Thursday, 25 September 2014

Spotlighting the shadow



Hello, and welcome to the 'SPOTLIGHTING THE SHADOW' Blog Tour. My name is Rhani D'Chae, and I am the author of Shadow of the Drill, a revenge thriller. Shadow is my first published novel and has been on Amazon for about nine months. During that time I connected with Rave Reviews Book Club, and have been overwhelmed by the support that I, as a fledgling author, have received from them. They're an awesome group of people and I'm so glad that I connected with them.
   Shadow of the Drill is the story of a man (Decker), whose life was drastically altered by a random act of violence that tore his world apart and changed him from an unproven young street tough into a man on a mission of revenge.  Please enjoy my "URP" DAY below...
  
"Urp" Day

   A writer's mind is always on, spotting potential characters and plot lines in every day activities and personal interactions.  Therefore, a day in the life of a writer is often filled with magic; with the creation of worlds, the laying of roads to be traveled, and the intimate dance between writer and character that will (hopefully) leave a reader reluctantly closing the cover and desperately wanting more.
   I've had a few of those days, but I wanted to share a day from my past that was not quite so…noble. The one that my roommate, my son, and I will always remember as 'Urp day'.
   Several years ago, I decided to self publish my first novel in paperback, and they foolishly agreed to help me, regretting their offer almost immediately. To this day, my roomie practically breaks out in hives whenever that little project is mentioned, while my son refuses to discuss it at all. 
   The text had already been formatted, so on that day it needed only to be printed and handed over to my two-person assembly crew, whose job was to cut the pages and assemble the individual books.
   I usually tried to start each day with a devout prayer to the printer gods, because no one had bothered to tell my Laserjet that it was a new machine and consequently, should not jam. As a result, if I didn't do at least one brisk skip around my computer area while clapping my hands and singing a few off-key lines of Take on me, I was sure to spend the rest of the day picking torn bits of paper from the bowels of my printer with a pair of eyebrow tweezers. I invented a whole new range of profanities before the printing phase was done, let me tell you.
   On that day, I was at the computer, doing last minute touch-ups to the text before clicking print, and my minions were in the living room, cutting the pages and laying the books out in rows of five. We were running behind schedule, and I had forgone my printer dance, thinking that it couldn't possibly matter. And it probably didn't. I just know that by noon I'd had half a dozen paper jams, the last of them requiring a trip to the printer doc for a minor procedure called a cash transplant, in which twenty-five dollars was removed from my pocket and inserted into his. I wish that I'd had a camera that day so that I could have immortalized the ineptitude in action that resulted from two tired old fat girls and one idiot boy trying to load a bulky, oversized machine that weighed about at much as the average Volkswagon into a back seat that had not been designed to hold anything larger than a six-pack.
   Home again, I picked up where I'd left off, printing about fifty pages at a time so as not to get too far ahead of my worker bees. They were beginning to mumble some sort of foolishness about 'lunch' but I wasn't listening. The printer was working without too many complaints, and I wanted to keep going as long as it would let me.
   About that time, my cat decided to jump onto my lap. I don't know how many of you have typed around a cat, but it requires the ability to type your own text while simultaneously correcting the cat's attempts to help, which Silme' did by either walking or laying on the keyboard. I moved him away three or four times, set him on the floor at least twice, and finally gave him a ball that could be opened and filled with nip. How was I to know that the little addict would pry open the ball and eat every bit of the product inside? He was gone for a bit, and I thought that he'd been adequately distracted. Suddenly, he fell from the ceiling, as cats often do, and landed on top of the monitor enclosure. I should have seen the combination of his glazed eyes and the cobra-like sway of his body for the warning that it was, but I was focused on my book and nothing else was registering. I did hear my roomie say the he looked a little goofy, but by then it was too late.
   A little vomit on top of the enclosure would have been a small thing; a paper towel would have made it a memory in less than a minute. But Silme' never did anything 'small'. He projectile vomited a mixture of partially digested food and the contents of one fully packed nip ball, directly onto my keyboard. "Urp" day was born, and the work day came to a very abrupt end. 
*****

Thank you all so much for allowing me to share a bit of my journey with you today.  To follow the rest of my tour, please visit4WillsPublishing.  Julie, you were a great host and thank you so much for having me!

BIO:
RHANI D. CHAE has always been an avid reader.  She enjoys chatting with readers and fellow writers via social networking sites and loves getting comments and other input from those who have read her work.  So, please don't leave without sharing your comments.


PURCHASE LINKS:
"SHADOW OF THE DRILL" by Rhani D. Chae  www.amazon.com/dp/B00ENNBC48

CONTACT INFO:
Twitter:  @rhanidchae

Rhani's Author Page at 4WillsPublishing
***This tour was sponsored by 4WillsPublishing.wordpress.com  To book your own tour, please contact us.***

Behold the dawn - K M Weiland



                                                                             About the book


Behold the Dawn
The vengeance of a monk. The love of a countess. The secrets of a knight. 

Marcus Annan, a knight famed for his prowess in the deadly tourney competitions, thought he could keep the bloody secrets of his past buried forever. But when a mysterious crippled monk demands Annan help him wreak vengeance on a corrupt bishop, Annan is forced to leave the tourneys and join the Third Crusade in the Holy Land. 

Wounded in battle and hunted on every side, he agrees to marry—in name only—the traumatized widow of an old friend, in order to protect her from the obsessive pursuit of a mutual enemy. Together, they escape an infidel prison camp and flee the Holy Land. But, try as he might, he cannot elude the past—or his growing feelings for the Lady Mairead. Amidst the pain and grief of a war he doesn’t even believe in, he is forced at last to face long-hidden secrets and sins and to bare his soul to the mercy of a God he thought he had abandoned years ago. 



About the author

K.M. Weiland lives in make-believe worlds, talks to imaginary friends, and survives primarily on chocolate truffles and espresso. She is the internationally published author of the Amazon bestsellers Outlining Your Novel and Structuring Your Novel, as well as the western A Man Called Outlaw, the medieval epic Behold the Dawn, and the epic fantasy Dreamlander. When she’s not making things up, she’s busy mentoring other authors on her site helpingwritersbecomeauthors.com. She makes her home in western Nebraska. Find out more about her fiction at kmweiland.com.


My Review

I love the Middle Ages and can appreciate the research and attention to detail that has gone into this story. Unfortunately for me personally there was far too much about the crusades and although the plot  has been described as 'action-packed', it was confusing rather than enthralling. I did find myself skipping bits so would recommend this for die-hard fans of the crusades only. I liked the way in which the period is evoked by phrases and expressions that give a nod to the time although one or two words did seem out of place.  I feel this book is aimed more at a specialist niche than the general market.

3/5

Wednesday, 3 September 2014

Renaissance of the heart - Interview with Lori Jones




                                                                              

After her husband of fifteen years comes out of the closet, a blindsided, forty-year-old Amanda Lewis is forced to salvage what remains of her shattered heart and navigate a new life for herself and her teenage daughter. But will a sizzling secret romance with a famous young NFL quarterback lead her to winning the life she deserves or set her up for her biggest loss yet?

As she embarks on the journey of rebuilding her home, Amanda discovers that finding forgiveness and repairing her damaged self-worth are her biggest challenges of all. While searching her soul–and even searching inside her city's history–she finds answers. But will answers come too late and can a broken heart ever be truly fixed?


 Excerpt

 Chapter 1
"If we had no winter, the spring would not be so pleasant. If we did not sometimes taste of adversity, prosperity would not be so welcome." -Anne Bradstreet 

JANUARY
Six days of relentless self-pity mingled with bouts of guttural sobbing. Pain so persistent her hair hurt. The raw grief now behind her, Amanda recognized the brilliant face of hope poking through her dank mood, offering a piece of relief from the misery. Although an unshowered, disheveled mess, she intended to celebrate hope. The sunshiny face of hope. Her focus now, along with surviving a Saturday night alone, would be getting to the root of why he left, and then fixing the problem.
Three drops of red wine cascaded from the glass's rim, adding another stain to Amanda's sweatpants. Making her way to the sofa, her comforting friend, she tugged at the drooping waistband. One benefit to Derrick announcing the end to their fifteen year marriage one week ago, she mused, was the loss of a few pounds. What a cruel diet plan. She flipped through the movie channels unable to find one she hadn't already seen this week. Enough with the nauseating love stories.
The remote hit the floor as she reached for her cell phone, which alerted her to a new text. Probably another friend checking in or a family member inviting her to a sympathy dinner, she thought.
It was Derrick. His name on the phone screen shot a ball of sickness into her gut. After a quick response, she bolted up the steps to her bedroom, hitting her sister's number on her speed dial on the way.
"Deb, Derrick wants to meet me for a drink tonight. What do you think?" Amanda asked, yanking her pink sweater from the hamper, Derrick's favorite.
"I think maybe he finally got his head out of his ass and wants his perfect life back." Her sister's irritated tone evident and expected. But his life obviously hadn't been perfect here, and Amanda had to know what she did to cause his departure.
With another sigh, Amanda spoke, not really wanting advice or comfort, but just needing her sister's reassuring company. "I'm not sure what's gonna happen, but I'm nervous, really nervous."
"Text me if things aren't going well and I'll come over and key his precious Beamer in the parking lot."
Amanda laughed—a laugh only her sister could create. "That would be wonderful. Thank you!"
"You got it. Hey, because of this snowstorm coming in, Lilly's going to just sleep over. Don will bring her home in the morning if the roads are clear, okay? It's teen horror movie night at the Pucharelli household!"
"Sounds great. Lilly deserves a fun distraction. Thanks again!" Although the thought of her daughter not sleeping in the next room tonight caused a wave of sadness to wash across her heart, she knew she needed to focus on Derrick.
"Good luck tonight, Mand. Be tough."
After dressing, she peered into Lilly's room. What would life be like for Lilly if Derrick stayed away for good? How many other nights would Amanda spend alone in this house? With a hard sigh, she headed to the garage.
In typical Pittsburgh fashion, the gray January sky hung low, the snowflakes increasing in volume. Amanda's impractical choice of pumps over snowboots screamed vanity, but her attempt to look attractive for her husband reflected her desperation and her hope he would come home to her. Praying out loud in her SUV over the blaring courage-building music, she pleaded with God to end this nightmare. With a glance upward into the grayness, she petitioned for her greatest fear to be dispelled; Derrick had found another woman.
Since his departure, her imagination had played out the possibility of infidelity. Pulling into the restaurant's parking lot, her mind traveled there one final time. Perhaps their basically sexless marriage had been a warning of his unhappiness. He had been visiting the gym more often and wearing cologne at odd times. Could those be signs of a new love?

She forced the gear shift into park while sucking in one more breath. She entered the snowy night.
Her eyes, sore from crying the night before, scanned through the trendy restaurant. She moved through the irritating noise of people engaged in conversations and followed the sounds of the Saturday night crowd into the bar. A pungent waft of heavy garlic turned her stomach.
She instantly recognized the back of his dirty blonde hair, shiny with hair products. Derrick turned in his barstool. Dressed as if he had just walked from a Banana Republic ad in his dry-cleaner pressed khakis and lime green oxford, he faced her, looking as handsome as the day they had met in college. She thought it unfair his graying temples only added to his good looks. Locking eyes, she felt the same excited flutter she had when she spotted him in their Greek Mythology class nineteen years ago. Her mind knew his scent before she was close enough for her nose to detect it.
Standing with an exaggerated eagerness, he pulled out a barstool and slid it toward her. She interpreted this as his attempt to avoid hugging her.
"Hey…hi there, Amanda."
"Hi...Hey, Derrick, how are you?"
Their words stumbled over each other's like two people on a blind date attempting small talk, weighted with awkwardness. Keeping the discussion to the topic of Lilly, their only child, they finished half of their beers. Although not typically affectionate with each other in public, she touched his thigh twice during their conversation, reminding him she had been his wife for a long time.
"Look," he said, redirecting his eyes to the dwindling foam on top of his beer.
She tensed. Pushing her long auburn hair over her shoulder, she knew conversations starting with "look" are typically not good.
"I have something difficult to tell you but I think it's something you've known all along."
"What?" Her eyes hit his, and then fell to her glass. Her heart pounded.
"Will you look at me, please?"

She did. In the moment of silence, she studied his flawless face and remembered the times she would joke he had a prettier face than she had. His tired eyes, she thought, seemed to be straining, perhaps trying to tell her his news without having to speak.
He blew a long breath through his lips, proclaiming, "I'm seeing someone."
She knew it. With three words, her fear turned reality.
"Who? What… who?"
"It's not important--"
"Not important? Who is she? How long, Derrick, has this been going on?" His secretary? A woman at the gym?
"It's a man, Amanda. I'm seeing a man. I'm gay. I'm so sorry. I've known for long time--"
"No. No. You're joking…" Her head shook as if it could knock out his words.
"Amanda, I'm sorry. I need to end the lying."
Her breathing paralyzed; her body wanted to faint, to shut down. The blood left her head and her limbs. From deep within her gut, she forced out, "You bastard." A week ago when Derrick walked out of the house with a suitcase he had packed without her knowledge, she thought there could never be a greater feeling of shock than at that moment. But, she had been wrong.
Caught in a nightmare, she needed to escape. She wanted to run, to scream, to grab a vodka bottle from behind the bar and smash it across his beautiful face. Jolted by laughter from a group of men watching the NFC Wild Card playoff game next to her, she started to breathe again.
Questions rattled in her mind like coins loose in a spinning dryer. Voice quivering, she asked, "Why? Why all these years of lying? Why now? Why cheat on me and not be honest? Do I deserve that?"
His face twisted in anguish as he attempted to explain, "It never seemed like the right time to hurt you or Lilly. I was happy, most of the time. You are… my best friend. I do love you, Amanda." His patronizing touch on her arm burned. "I pushed it away. I tried every day to push who I was away so we could have our life. Then I met Jake and I knew I couldn't live this lie any longer. I couldn't face you and Lilly anymore."
Since his words weren't diminishing the sting, she attacked, "I hate you. I hate you so much."
The polished young couple next to them halted their possibly first or second date conversation to look her way in stunned curiosity, causing Amanda to swallow her words. She cursed him internally for doing this to her in public.
Looking away from all eyes, pretending to watch the football game, something she would ordinarily enjoy, she continued in a weak whisper, "You are nothing but a coward and a liar. You stood in a church and promised to love me forever and honor me. You're a liar. Oh my God, you're definitely leaving me. You have a boyfriend! Oh my God…"
Unlike a week ago when his announcement left her frozen, staring at him unable to cry, the tears came easily now. She buried her face into a napkin and watched a mental video of their life together. Then flashed the signs. Signs that should have told her he was gay. He had loved cooking and shopping. Were those signs? Of course not, her mind yelled as she pressed her fingers into her temples. What about a voice inside her whispering that something was not quite right?
Though what he told her clearly ended their marriage, her mind searched for ways to fix the situation. Her heart naively searched for hope. Maybe this was a temporary mid-life crisis?
He touched her shoulder. Pulling her posture upright, she inhaled causing the anger to devour the sadness, creating a strength needed to continue. "Why not do this before we walked down the aisle? You robbed me of fifteen years of my life." Then she saw Lilly's face. If they had not walked down that aisle, there would be no Lilly, no beautiful Lilly.
"I wish I had been brave enough to face who I was back then. I'm so sorry. I loved you and I chose you, Mand. I know I was a coward. I suppose I let society's expectations of me decide my fate. But I'm ready now to start my life over."
Start his life over? So, he rewound the video of his life so he could record a new one, erasing her. Her thoughts froze and she ended the questioning. Outwardly, anyway.

They discussed the cold details of divorce: lawyers, living arrangements and Lilly. Gracious and giving at this point due to his guilt, Amanda doubted he could remain agreeable throughout a divorce process. The Derrick she knew loved a good argument.


Author Bio



Lori lives in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania where she writes women's and children's fiction. RENAISSANCE OF THE HEART is her debut novel. She's also the author of children's books, RILEY'S HEART MACHINE and CONFETTI THE CROC, both written with the hope that children will celebrate what make them unique. She's also written award-winning flash fiction pieces and her articles have been featured in various publications.
Lori serves on the Board of Directors for the Children's Heart Foundation and is the president of their Pennsylvania chapter. She visits schools to speak about writing, about the human heart and about embracing what makes you special.
Besides writing and spreading awareness about Congenital Heart Defects, her passions include her two daughters, her husband, Mark, her Pittsburgh sports teams and running in 5Ks. Lori is a member of Pennwriters and she loves her local writing groups! She is a graduate of the University of Pittsburgh at Johnstown with a Bachelor of Arts degree in communication and journalism. She also holds a paralegal certificate from Duquesne University and is a former Washington, D.C. paralegal. Visit her website at www.lorimjones.com.

*RILEY'S HEART MACHINE (Guardian Angel Publishing)
*RENAISSANCE OF THE HEART
(Soul Mate Publishing, Spring 2014)
*CONFETTI THE CROC (Winter 2014)
www.facebook.com/LoriMJonesAuthor

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Interview


    Can you tell us what prompted you to first start writing? What was the first thing you wrote?
I remember walking in the woods one day in college following a big snowstorm. I wanted to capture the beauty of the scene – not just the beauty of what I saw but the beauty of what I felt. When I wrote about snowy walk, I loved the way it made me feel – like music to my soul.  Then when my first daughter was born, I made up stories to tell her and I began my children’s fiction writing adventure. It wasn’t until 2009 that I started working on my first novel.

    Can you summarize your latest work in just a few words?

This latest published book: I’d describe as a quest to find forgiveness and love after major heartbreak.

    What was the inspiration for this book?

I wanted to use my own journey of surviving divorce (with similar circumstances) and finding forgiveness and turn it into a character’s story. So, I took my own experience, married it with a “what if” scenario and threw in my love of Pittsburgh and football (added in some fantasy) and Renaissance was born. I’d heard Stephanie Meyer (author of Twilight) say how she got started by simply writing down her fantasy on her laptop while being a stay at home mom. Shortly after, I sat down at my own laptop and typed away!


 Did you do any research for the book?

Since my own divorce happened in Maryland, I had to research Pennsylvania divorce laws. And, I had my husband take me on a date at the fancy restaurant that my characters frequented – purely for research!
Other than that, most of the story came from my own experiences and also my own knowledge and love of football.

   What does a typical writing day involve for you?

I write every Wednesday with a group of fellow writers in a meeting room at a local restaurant. Other than that, I have no set schedule. I try to write maybe a few hours here and there at local coffee shops while my kids are in school. Or, I’ll steal a few hours late at night when the kids go to bed.

   How do you decide on the names for your characters?

For this book, I used names of family & friends for all the support characters. Derrick, Lilly & Jake were just names I liked and fit the characters personalities. For Amanda & Bradley, twenty years ago, I decided to try to write a romance novel. I had the main characters’ names – Amanda and Bradley – but had no plot, nothing to write about. Then life happened to me and I gathered lots of plot! So, when I wrote Renaissance, I kept the names Amanda and Bradley.  For other novels, I’ve researched the meanings of certain names to fit the characters. And sometimes, a name just pops into my head and it sticks.


Which writers have influenced your own writing?

Anita Shreve, Jodi Picoult and Emily Giffin are some of my favorites, so they certainly influence my writing. Currently, I’d say I’m enjoying the writing style of Liane Moriarity.

  What are you working on next? Do you have a WIP?

I’m finishing up my third novel that is women’s fiction with some controversial romantic twists. When a forty-something wealthy suburban housewife finds out she’s in need of life-saving kidney transplant, her husband and friends prove not to be so supportive. But she soon finds comfort from two men from her past.


   What has been the best part of the writing process…and the worst?

The best part is a scene or a chapter comes together and exceeds my expectations. When I see it go from a bunch of words into art. When I read back over something I’ve written and think, wow, I wrote that?! And I also love when I’m not at my laptop but off doing something else, and my characters start talking in my head and create a whole scene when I hadn’t even planned to write that day. And the worst part is the business side. It’s very tough. If only we writers could spend all of our time creating, but that’s just not the reality of it.

Tell us about your travels.  

I’ve probably visited less than ½ the states in the US and been to Mexico and the Caribbean, but I’ve never been overseas. But certainly, someday, I would love to visit Italy, France and England.

Tell us about your childhood.

I grew up in a very loving family in the Pittsburgh suburbs. Looking back, we didn’t have a whole lot of money, but we were never in need of a thing. I’d describe my childhood as very happy. I’m still very close with my family – in fact, I live next door to my sister!

.Most writers have some quirks – what are yours?  

I’m quirk-free, completely normal! Well, honestly, I’m not sure. I do carry on extensive conversations in my head with my characters while in the shower, on a run or in the middle of the night.




.Do you plot your novels or allow them to develop as you write?

A little of both. I have a general idea of where I’m going, but then I like to see where my characters take me. As I get toward the end, I’ll generally try to outline the final chapters to make sure I’m tying up all loose ends. But that outline is very cryptic and general. And, once I start writing the chapter, I may completely change something that I had planned for story.

 Have you taken any creative writing courses and would you recommend them?

I took some non-credit creative writing courses after college when I first thought about becoming a writer. I would absolutely recommend taking writing courses to anyone serious about writing. Especially in the beginning.

1What book(s) are you reading at the moment? 

I’m reading Liane Moriarity’s Big Little Lies and also a book on how to promote my children’s books.

 If you were stranded on a desert island and could only take three books with you, what would they be and why?

Bible – because if I were all alone I’d surely be in need of some spiritual guidance, a wilderness survival guide of some sort –  for practical reasons, and the “Thorn Bird” because it’s my favorite romance novel.

1Do you have any advice for new writers?

Yes, to join writing groups and connect with fellow writers for support because I’ve learned so much through them. You can’t do this alone. And, you need feedback on your writing. Who better to give you feedback then a fellow writer? And, just keep writing! Write every day if you can. And keep reading everything in your genre. And drink wine. Lots of wine!
THANK YOU so much! These questions were a lot of fun!