Guest Post: Beyond Vampires? It’s Risky Business

As a writer of urban fantasy, I frequently hear the lament that readers are tired of vampires and werewolves. If you look at the number of television programs and movies featuring vampires and werewolves, it would be easy to dismiss this claim. Moreover, the stories are quite different, despite the fact that they feature common species of creatures. Tales of these beings endure because each writer creates his/her own mythology about them.

In my urban fantasies, I try to combine mythology, current fads, and a touch of whimsy. It works: fairies on the runway, dragons on Wall Street, Were-predators in law enforcement or the military, and vampires in control of the entertainment industry. All are governed by the Incubi—who also happen to run the world’s hotels and resorts.

Logical and easy to follow, right? But there’s a risk. What if your audience isn’t familiar with the new paranormal species?

As an example, in House of the Rising Son, one of my characters is a drag queen who moonlights as a nanny. She’s Huldra: A Norse forest spirit who seduces human men and/or steals human babies. When introduced, I identified her as her as Huldra, and referred to her cow-like tail and her woodsy, forest essence. Perfect—except that readers, unfamiliar with Huldra, wanted more.

Writing about a lesser-known supernatural or mythical creature is risky. Readers may need a great deal more information than the author is able to provide in the context of the scene. Giving an information dump of detail about the new species may take the reader out of the story. Conversely, not giving enough detail may have the same effect.

The lesson, I suppose, is that going beyond vampires and werewolves is risky. But for me, the reward of creating whimsical and interesting characters makes the risk worthwhile.

Trevann
Sometimes, being yourself means Living After Midnight.


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Living After Midnight, Book 1

Blurb:

Cheyenne is a half-human incubus whose star is on the rise in the Unakite City rock scene. His father, the leader of the supernatural races, would prefer he keep a “low profile”, but screw that. Cheyenne has as much music in his veins as royal incubi blood.

Alexander's future is all set—finish law school, join the family firm, and marry someone who'd be good for business. Not that he has a say in any of it. He's barely met the woman his father expects him to marry.

As Cheyenne's musical career takes off, his carefully constructed life begins to unravel, exacerbated by an ex-lover who can't let go, a crotchety barkeeper with a dirty mind and a pure heart, a drag queen who moonlights as a nanny, and Alexander—who's not sure if he's falling for the incubus or the rocker.

Cheyenne denies who he is, while Alexander hides what he wants. Together, they learn that getting what they truly want means being who they truly are.

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Excerpt:

While waiting for their drinks, Alexander studied the deep grooves carved into the table, trying to ignore the friction of Cheyenne’s thigh rubbing against his as the musician tapped a heel to the thump of the DJ’s music. Once the drinks arrived, Alexander downed half the bottle before he realized Cheyenne’s large green eyes were staring at him.

“So where’s your girl, Prudhomme? I mean, Prune Danish. No, wait...”

“Prudish. Shit, Prudence,” Alexander sputtered.

Cheyenne’s eyes sparkled. “No, you got it right the first time. Where is she?”

He shrugged. “Home, I guess.”

Cheyenne cocked his head. “Oh, really?” He put his hand on Alexander’s leg. “What’s up? You can tell me.”

“It’s not working out.” Alexander dragged his teeth over his lower lip. “It’s my fault.”

He couldn’t keep his attraction to Cheyenne out of his voice. “I don’t know what’s happening to me.”

Cheyenne put his thumb to his lip and paused. “It’s like the drink.”

Alexander tilted his head, not sure he heard correctly. “The drink?”

“Yeah, that nasty ass bourbon. I bet your father drinks it. Your uncles. All your friends. Everybody, right?”

He didn’t answer, but waited for Cheyenne to continue.

“It was just expected that you’d drink it too. So you did.” His hand moved up Alexander’s thigh. “But now, maybe it’s okay to drink what you like. A different brand, a better vintage. Because you want it.
Because it tastes better.” Cheyenne licked his lips. “Because it feels right.”

Alexander cleared his throat and brushed his lap, pushing Cheyenne’s hand away. “I can’t.”

“If you change your mind, let me know.”

“You don’t understand. It’s not that easy. My whole life will change.”

“It already has.”
~~

You can find House of the Rising Son on Samhain Publishing, Barnes and Noble and Amazon. 

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Author on the web:

www.trevannrogers.com

www.facebook.com/trevannr

www.pinterest.com/trevannr

www.twitter.com/trevannrogers

I Dream of Spaceships, Faeries, Vampires and Dragons.

Guest Post by Livia Quinn

My mother worked for NASA when I was a kid, so I met astronauts and dreamed about going to outer space. I’d sit in my over stuffed reading chair and devour Astronomy books, Tom Swift, and all the Justice Leaque heroes. So when I started writing it was only natural that my contemporary stories took on a paranormal twist.

When I read, I want to escape. And while I read all genres, the best escapes for me are those magical realms that can’t possibly exist—or can they. I mean, what if my boss is really a dragon? Or a vampire? Think about it, whether it’s fairy tales or vampires, shifters or zombies, light or dark; whether we call it paranormal, urban fantasy, or science fiction, it’s all the stuff of our fantasies. It takes us away from our real lives. It’s pure escape since we’re pretty sure that paranormal beings don’t exist. (Personally, I’d love to explore the possibility of meeting Roarke and taking a trip in his personal jet to his Olympus resort. Yes!)

There’s something for everyone in this big paranormal world. Look at the variety on screen – Supernatural, Thor, Grimm, Sleepy Hollow, the Walking Dead, Bitten, Witches of Eastwick, The Avengers, Once Upon a Time, Vampire Diaries… 

Someone said when they found out I was going to see Avatar for the third time, or Star Wars, “That’s for kids. Why don’t you grow up?” I feel sad for them because although there’s a side of me that is very practical, the other side is stimulated and energized by the dream of other worlds, other peoples, and other realms. By the magical possibilities. Why would I give that up?

Why do you love fantasy? What’s your favorite sub-genre?

My Destiny Paramortals series set in Destiny, Louisiana began with my fear of severe weather, which was always a problem for me while delivering the mail. Writing about the Paranormals has been rather cathartic since my heroine is a storm witch. Here’s the blurb for the book 1, Storm Crazy.


Destiny – is it Mayberry or Middle Earth?

My name is Tempest Pomeroy, and my human job is delivering the mail in Destiny, Louisiana. I’m also a Paramortal like my family, or I’m supposed to be. If I didn’t have a few little talents, I’d think I was adopted. It’s just two weeks until Mardi Gras, and I’m having a bad day. That’s like saying Katrina dropped a little rain on the Gulf Coast.

First, River’s amphora went missing—that’s genie bottle to you mere-mortals—and on my first delivery, a handsome scantily clad doctor triggered some sort of hallucination, with just a touch. Pheromones? Then, one of my customers had a stroke while reading me the riot act over a piece of mail, but I saved the old fart with a zap of my Zeus juice! It was the first time I’d actually called my power on purpose, and Destiny’s hunky new sheriff almost saw me use my magic—big no-no—when he responded to the call.

He showed up again when the local florist filed a complaint against me for dropping a seventy-five-pound box on his foot. Yeah, I did it, but it was kind of an accident. He put his hand where it didn’t belong, and my fingers… sorta slipped. Then, things got worse. I discovered a dead body in the clubhouse and rescued my brother’s amphora from a locker, bashing it in with a Greg Norman wedge.

Guess who showed up? You guessed it.

I’ve denied my heritage for too long. Now, my brother is missing, my mother’s out of pocket, and the sheriff and my ex-lover are squaring off like yard dogs staking a claim over a poodle. I am no one’s poodle. Is it any wonder I’m calling this the worst M.A.L.E day of my life? My friend Aurora says all the chaos is a sign of my quickening Tempestaerie power, and more changes are on the wind.
Oh, and the sheriff? He thought he’d settled in a normal small town to raise his teenage daughter—like Mayberry?! We’ll see how that turns out…

Things better settle down soon, ‘cause I’m about to go... Storm Crazy.

 Excerpt: Tempe calls her power for the first time.

“ETA is eight minutes,” the dispatcher said in her calm, almost bored voice. “Can you give me any information for the EMTs?”

Eight...friggin’… minutes. “Mid-eighties...he had some kind of seizure and he’s not breathing.”

Seconds ticked off as I continued to pump his chest. I stopped, put my fingers to his mouth. Nothing.

“Oomph,” I sat back. He wasn’t going to make it. Unless… Maybe there was something I could do, but then I’d never actually attempted it. Usually it just happened when things got out of control. Well—not things—me.

Part of the problem was I’d be in clear sight of anyone looking this way from their front yard or driving down the street, but if I didn’t try something before the EMTs arrived, he was going to die. I looked around. It had to be now. I wondered if my little zapper would have enough zip.
Mr. Jackson’s tirade had miraculously not drawn any attention. The street was deserted. A squirrel bounded onto the road nearby, swished his tail madly and took off toward a large oak. At least he couldn’t tell.

 Extending my hand out in front of me, Palm up, I concentrated, willing the power inside me to obey.

Nothing. I squeezed my eyes shut, grit my teeth, and whispered hopefully, “Come to me.”

Blast! I sounded like a bad vamp movie. Separating my index finger, the one with the tiny tattoo-like image on the tip, away from my other fingers, I turned it up toward the darkening sky. The cells in my body began to vibrate. Like an energy solar panel, menori tapped the unstable air and focused it like a laser through the tattoo, accumulating until my head felt like it would explode.

The rumble beneath my feet was the only notice I had of the electric strike that rode straight up my legs, curling in my midsection and crawling swiftly along my right arm to produce my own version of a Fourth of July sparkler, emanating from that fingertip. Then the sparks changed. Brilliant bolts of crackling white light spit and sizzled in my palm, sending jagged streamers of hot blue fire ten feet into the air.

I gawked.

A car entering a nearby street freed me from the mesmerizing light display. This was different from any of the charging I’d previously experienced. Bigger. Usually it just sort of replenished on its own. Panicked, I looked over my shoulder, and exhaled. So far so good.

Now what? I needed to command the fire in my hand to... what? Before I could say, “Be gone,” or “Go thither,” the light subsided to a small crackly glow. That was it then.

Instinct took over. I knelt beside Mr. Jackson and placed my glowing index finger against his chest. With a single szzwaattt, I zapped him, right in the heart. His chest arched up only the barest of seconds as it met my magical defibrillator, then his body relaxed.

Momentarily deafened and somewhat addled as my faculties came back online, I groped for the pulse in his neck. For a second I thought I’d failed. But then, his tired, smoke glutted organ started beating.
Thank the gods.

Only the slight whiff of burnt flesh remained on the wind. Drained of energy, I swiped the back of my hand across my forehead. And saw the mark.

“Zeus’ rechargeable bolts! That better be temporary.”

Centered on the spot where I’d zapped him, a pale image was forming. It looked like a pale, mini version of… well… me.

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Buy Links-  

Storm Crazy is available on all retailers:

Amazon http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00L02VHE0

ARe https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-stormcrazydestinyparamortals-1959040-140.html

Nook http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/2940152782684

Createspace https://www.createspace.com/4781807

Goodreads   https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/22734226

iBooks     https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/storm-crazy/id1071736239?mt=11

Kobo      https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/storm-crazy

Scribd    http://www.scribd.com/book/294539327

Page Foundry   http://www.inktera.com/store/title/62c704b0-4e11-4935-9fe6-c5728d86e89d

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Find me on 

Website http://liviaquinn.com

Email: liviaquinnwrites@gmail.com

Twitter www.twitter.com/liviaquinn 

Facebook www.facebook.com/liviaquinnwrites

Pinterest www.pinterest.com/liviaquinn

Guest Post: An Out of Body Experience by Glenn Maynard. Plus A Blurb and Excerpt From His Paranormal Novel

There’s a reason that I write paranormal romance. I became too fascinated by stories of reincarnation, past-life regression, and out-of-body experiences. I’ll be sitting and minding my own business, and then I’ll happen upon a story like the one that occurred in 1977, when a patient at a medical center, known as Maria, claimed to have had an out-of-body experience.

During her OBE, she claimed to have floated outside her body and outside of the hospital. Maria would later tell her social worker that during the OBE she had observed a tennis shoe on the third floor window ledge to the north side of the building. He went there and could see a tennis shoe on one of the ledges. He published the account in 1985, and the story has been used in many paranormal books as evidence a spirit can leave the body.

When I immerse myself in scenes such as my main character, Carter’s out-of-body experience and ultimate walk through heaven, I closed my eyes and visualized the scenes. I had actually been in a near-fatal car accident when I was 16 years old, and I broke my neck, pelvis, shoulder, ribs, and hand, and suffered third degree burns. I was in and out of a coma for three days and hospitalized for two months. I had a pretty good base for the intensity of the scenes I described. Did I have an out-of-body experience? No. Was I qualified for writing such a scene? I believe so.

The sequel for Desert Son was released January 4, 2016 and it’s entitled, Wayward Soul. This one has even more twists and turns than the first book. I like giving things a new spin, whether it’s my take on how reincarnation works or my walk through heaven. What happens when we die? Where do we go?  What happens when a spirit is caught in-between and what if the spirit is menacing? I’ve got all that covered.

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Blurb for Wayward Soul:

While visiting a psychic, Carter Spence and Brenda Raycroft’s reading turns tragic. The psychic touches them, suffers convulsions, and frantically runs into the street into oncoming traffic. Their fate is sealed in a coma and they must use any means possible to reach the psychic in the spirit world as they dodge deadly complications in an attempt for answers.

They pursue the psychic’s message before she can die and take the answers they need with her. When the spirit of the previous homeowner returns, this haunting soul begins tampering with the comatose psychic.

The sequel to Desert Son takes place four years after Carter and Brenda discover they are a couple reunited beyond the grave. The spirit world becomes intertwined with their own as they attempt to tap into these secrets to uncover disturbing truths about their fate in this paranormal roller coaster that will shake your soul.

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Excerpt for Wayward Soul:

The room was so silent that he could hear Brenda inhaling as he was exhaling. There was a hypnotic ticking of his alarm clock. Carter was concentrating on the duality of their breathing for quite some time. He could feel his mind begin to drift off as if it were leaving his head. He was aware of the ticking of the alarm
clock, but continued to think of Angie. He summoned her aloud, thought about her, and whispered to her. He was fully engaged.

“Charlie?” Carter said. He raised his body and sat up in bed to see his old friend Charlie sitting at the end of his bed looking toward the bedroom door.

Carter was not too certain what was going on, because he had been speaking to Angie and all of the
sudden felt like he had slipped into that world Brenda had spoken about. He progressed from summoning Angie to somehow viewing Charlie sitting on his bed. Carter looked at Charlie, and Charlie slowly turned to look at him. Carter did not know for sure if he was dreaming or if this was part of that other world that Brenda had been telling him about. If it was that world, then why was Charlie here and not Angie. Besides, Charlie was very much alive and renting his house with his fiancée back in Boston. Was it an imposter? Did Angie take the form of Charlie in order to trick Carter? He was convinced it was part of a dream.

Carter continued to look at Charlie. He appeared very different, almost like a shadowy figure that his hand would pass through if he were to try to touch him. At the same time, he looked physical enough, as if it was indeed his friend Charlie sitting on his bed. However, he was not comfortable with attempting to touch him,
and just wanted to see where things went.

He stared at Charlie, before saying, “Hi Charlie.”

Charlie just looked, and did not respond. He had a very blank stare and no smile was even close to forming on his lips. His face looked ashen, and he certainly was not the happy-go-lucky Charlie that he would pal around with all through high school.

“Charlie, what brings you here?”

There was no response.

Carter watched the blank look on Charlie’s face as he finally leaned in to Carter’s ear and whispered, “Keep an eye on the past.”

He moved back to his original position, then back to Carter’s ear again.

“Watch the reflection, and keep an eye on the other one.”

Back to his position he went, before again leaning in for one final whisper, “Find Trevor.”

Carter started to ask Charlie what he meant by all of these random comments, but when he looked up, Charlie evaporated right before his eyes. The last of the physical part of Charlie disintegrated. Carter rubbed his eyes and looked again, but Charlie was no longer there, and Brenda was sleeping away where she was
when Carter began his journey. He thought it odd that he never really took a journey like he expected.

He didn’t go anywhere. Rather, someone other than who he had summoned came to him. It’s not what he wanted, and Charlie was speaking gibberish, but at least Carter returned and remembered everything Charlie had said. He even wrote it all down in a notepad on his nightstand, before he forgot, or before Brenda awoke and dialogue could erase everything Charlie had mentioned, if it even was indeed Charlie at all.
Carter had expected to go on this fantastic journey. Instead, this fantastic journey came to him. That’s the way it appeared, but by the time Brenda awoke and popped her head up, Carter wasn’t totally sure exactly what had happened. It was almost like a dream. It really felt like a dream, but he wasn’t ready to break the
news to Brenda just yet.

“It’s late,” said Brenda. “Do you want to do this tomorrow night?”

“Yeah, tomorrow night will be fine.” Carter lied back down on his pillow, but his eyes were now wide open.

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End Excerpt


Author:  Glenn Maynard.