had become Night Born, claimed by the moon goddess, Lurrina. Ripped from home and family, outcast and now almost too weak to travel, she’d finally made her way here.

He may not help her, he had no obligation to. Shadorn may even kill her on sight as a misborn, as her own people had threatened to do. No. Not my people. Not anymore.

“Why are you lurking in my woods?” The melodic voice called out the question. He faced her now and she could see his face, the finely sculpted delicacy of his features belied by the firm set to his lips and his scowl.

She flinched but gathered her courage and stepped forward, wary of his reaction. Her traveling leathers were dusty and worn. An old pair of her brother’s that she’d taken when she left.

“Greetings. Are you Shadorn?” Her breath caught as she asked the question. She prayed he was indeed Shadorn but feared it also.

“I am Sha’dorn.”

He stepped toward her. When only a few steps separated them, he stopped and glanced up and down her body, lingering occasionally.

“My name is …. was… Mikera. Can you help me. Please?”

Sha’dorn caught her when her knees buckled and hefted her easily into his arms. Gently and carefully, he set her on the stump he’d just been chopping wood on. “Are you newly changed? Have you fed?”

She could only shake her head. Ever since her eyes and hair had changed, she’d been unable to keep any food down. Nothing but water. Everything else made her sick.

“When did you complete your change? Did your people not even feed you before throwing you out?” He snarled an almost feral sound. “What has the world come to?”

“I don’t understand.” She almost sobbed. “My skin got paler and paler and I couldn’t stand the sunlight. I’d burn when I’d been in the sun all my life. My eyes changed from brown to this pale, strange color. My hair was gold, everyone said it was like silken sunlight. Now it’s white and so long.”

Now openly weeping she looked up into his face. “And my ….”

He smiled a stunning, sensual smile that stopped her in mid-sentence. A smile that revealed the sharp white tips of fangs. Fangs that matched her own.

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Join the Friday Flash Fiction meme. More information is available on my website.

(today’s postid is 26Oct2007)

Thursday, October 25th, 2007
Del Fantasma: Texas Tea Gets 4.5 Hearts from TRS

I just got a copy of The Romance Studio’s review of Del Fantasma: Texas Tea.

4 1/2 hearts from Wanda Maynard!

She says (in part):

“Such a gratifying work of art, Maura Anderson formulated. Through her imagination and ability to create such striking images, she tied together into a beautiful bound package, a twist of doubt, along with a modest amount of romance, which turned out to be a pleasantly puzzling story. Just enough to leave this reader wanting more. This awesome page turner, with its fast moving plot and memorable characters, gripped me with tantalizing suspense. There were no sudden jerks or jolting parts to slow the action down. Matthew, and the manner in which he was brought up, had qualities of gentlemanly and lovable attributes. That showed me he appreciated his mother, in view of the way he showed respect for women. He didn’t try to control. That surprisingly touched my heart. Will Lara become too involved with Matthew and try to transform him to a wilder side? Or will the two drift away from each other once the truth is known? I had to find out, and so will you. I highly recommend this impressive read.”

You can read the entire review on TRS’s site.

Thursday, October 25th, 2007
TRS Gives Del Fantasma: Texas Tea 4.5 Hearts

Wanda at The Romance Studio gave Del Fantasma: Texas Tea 4 and 1/2 hearts and says: Such a gratifying work of art, Maura Anderson formulated. Through her imagination and ability to create such striking images, she tied together into a beautiful bound package, a twist of doubt, along with a modest amount of romance, which turned out to be a pleasantly puzzling story. Just enough to leave this reader wanting more. This awesome page turner, with its fast moving plot and memorable characters, gripped me with tantalizing suspense. There were no sudden jerks or jolting parts to slow the action down. Matthew, and the manner in which he was brought up, had qualities of gentlemanly and lovable attributes. That showed me he appreciated his mother, in view of the way he showed respect for women. He didn’t try to control. That surprisingly touched my heart. Will Lara become too involved with Matthew and try to transform him to a wilder side? Or will the two drift away from each other once the truth is known? I had to find out, and so will you. I highly recommend this impressive read.

You can read more on the TRS Site.

Wednesday, October 24th, 2007
Sweating Update

Wrote my newsletter with the exception of the free read book whose chapter two I’m finishing now.

Total Words: 9235
Goal Words: 6750
Percentage of Goal: 137%

After the newsletter story, I have two stories to plot and the Friday Flash to write for the week.

It looks like last week’s Friday Flash Fiction is turning into a whole story :)

Tuesday, October 23rd, 2007
The End - Gift of the Holly King

Done and now in for edits! It came out at almost 17,000 words and will appear in the Babes in Toyland II anthology from Aspen Mountain Press, available mid-November 2007.

Blurb:

Recovering from a near-fatal accident, wiccan priestess Kayleigh Brennan has taken a leave of absence from her job to focus on recovering her health and rediscovering herself. When she discovers an ancient holly tree in a clearing behind her rented bungalow, she catches the full attention of Ilex, the Holly King. As his reign ends for the year and an ice storm moves in, will they lose each other again to the cycles of the year and of life?

Excerpt (Unedited):What a beautiful day.

Already chilly, the lack of any cloud cover was a certain sign that it would get far colder overnight. The weather had been unpredictable and there were already dire warnings that this winter would be a record breaker.

She made her way down the wooden stairs from the deck to the ground, keeping a tight grip on the railing and testing each step carefully before putting her full weight on it. The mere thought of getting hurt again made her stomach churn. She wasn’t about to risk a tumble down the steps.

The carefully groomed gravel path started at the base of the wooden stairs and meandered in swoops and curves toward the woods, following the slight contours of the yard on its way to the woods. Its organic flow made it seem like it might have always been there, despite the fact it was clearly manmade.

The crunching sound of her footsteps drew her to the brink of a different state of awareness. Her stomach gradually relaxed and her hands unclenched. Her mind stilled as she focused on her feet and the path, each slow step taken with care. Each deliberate stride pulled her deeper into her light trance.

At the edge of the grass lawn, she seemed to cross from one world to another in the space of a few steps. The gravel path changed to a rougher trail of packed earth with a layer of leaves and needles. The trees grew thicker and larger, nearer to the small path. The scent of the cedars was both sharp and comforting, overlying the musty and rich smell of the thick layer of decaying vegetation that filled the floor of the woods. Screened by the woods, the light breeze was replaced by a quiet stillness, not even broken by the sound of birds or squirrels she’d heard in the yard.

The path was well-defined and Kayleigh continued along it, sinking a little deeper into her trance. She loved the feel of nature and the trees around her. Alone in the woods, she could have been the only person in the world, at home with the Goddess and the sense of impending Yule.

Tugging off her gloves, she reached out to caress the wide, craggy trunk of a pine tree that had to be a hundred years old. She wouldn’t even be able to get her arms around half the trunk. Fingers quickly growing cold, she stuffed them and her gloves into her coat pockets.

Her steps took her further down the path, touching bushes and dodging the few spider webs that impinged on the trail. It seemed like she walked forever — away from the loud modern world and into a timeless, primeval realm of some sort.

Her breath caught, a sense of excitement suddenly flooding through her newfound peace. A shiver traced down her spine and goose bumps rose on her arms. A presence, an ancient, inhuman sense of wisdom and power, flooded over her mental shields. It seemed somehow masculine, deeper and rougher than the feminine Goddess energy she usually felt. And it was very close.

What is out here?

A blind turn in the path, around a large maple, brought her to the edge of a clearing. The crowded woods abruptly gave way to a grassy open space with a huge holly tree in the center, flanked by several smaller holly trees.

“Goddess, where have you brought me?” Her own whispered words seemed to flow out into the still otherworld of the clearing on the fog of her breath, twisting and turning as she stood in awe of what she saw and felt.

Every Instinct and training told her this was no ordinary landscape feature. This was a sacred place of some sort and it belonged to the presence she felt. The huge, ancient holly tree in the center seemed to be the focus.

The longer she looked at the tree, the more she felt a need to touch it, to be near it. The smooth bark almost glowed in shades of tans, browns, yellows and golds. The spiky leaves were a glossy dark green and created a lush canopy that overshadowed the two smaller holly trees.

The grass was already yellowed from the cold fall weather and wet but didn’t appear to have been mown at all recently. It seemed deeply wrong to just walk into the clearing. That space belonged to the presence and no matter how much she wanted to get near the huge holly, she needed to remember she was only a visitor — an uninvited one at that. A wave of tingling electric sensations ran over her skin and just under it, an eerie sensation made it clear that whatever lived here had noticed her.

(c) 2007 by Maura Anderson

Sunday, October 21st, 2007
Sweating Update - 10/21/2007

I was upset with myself for being behind until I remembered the 750 words for yesterday’s Flash Fiction Friday.

So, including that, I’m now at 5354 words written and 119% of goal.

YAY

Saturday, October 20th, 2007
Friday Flash

So, in a moment of sheer perverted masochism …. I mean brilliance, really… I’ve decided to try something and turn my Friday blog posts into a Flash Fiction bit each week.

Flash Fiction, for those who haven’t heard the term, is a extremely short story. For my own purposes, I’ll call the limit at 750 words but there is no generally accepted length.

I enjoy these brief glimpses into a story or character - hopefully you all will too. Comments and other people’s flash fiction are always welcome!

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Mariten could no longer feel her hands. The pain of the tight bonds turned to cold numbness hours ago. Her hysterical fear had likewise turned to icy calm.

Used to the furtive glances and rejection of the townsfolk, she’d not paid much attention to the whispers and avoidance yesterday. She should have known that Hadriad would seek revenge after she’d rejected him, however privately. But even she would not have guessed he would have the priests declare the need for a sacrifice to bring back the warmth and drive away the cold. They required that the sacrifice must be one with red hair, which assured her death. She was the only unmated person with red hair.

The townsfolk filed past, each bearing wood to add to the growing pyre around and under her. Some looked at her in sorrow, most would not look her in the face. The mound of wood grew and the sun moved low in the sky until only the thinnest rim remained above the horizon.

Cold. She was so cold. The thin red robe she’d been clothed in was no protection from the frost. Another twist of her wrists proved her bonds were still tight. The stickiness on her hands must be her own blood. All day she’d attempted to wriggle free and somehow have a hope of escape, but to no avail. The gag in her mouth made speaking impossible – she could not even plead for her life.

She sagged in the grip of the ropes. They’d come for her before dawn, before she could have any chance to defend herself or escape. Stolen from her bed by Hadriad and his group of cronies, she’d feared rape or even slavery.

Never had she considered her life would end in a forbidden practice – as a sacrifice to the Fire Dragon.

“Not so proud now, Mari? You should have accepted my offer.” Hadriad spoke with quiet menace. “You would have lived a much longer life.”

The once fit warrior, now fat with excess and laziness, moved to stand next to her. His small, dark eyes narrowed in obvious satisfaction as he examined her. A sneer curled his lips at her flinch when he tightened the rope about her body yet again, making it even harder to breathe.

She straightened her trembling legs. She’d be damned if she gave him any satisfaction. She might die but she refused to cower before him. Hadriad was the true coward here. She narrowed her eyes attempting to convey her loathing.

Hadriad held his arm to the side to receive the torch handed to him by one of the priests. The fire would have come from the sacred fire of Dregalla, the Dragon Queen, creator of the world.

Fear clenched her belly again. This was the end. A few tears escaped eyes she thought were beyond any more tears.

Hadriad lowered the torch to the pile of wood and lit the pyre, then stepped back and laughed as the fire caught and spread.

The horror of her impending death ate through Mari’s shock. The heat of the fire increased as it surrounded her.

Great Dregalla, save me from the pain. Let me pass quickly if this is my fate.

The flames licked at the hem of her trailing red gown, closing in around her bare feet. It was hot but not painful. Yet.

Hadriad stared at her, almost waiting for her torment to truly begin.

The flames enveloped her and consumed her gown in a flash. Mari looked down and saw her flesh itself was on fire, tendrils of orange and red racing over her skin. But there was nothing there to feed the fire.

Sudden ferocious pain slammed through her and she threw her head back, a silent scream erupting from her throat. Afraid to know, she still forced herself to look back down at her body. If a soul really remembered the last moments of their prior life, she wanted to remember. She wanted to carry that vision with her into the future. If vengeance could not be hers in this lifetime, she would have it in the next.

Blinking her eyes rapidly to clear the smoke, she stared in horror at herself. Her charred and burnt skin dropped away in sheets from the flesh beneath. The fire opal red scales of a dragon. A fire dragon’s skin.