Realms of the Raven

(It’s still Friday until I go to bed, right? Sorry I’m late - my hand’s been bugging me and typing is a struggle. But I haven’t missed a week yet, and I don’t intend to start today.)

Another bonus point to the people who can recognize the inspiration for this one.

(Archives are on the website, if you want to read the offerings of past weeks)

Raven
(c) 2008 by Maura Anderson, all rights reserved

There he was!

The tall, muscular man followed the hostess through the sparsely occupied restaurant, striding fluidly to the rearmost table. He’d done the same thing every Thursday night for at least the last two months, since Aaron had started working this shift. Until now he’d been forced to admire him from afar, but this week Aaron had finally persuaded Rachel to switch sections with him so he could serve the man who now fueled his dreams and fantasies.

This week his familiar black jeans and worn harness boots were accented by a dark green tee shirt. The soft fabric of the obviously well worn shirt clung to his generous muscles. Aaron wanted to drool at the mere hint of the scupted body beneath the cotton. Aaron realized the bold black pattern wrapped around the man’s arm was a raven tattoo. Exotic, dangerous and very sexy.

The man sat with his back to the wall, as always, alternating between watching the restaurant’s front door and glancing through the dinner menu. He must be waiting for the stockier blonde man that usually joined him for dinner.

“Aren’t you going to greet him, Aaron?”

The other waiter’s amused voice broke his paralysis. With a start, he took a deep breath and trying to ease the nervous flutters in his stomach.

The man glanced up as Aaron neared the table. The man turned out to have surprisingly pale skin but his hair was an intense blue-black and was drawn back into a tight, long braid. Lush lashes framed equally intense eyes so light they seemed silver. His slightly hooked nose and sharp cheekbones gave him an almost predatory appearance.

Aaron had to swallow twice before he could force out a description of today’s specials. Those silver eyes seemed to see into his soul - he could only hope that he didn’t glance down at the erection straining his black slacks.

Instead the man nodded and smiled slightly. Hell, even a casual smile made Aaron’s cock jerk in excitement. He’d dreamed about this man for weeks, stroked his cock and pretended it was this man’s hands. Ached to be filled by him.

“I’d like some water, please. And some for my guest. He should be here shortly.” Raspy and deep, even the man’s voice was a turn on.

Aaron struggled to form a coherent answer. “Certainly, sir. I’ll get that for you now.”

“Raven, sorry I’m late.” The blonde man had arrived and now Aaron had a name to put to the man’s face. A name to cry out when he came.

Aaron’s face grew hot. “I’ll get the water,” he muttered as he turned and fled. He could almost feel Raven’s eyes following him.

Only partially successful in calming himself down, Aaron set the glasses of ice water on the small server tray and braced himself to approach the two men and take their order. The blonde man was chattering away at Raven, who sat leaned back in his chair and looked amused and perhaps a bit bored.

Rather than sliding the water glass across the table, Aaron stepped behind the table to serve Raven from the side. As if in slow motion, he felt his foot catch the edge of the chair leg and his body lurched forward, tray and drinks sliding from his hands directly onto Raven’s lap.

Raven’s mouth and eyes opened wide in shock at the sudden coldness of the ice water. He gasped wordlessly and almost tipped his chair open in an attempt to escape.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Aaron babbled apologies as he snatched up the glasses and tray. He gathered up the big ice cubes and tossed them onto the tray to dispose of. Once he’d picked up the worst of it, Raven pushed back from the table even further and tried to brush off what water he could and wring out his shirt.

His pants were a different matter.

Aaron dropped to his knees beside Raven’s chair and began to blot up the water soaked into Raven’s jeans with his bar towel. His mortification at his slip was mixing with his longing to be doing more than sopping up water from this man’s pants. He wanted to be in Raven’s pants.

“I think our little blue-eyed waiter likes you, Raven.” The other man’s voice was obviously amused.

When he looked up and met Raven’s searching gaze, all he could do was nod.

I was speaking to someone at Epicon and, in the course of conversation, we touched on the difference between writing a series and writing a serial. Note that these are the definitions that I tend to use and may vary slightly from the definitions of others.

A series is a set of two or more full stories that share one or more commonalities. That commonality may be a world, one or more characters, a key concept, specific plot devices, etc.

Del Fantasma books (from Aspen Mountain Press) are a series - they share the following:

• a basic world, a continuity character (Cody)
• a location (the Del Fantasma Bar)
• a plot device (they all have drinks that relate somehow to the story)
• a genre (they are all paranormals)

A serial, on the other hand, is a story that is told in discrete sections over a period of time, often without a pre-determined ending. Think “soap opera” - those are serials. Some authors publish serials on their websites or mailing lists as well as in magazines or other venues.

The wonderful WitchGiggles said (in part):

This is a story with all the elements; distrust, fear, lust turning to trust, love and acceptance, good sex scenes and fully rounded characters. Great fun to read.

You can read the full review on the Alternative-Read review blog but you should read some of the other reviews as well - it’s a great review site and I love their takes on different stories.

remember that you can read my Friday Flash archive on this page of my website.

Caress of the Sea Witch
(c) 2008 by Maura Anderson, all rights reserved

She stared at him from the safety of the ocean’s rhythmic waves. Breathing deeply and raggedly, he lay above the tide’s marks on the peaceful beach. Bronzed skin glowed in the sunlight and the white, sun-warmed sand stuck to his damp, muscular body as if dusted on.

Every day for the last month, he had dove into the ocean before dawn and swam until the sun was high. His hard, defined muscles worked for hours, swimming through the waves almost as if born to the sea. Almost as graceful as she was. Exhausted, he would drag himself from the water to collapse on the beach until his taller friend finally came to collect him, to coax him to his feet and force him to walk away from the water.

Who was this dark-haired man?

He came into her watery domain as if compelled, yet she never sang for him, never drew him in. Instead he entranced her until she found herself waiting near the shore for him every day, ever afraid that each day would be the one that he would appear, would not come to her.

Today she finally gave in to her fascination and touched him with her magic. Slick as the water he swam in, she caressed his warm, laboring muscles. Learned the texture of the hair on his head as well the coarser hair on his body. Her magic swirled over his chiseled abdomen and slicked over his growing erection.

Too soon, he swam to shore and stumbled away. But she could no longer take the chance he would stop his visits. She needed to know this human, a need she’d never before felt in all her long life. A need that consumed her.

She floated toward the shore, closed her eyes and gathered her magic to her, casting the spell she’d only used once before. Power swirled around her, encased her, then receded. The sensations of having legs and a human body were so strange she collapsed to her knees.

Most authors are familiar with the idea of a critique partner or critique groups. Some authors have one (or more) but some are quite happy writing alone.

Another source of valuable input and feedback is a test reader. While critique partners or groups tend to give you feedback as you go and often help plot the book along the way, a test or beta reader takes your finished or mostly finished material and reads it as a savvy reader without advanced knowledge. The test reader, in essence, is your first check of what your regular readers will think.

The job of the test reader is to read the story and make notes of anything that pulls them out of the story, any time they are bored and want to just skip ahead, and times where things don’t make sense. In general, they don’t worry about spelling or grammar unless it’s so bad it really impacts their ability to read and enjoy the story.

Not all test readers are created the same, however. An effective and thorough test reader is one that gives you value back for the chance to read the story ahead of time. You may have to try multiple people before you find just one really GOOD test reader.

A test reading gives you some assurance that you story, when picked up off a shelf, makes sense, reads well and will most likely please your readers (and editor).

I’ve decided to talk a little about ways to use the Futhark runes before I go into the meanings and interpretation of each one. I’ll warn you in advance, though, that I’m stating my OWN beliefs and uses and those may vary from person to person. With all tools like this, it’s important to experiment and see just how that tool or theory fits your personality and your needs as well as your own belief system.

Like many things, one size does not fit all.

Read the rest of this entry »

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