It’s only now I’ve recalled a pithy little line I included in the special features for The Royal Talisman:

“I have also been accused of an inability to write anything short to save my life.”

Good thing a hanging didn’t depend on the turn of that phrase.  Because I blithely included in the description for the Beloved Bloody Time series this disaster of a sentence:

“The books are short.”

Was it me that really said that?

What was I thinking?   I must have been on catnip at the time.

Anyway, here’s the very good news:  I’m closing in on the finish line for Byzantine Heartbreak, the second book of the series.  I can see the checkered flag from here, and if I can finish up my blog posts for the week fast enough, I might even finish the first draft this weekend.

That’s somewhat iffy, though, as Mark is wrestling here in Edmonton this weekend, so I’m going to be spending the day at the arena, and even though I spend the day with my laptop on my knees, I don’t usually get a lot of writing done.  I do get a lot of talking done, though!

But, back to my sad tale of my inadequacies as an author.

Byzantine Heartbreak was supposed to be short.  A fast, snappy read to match Bannockburn Binding, full of hot love scenes, action, tension and suspense.

Well, it’s got all that and more.  It’s just got a lot more of it than I’d anticipated.  Like…nearly twice as much.

Oops.

But, more good news.  One of the glories of self publishing is that I can take these sorts of snafus in stride.  I wrote a book twice as long as it was planned to be?  No problems.  We’ll just publish a book twice as long!  (‘We’, you understand, being ‘me, myself & I’.)

I imagine the length will shorten down a bit once I edit and tidy up the prose.  But at the moment it’s a plus-sized novel and I’m estimating it will be around the 400 page mark by the time I’m done.   That’s a hefty tome by anyone’s standard.  I think, even with hard pruning, it’s still going to be a long novel.

I’m not going to cut it in half or anything drastic like that just to maintain a series uniformity or, heaven forbid, a market price.  The story needs to take up whatever room it needs to be told well.  I have that freedom now.  So you get a fully developed story and characters, and you don’t get short-changed.

Here’s a snippet.  Warning: frank language ahead!

An Excerpt From: BYZANTINE HEARTBREAK
Copyright © TRACY COOPER-POSEY, 2012
All Rights Reserved

“Why’d’you say that?” Ryan asked.  “He’s a good man.”

“’cause he’s a vamp hater,” Cáel replied.  He shook his head.  “A great man, ‘cept for he’s flawed.”

Ryan was staring at him.  “That’s…he comes off like he’s Henry Kissinger.  How could you know that?”

Cáel shrugged.  “We were lovers for nearly a year.  Then I found out.”  He shuddered and drank.  He reached for the bottle to refill, and realized that Ryan was still staring at him.

“Lovers?  You?” Ryan said.

“Think you’ve got a corner on the market, Irishman?”  Cáel topped up Ryan’s glass.  “Not everyone goes for poetic lilts, you know.”

Ryan half-laughed.  He picked up his drink.  “So…what is this, then?  Are we on a date?”

Cáel’s stomach seemed to drop out from his body with a sickening, electrifying rush.  It had nothing to do with the whiskey.  He let his hand drop away from the glass and looked at Ryan, wishing his heart would quieten.  “Do you want it to be?”

Ryan was sitting motionless in the chair, the forgotten whiskey glass held in mid-air.  His eyes were narrowed, all emotion shielded.  After a moment, he gave a tiny shrug, and his mouth lifted in a little smile.  “You’ve gotta know, Stelios, I haven’t had a lover for centuries.  Not since—“

“Bullshit,” Cáel replied.

Ryan’s eyes widened, losing their guarded expression.  The surprise was quite clear.  He put his glass back on the bar.

Cáel didn’t give him time to pull his defense shield back together.  “You’ve had plenty of liaisons and partners, and a ton of sex, and that’s just in the 23rd century that Lyle Bean could find out about.  Do you want me to actually name names?”

Ryan opened his mouth to speak.

Cáel jumped in again.  “It doesn’t matter, anyway.  Because you’re hiding behind a distinction.  You don’t mind hot sweaty sex with whoever appeals to you whenever you feel like it, but what you really mean when you say you haven’t had a lover in centuries is that you haven’t fallen in love.  You haven’t had a relationship that lasted longer than a week.  You haven’t had the guts to try, and that’s pretty sad, isn’t it?”

Ryan was breathing hard, his eyes narrowed with anger.  But that was natural reaction.  Cáel had just kicked him in the guts.  Now he had to get him past the moment.

Cáel knocked back his drink and put the glass on the bar with a rap.  “Let’s get rid of the tap-dancing, because we both know how to do it too well, and we could talk me into a too-early grave with diplomatic waltzing.”  He took a breath, to steady himself.  “Do I want to fuck you, Ryan?  Yes.”

____________

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2. Working Notes – Byzantine Heartbreak is Underway. Yeah! It’s been a weird week. For a start, it’s been very cold. Like, 35 degrees Celsius below zero cold. That’s negative 31 in Farenheit for...
3. Working Notes – December 12, 2011 I’m one of those writers who doesn’t believe in writer’s block.  I don’t think it exists as an independent condition.  If a writer can’t bring...
4. Working Notes – October 24, 2012: Snippit to Tease You Kate’s body tightened again at the idea that he had spared her a moment’s attention, and she frowned at her own vapidness.  “Sudden business trip?”...
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Constantinople from the Sea of Marmara, with the dome of the world famous Hagia Sophia in the background. It was the largest single domed structure built in the western world at the time. It would be rebuilt twice because of riots and fire.

It’s been a weird week. For a start, it’s been very cold. Like, 35 degrees Celsius below zero cold. That’s negative 31 in Farenheit for all you Imperial-thinking people.

I got Mukluks for Christmas — real authentic ones.  But even at -35, they let the cold in and my feet started to chill up.  I joke at work that I look like an old fashioned babushka:  mukluks, a full length coat, a shawl wrapped around my head, my fur (faux-fur) collar turned up around my ears, and layers and layers of clothes beneath, as I hurry along with my head down.

Only in Canada.

I catch the bus to and from work, so standing around waiting for that bus in the morning is the most miserable thing in the world.  And for some reason, the street where I wait for my bus is always a wind tunnel, even though it’s a perfectly normal suburban neighbourhood street.  Even the slightest breeze at those temperatures is a serious thing.

The location where I catch the bus to come home is just as bad and for some reason, the bus has been late every day this week…except for the two days when I was delayed a few minutes, and then it came early and I missed it, and was forced to wait a horrible 25 minutes on that freezing street for the next (and only) bus to come along.

So it’s been an interesting week.  It takes five minutes sitting on the bus just to get your fingers to unthaw enough to be able to type, let alone get your brain cranked up enough to start writing coherent thoughts.  The cup of double-brewed hot Irish Breakfast tea I take with me in a thermos cup that I get to sip as soon as I sit down is so welcome!

It must be weather-related, too, but the bus has been strangely over-crowded this week.  Every seat full and standing room only, which makes writing a challenge.

Nevertheless, I got all my blog posts caught up, and I started in on Byzantine Heartbreak, the second in the Beloved Blood Time series.  That was my goal for this week, and I’m pleased to say I pulled it off despite the weird challenges.

Here’s a snippet from this week’s scribbles:

An Excerpt From: BYZANTINE HEARTBREAK
Copyright © TRACY COOPER-POSEY, 2012
All Rights Reserved

“What is it?” Ryan nudged gently.

Nayara blinked, her gaze refocusing on him.  “I…it’s…nothing, Ryan.”

“What thought just occurred to you?”

She gave another tiny shrug.  “Nothing.”

Ryan sat his full weight on the window ledge and crossed his arms.  “You’re not really going to try lying to me, are you?”

He watched her hesitate and realized she was weighing up doing exactly that:  lying to him.  Stunned, he wondered what it was she was considering hiding from him.

“Give it up, Nayara.  Now I know you’ve remembered, I’ll dig it out of you with whatever tools I can think to use, if I have to,” he said softly.  “Especially if I think the station is in danger, and you’ve already suggested it might be.”

“No,” she said quickly.  “It’s not.  Not at all.  It’s just the opposite.  I’ve remembered, and it’s stupid.  It’s actually embarrassing.  It’s personal.”  She bit her lip, glanced at him, then her glance skittered away and he saw she really was feeling awkward.

“Since when could you not tell me anything?” he asked.

Her gaze swung back to meet his eyes squarely and she just looked at him.  No coyness.  There was challenge there.

Suddenly, Ryan realized what she would not share.

His gut tightened.  “You like someone,” he said, fighting to keep his expression neutral.

“No, I don’t know if I like them.  I barely know them outside of business,” she said, and Ryan could see that she was picking her words with care.  “Sometimes I find them most irritating.”  She frowned.

“Do you at least want to give me the gender so you don’t have to keep circling around the pronoun?” Ryan asked.

Nayara’s smile was wise.  “So you can build fantasies around me?  Hoping it is a woman, Ryan?”

Hating it’s anyone at all, he thought.  He made himself smile.  “Why not?”

__________________

Related posts:

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3. Working Notes – October 18, 2011 Blood Stone is progressing slowly.  I’m not pushing to get vast wordage down fast on this one, even though I’m usually keen to make progress...
4. Working Notes – October 24, 2012: Snippit to Tease You Kate’s body tightened again at the idea that he had spared her a moment’s attention, and she frowned at her own vapidness.  “Sudden business trip?”...
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Last time around, for working notes, I had skipped over two books, and had to back track.

This time, I don’t have a book to talk about at all, because of another phenomenon of the indie publishing industry:  doing it yourself means actually doing it all yourself.  Everything.  The formatting, uploading, releasing, technical un-hitching, acquiring of ISBN numbers, the lot.

For the last week, since I finished with Lucifer’s Lover, I thought I would be able to dive right back into the second book of the Beloved Bloody Time series (and it is about bloody time, too – I’m dying to get back to it).  Ha!

Hoisted by my own petard, as they say.

Fact is (was…still is, as I write this), I wasn’t quite finished with formatting and creating  and releasing versions of Lucifer’s Lover, and technically difficulties mean that here I am, a week later, still struggling with getting the last two versions out the door.

One of the primary difficulties was simply a matter of time:  I’m also smack dab in the middle of the book tour for Bannockburn Binding, and I have to keep up with that, as well.  And as luck would have it, all my scheduled posts for my blog ran out at the same time.  So, I suddenly had to drop a few higher priorities in order to address a few urgent ones:  posts for this blog, guest posts for the blog tour…I figure you would like to read something interesting when you visit here and there, no?

Then, and only then, could I get back to formatting and uploading the last two versions of Lucifer – namely, Smashwords, and Createspace.  (Createspace is the print version – and feeds the Amazon print page, too.)

So for my “snippet” of my current work today, I thought I would give you a sample of the list of steps I go through to get a book out there, along with some notations.  I don’t always follow every single step, because some books are re-releases, for example, or for some other reason I might leave off steps.  But this is a standard, all-inclusive checklist for self-publishing a book, if you’re not paying for a lot of external processes like editing, formatting, distribution, etc.  I do everything myself but design the cover—but I have magazine editing experience.

First draft:  Write the book.  Pretty obvious, but just finishing a book is a milestone and should always be celebrated.

Final title for book.  A book`s title can change during the writing.  The final title is a marketing decision, weighed up with a careful eye toward reader appeal, with a dozen different criteria guiding the selection, including length, the initial letter of the title, the use or overuse of certain words and more.

Spell check and grammar check draft manuscript, then put book away to freeze.  (Get on with another book) I drift between not-very-good to terrible at following this step.  Oh, I spell check and grammar check the nuts off a script, no problems.  But putting it away and letting it freeze?  Yeah…not so good on that one.  But I do try, because I know how much more of a book’s strengths and weaknesses I will spot if I get just a little more distance from it.

Write blurb  This is a pretty standard duty for authors, but for me, there isn’t an editor or marketing department standing over my shoulder telling me if the blurb works or not.  So I sweat this task out, working and re-working the blurb, comparing it to best-selling books in my genre, tweaking until I think the blurb has the necessary come-hither quality.

Create book page on website and update site for upcoming book, etc. Again, another chore that was always mine.

Complete cover art questionnaire and send to cover designer.  Most authors get to fill in art questionnaires for their publishers, but I’m betting none of them have to provide the designer with printer’s specifications, spine width, trim allowances, bleed information, paper width and variations, the price of the book (which I have to figure out on my own, too), and more technical and graphic specifications of this sort.  I provide all this, along with the hero’s eye colour and the heroine’s full lips and pouty expression…

Read through book as a reader for impressions.  Mark up as necessary.  Here is where leaving the book alone for a while pays off.  I get to read it with relatively fresh eyes, and enjoy the read.  But often, if I haven’t left the book alone long enough, I’m reading and mentally editing as I go.  Still, I try to read like a reader…

Edit carefully.  Then spell check and grammar check.  Round two of the editing/checking/line editing/checking, typo-filtering process.  It’s here that I slide in professional editing or line-editing services if the book warrants it (it’s not a re-release, has never been edited before, or other circumstances).

Create Master manuscript with front and end matter.  It’s here that the publishing process really starts to depart from a normal author’s lot.  All the front and end matter that appears in a book I get to create myself, instead of the publisher doing it for me, because I am the publisher.  And I don’t get to invent it…it all means something.  This is where the acquiring of ISBNs (International Standard Book Numbers) comes into play, one for each version of the book – the Amazon, Smashwords, All Romance eBooks and Createspace version each have to have their own ISBN.  Then each have their own front copyright pages and copyright requirements.  Plus I’m also creating a “pretty” version as an Advanced Reader Copy.

Pour into Createspace template and format for page count.  This gets even more technical.  This is the two-page internal page layout for the print version, complete with bleeds, trim lines, folios (what you, the reader, calls a page number, but the printing industry gives a different name just to fool you), special fonts for the title page, justified text, kerning tweaks, and more.  This file determines how many physical pages will be in the print edition, which drives the price of the print edition, and also the spine width, which the cover designer needs to know to finish the cover.

Upload to Createspace.  The interior of the book gets uploaded to Createspace and waits for the final artwork, so I can hit the “publish” button on the print version and order a proof.

Create Amazon version from Master file and upload to Amazon.  Now I’m into full publication mode.  This task sounds simple enough, but there’s a lot of formatting involved to meet Amazon’s technical specifications, plus I have to resupply the same basic information all over again (Title, author, blurb, price, category, genre, tags, keywords, ISBN, bio).  Usually, each distribution platform wants the cover art formatted to their specific sizing, too, calling for a tweak of the original art files.

Format file for Smashwords and upload.  I admit I tend to procrastinate about Smashwords, because it’s technically the most fussy and difficult to meet the technical requirements.  They’re demanding, although they’re getting better.  Just like Amazon, I end up re-supplying the same basic information, re-shaped to Smashword’s specifications.

Format file for All About Romance and upload.  The fourth distribution outlet, and one of the easiest to deal with (except I usually end up forgetting to rename all my file formats and having to go back and re-do my book page anyway).

Send out requests for review and/or blog tour.  If the book is an Author Edition, or a re-release, I don’t do a blog tour.  If it has a huge number of glowing reviews already (like Lucifer’s Lover), I don’t even bother with the review requests.  Asking for reviews is a semi-new task for me.  Ellora’s Cave used to send out all their titles to a pre-set list of review sites, saving me the bother, until I built a list of other review sites that I liked and approached on my own.  Now, as an indie author, I have to find sites that will deal with indie published romances at all, and then do my own asking.

Update my site.  The book is officially released now, so there’s a ton of changes that have to be made on my website to reflect that fact.  Links, cover art, book page updates, widgets in sidebars, and more.  I also upload a copy of the book’s cover into my Facebook page.

Blog post about the release.  And then, finally, after all that, I get to tell you about the release.  Talk about the tip of the iceberg, huh?

___________________

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I don’t think I’ve ever hidden the fact that I write posts ahead of time and schedule them to appear here on the appointed day.  Most bloggers do this.   It’s a survival mechanism:  We’d all be in straight-jackets by week four if we had to manually post each and every post on the appointed day and time.  Life is too complicated and we all usually have other lives as well as our demanding blogs.

But this habit of posting ahead of time put me into a sort of leap-frog position, and I may even have leapt clear over two whole lillypads, too.

Me relaxing at ringside before the show. Taken five minutes after I wrote this post.

TV crew's equipment and scaffolding.

In these working notes, I like to talk about the current book I’m working on.  Right now as I type this note, I’m sitting in the Edmonton wrestling arena while the Monster Pro Wrestling crew are setting up for tonight’s show (which is in the past as you read this).  And right at this moment in time, I’m smack in the middle of formatting and uploading Lucifer’s Lover and releasing onto an unsuspecting public:  You.

Last minute training for some of the MPW wrestlers

Tomorrow, Mark goes on the road for a wrestling show in Moose Jaw.  The adage in our household is “While the wrestler’s away, the writer writes,” so there’s a pretty good chance I’ll get all the formatting completed.  (Except my daughter, who moved out of the house a week or so ago, invited me to go with her to see the second Sherlock Holmes movie, and you know me and Sherlock Holmes, so…)

Mark and his heel buddies, during the live show.

I already have the cover for Lucifer.  It arrived this afternoon, and I got it on my cellphone…it’s gorgeous, divine and I’m over the moon.  I can’t wait to reach a wi-fi network so I can tell Dar Albert how much in love I am with the cover.

And that’s my problem.

I’ve got short odds on getting Lucifer finished tomorrow.

In between this Working Notes post and the last one, I also finished and released The Royal Talisman.

There’s my two lillypads.  There’s the two books you missed out on.  Because if what I’m predicting comes true, then by the time you read this, then what I’ll be working on will in fact be Byzantine Heartbreak, the second book in the Beloved Bloody Time series.

But let’s pretend I’m still working on Lucifer’s Lover and that it hasn’t been officially released yet, and you’re not staring at the lush cover to the right there in the column.

Because I know just the snippet I want to tease you with today:

____

Lucifer's Lover by Tracy

An Excerpt From: LUCIFER’S LOVER
Copyright © TRACY COOPER-POSEY, 2012
All Rights Reserved.

She was still trembling when she got behind the wheel of the car to drive home but it was a heady mix of elation and relief, not the undiluted fear she had been feeling before. She tried to push the key home twice and failed.

Luke’s hand rested on hers a moment. “I’ll drive,” he said. “You relax and recover.”

No one had ever driven her car before except her but she silently climbed out and moved around to the passenger side, handing Luke the keys as they passed in front of the hood.

The drive to Luke’s place was silent and in the silence and the warmth from the car’s heater, she felt her body relax, her mind quiet and her nerves go off-line. By the time he halted the car in front of his apartment block, she was actually sleepy, tiredness gnawing at her.

“It’s nice,” she said, as he turned the engine off.

“What is?”

“You know how to be silent. And when. I didn’t realize that until tonight. You always seemed to be running off at the mouth whenever I saw you before.”

“Thanks. I think.” He handed her the keys. “It’s nerves,” he added.

“What is?”

“When I run off at the mouth.”

“You? Nervous?”

He shrugged. “As unlikely as it sounds.” He went to get out and paused, his hand on the door handle. “Is it true, about your father?”

“You mean the rocket scientist bit?”

He smiled. “Yes.”

“It’s true. He’s retired now. He makes furniture for charities.”

“That’s quite a change.”

“According to my father, building and creating things is more profound than physics, which merely describes the things he builds. I believe him. He gets very involved with his projects.”

He opened the door and Lindsay shivered at the cold rush of air. She opened her own door and went around to the driver’s side. Luke was already a few paces away, preparing to leave.

“Well…” he said. “It’s been an interesting date.”

“I’m glad you got your money’s worth.”

He put his hands in his coat pocket. “I don’t think I’m the only one who did that,” he said, his breath fogging the air.

True.

The impulse struck her suddenly, without warning. She crossed the crisp snow to stand in front of him and reached up to grasp his lapels. She felt him pull his hands out of his pockets and thought for a moment he was going to push her away but he laid them on top of hers. His eyes were completely black in the light.

She tugged a little, trying to pull herself up and him down.

“You don’t have to do this,” he said.

“I know.”

“It wasn’t a real date. Not in the proper sense. I tricked you into it. You know that.”

“I know.” She pulled a little harder.

“Just so we’re perfectly clear on this. This isn’t part of the fake date thing, is it? Or is it some sort of thank you?”

“No.”

“It’s just that I wouldn’t want to take it the wrong way. That could lead to all sorts of ugly complications—”

“Luke, you’re running off at the mouth again.”

“God, yes,” he said, his voice low.

She pulled again and this time he let her. She kissed him, exploring his taste, the shape of his mouth, the novelty of the kiss. Then, from an unknown quarter, an intense, heavy, sweet wave of pleasure spilled through her and all the intellectual curiosity about the kiss washed away beneath it. She was drawn into it, coherent thought scattered to the four winds.

She lost sense of time. When the kiss ended, it was very much like she was reviving from a drug-induced haze. Her lips were swollen and her whole body throbbed with unfulfilled tension. Luke’s arms were around her, holding her up, lifting her to his lips.

She held her breath for a second, then pushed it out with a heavy sigh.

“What happened?” she asked.

“You kissed me.”

“Is that what it was?”

“I think so.”

She licked her swollen lips, tasting his lingering flavor just a little. Sense was beginning to return. “I have to go.”

He nodded. His hands cupped her face and his fingers smoothed their way down her cheek, caressing it. His eyes were very dark. Unrevealing.

“We’ll freeze,” she said.

“I’m not cold.”

Neither am I, she thought.

She stepped back. His hands reluctantly dropped from her face.

“’Night.”

“Yes.”

She climbed back into the car and tried to fit the key back into the slot and failed again. Her hands felt big, clumsy and heavy. She concentrated and slid the key in and started the car.

Luke was still standing there and watched her leave.

Now what? she wondered, exploring her lips with her fingertips as she drove.

The kiss changed everything.

_______________

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3. Working Notes – My Life, December 12 I originally had this post scheduled for much earlier — mid-November, actually.  But my writing brain suddenly unlocked itself and words gushed out, and I...
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When it comes time to write these posts, my habit is to open up my reading software on my cellphone — Kindle, the ePub reader, Acrobat, etc — and find what it was that I’ve been reading lately, and report on that.

Which puts me in an interesting position this month.

First up, I’ve been working my way through Time to Write, a how-to by Kelly L. Stone, which is really a compilation of time saving tips from other authors.  I’m  always interested in learning how to write faster, or find more time for writing, so this book was of interest.  So far, I’ve learned nothing new.  I’m hopeful, though…

____

I have been reading one book book — a print book. Fast Fit by Sandra Betzina, a sewing classic.  (My other obsession – one I don’t get nearly enough time for.)  If there is a reason print books will hang around, it’s because of books like this one, which wouldn’t translate well to ebook with the state of current technology.  I could only read this on a big screen tablet, in PDF, right now.  It’s super graphics heavy.

But the book IS making me wish I could offload some of my writing time and get back to the sewing machine.  I don’t have any upcoming reader conventions to give me that excuse anymore…

_________

And my confession is also the third book I found open on my cellphone.

I gave a copy of Fatal Wild Child to a co-worker for Christmas, and she started reading it before the holiday break.  One morning she came steaming into work and confronted me at my desk, her hands on her hips, accusing me of ruining her sleep the previous night.

“I just got to the part where they’re in the room for the night.  All that incredible tension in the restaurant and then she goes and does…that!”  She shook her head.  “And now I have to wait until my lunchbreak to find out what happens next!”

I blinked a few times in surprise.  I was pleased, of course.  What writer wouldn’t be?  The news that I had deprived someone of sleep because of my writing is very hard to take.

What surprised me was the bit-that-came-next, after the restaurant.  I had forgotten about that bit of that scene.  During that day I kept trying to rememer the sequence of events and scenes in the book.  I think you can guess what happened next.  I gave up and loaded the book onto my cellphone and read it, to remind myself of the details of the story.

Yes, I do read my own stories every now and again.  But I like to read them when they’re so cold they’re frozen:  When I don’t remember who said what, and what comes next.  Oh, I always remember the big sweeping movements of the story, but not the little things.  The small moments.  Bits of dialogue.  Pulse pause moments I managed to squeeze in.   When it’s been long enough for me to forget those things, then I stand a chance of being at least a little bit surprised and pleased, just like any other reader.

Reading Fatal Wild Child was a nice escape for a couple of hours, and a refresher.  I had, indeed, forgotten some of the moments I’d got in there.

____________________________

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3. What I’m Reading – October 7, 2011 I think the last time I shared what I was reading, I’d just got my new cellphone and was finally revelling in the joys of...
4. What I’m Reading – July 2 I finally got a new cellphone. Deep sigh of relief. It’s an Android phone — the new Samsung HD 4G Galaxy S.  I chose it...
5. What I’m Reading – December 5 Even when I was in hospital, I didn’t get huge amounts of time to read — shocking, I know.  Mark smuggled my laptop into isolation,...

Well, I didn’t smash any land-speed records, or break any vital bones, but this Christmas was remarkable because it wasn’t remarkable.  Peace reigned in our household, there was no stress about dinner, and a good time was had by all.

Oh, and I got one present I craved:  The complete archived set of 158 issues of Threads.  That takes it back to the late 1980′s, and some of the fashions back then…hmmm.  Check this one out (right).  The big hair, the even bigger sleeves, the bowtie shirt and velvet gathered skirt.  All very structured and not a knit or stretch fabric in sight.

I also got a present I didn’t even know I craved:  Tickets to the Roger Waters The Wall concert.  I went to the Pink Floyd The Wall concert in Perth, Western Australia, back in the nineties, when the actual wall came down (the Berlin Wall), so this will be a sentimental reunion for me — especially as I’m going with my son, who gave me my beloved Wall belt buckle, and the tickets, too.

Just being able to relax for five days is sheer joy!  I’m madly writing blog posts and catching up on writing fiction, too.  Stay tuned.  Good things in store.

So what about you?  What did you get?  What you wanted?  Lots of books?  A reader?  Tell!

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My best wishes to everyone who celebrated Christmas Day yesterday, and for everyone who got the day off from work, I hope you made the best of it.

Of course, I’m writing this somewhere in the past, so I’m not sure yet if I made a very good day of it or not, but I intend to!  My 2010 Christmas was a personal low, so I have every intention of making up for it with a bang this year.  If I manage to pull it off with a superlative highlight or two I may pop back into this post with pictorial evidence.

Working notes…

In one sense, I’m not working at all.  Not at the day job.  For the first time in – wow, three years! – I actually get to have a break at Christmas, instead of just (maybe) getting Christmas day off, then heading right back into the trenches.  This year I get a whole precious five days off.  Even Mark’s two whole weeks off doesn’t bother me.  Five days…

That means, of course, I’ll be writing my ass off.  So I’ll be working at the real job just as hard as my family will let me get away with it.  (Or as hard as any really good Christmas present don’t distract me from the latest book.)

The latest book, of course, is Byzantine Heartbreak.  You haven’t been introduced to this one yet.  It’s the second in the Beloved Bloody Time series (Bannockburn Binding, which has just been released, was the first).

I’ve been working on Heartbreak in between buying Christmas presents, making Christmas presents, wrapping Christmas presents and working.  One day, I must tell you a few of my adventures, writing on the bus to and from work.  Very interesting.  In fact I’m writing this on the bus right now, and the guy next to me is trying very hard to pretend he’s not reading my screen…ooops, he just got off!  That taught him… [wicked grin]

For now, here’s the blurb and a short excerpt from Byzantine Heartbreak.

Enjoy the rest of your holiday break, if you’re lucky enough to get one.  If you’re working, may your tips be stupendous.

__________

Nyarra Ybarra is one of the most powerful vampires alive in the 23rd century.  Ryan Deasmhumhain is the other.  Ryan and Nyarra, former lovers, head the Chronometric Conservation Agency, welded together yet held apart by grief that won’t heal, their lives on hold. 

Cáel Stelios is intrigued by the pair, but despite being politically powerful, rich, smart and sexually potent, Stelios has a overwhelming disadvantage:  He’s human.  “No” is not a word he accepts without a fight, however. 

The psi-filers and Gabriel have plans, though, that will make fighting very real and bloody indeed…

__

Stelios opened the drawer of his desk and pulled out his reading board and threw it at Christos, who caught it one-handed.  “The top document…book, I suppose.  I had it commissioned several weeks ago and it was delivered last week.  I’ve read it.  It took me all week.”

Christos turned the board on and thumbed his way through the book.  “There’s…fuck, there’s thousands of pages here!”  He looked up at Stelios.  “Did you sleep at all?”

“Not much.  What I was reading gave me nightmares anyway.”  Stelios grimaced and sat on the edge of his desk.

Christos frowned as he flipped through more of the book.  “Why’n hell would you want to read something like this?” he asked.

“I have to work with them,” Stelios said simply.  “I wanted to know them better and they weren’t about to tell me themselves.”

Christos snorted.  “You don’t have a few years to spare for the telling, human.”

Stelios turned and poured himself an ouzo on ice from the supplies in the refrigerated cupboard.  He held up the bottle.  “I’d offer you one, Spartan, but…”

Christos tilted his head.  “I’m not sure I’d take one from you, anyway.  Not yet.”

Stelios tossed back the shot and poured again.  “You know them.  Better than perhaps anyone else in the world.”

“No one knows that pair well.”  Christos placed the board back on the desk gently.  “This research is just dates, facts.  Timelines.”

“Exactly,” Stelios said.  “It’s probably the first time those dates have ever been pulled together, but it’s still just resumes.”  He sat on his desk again.  “Ryan Deasmhumhain and Nayara Ybarra are both over two thousand years old.  Together they run the most powerful vampire organization in the world.  And nobody knows anything about them.  You’re the closest to an expert on them.”

“I’m not an expert.”  Christos crossed his arms over his great chest.  “I’m a friend.  And this friend is wondering why you’re so damned curious about them.”

Stelios put his hand on the reading board.  “I’ve been working with them for weeks, Brendan.  I can’t figure them out.  And I can’t get anywhere with them if I can’t figure them.  We’re going to be working together more in the future.  I need to know what makes them tick.”

“You do, huh?”  Christos grinned.  “You’re a lying sack of Greek shit, Stelios.”

Stelios drained his glass.  “Am I?”

Christos jerked his thumb over his shoulder.  “I’m not one of your voters, Assemblyman.  I don’t get a vote, remember?  I’m not allowed to vote, because I’ve been around long enough to know you’re laying it on thick enough to choke a lamb to death.”  He pointed to the board.  “You’ve read that and you’ve been locked up in the station with Ryan and Nayara for days on end.  You’re a smart man.  You’ve already got more than half a picture about them by now.  I know that because Ryan hasn’t gelded you, they haven’t drawn your blood and Nayara hasn’t tossed you out of the nearest airlocked.  So you’ve figured them out enough to get along with them in all that time.  So what do you really want?”

Stelios felt the sudden urge for another drink.  He cleared his throat and moved around the desk, back to the chilled cabinet.

Christos made a breathy sound behind him.  Then:  “No…!  Tell me you don’t really hold some sort of…”  Then he heard Christos laugh, low and long.

Stelios busied himself pouring the drink.  By the time the drink was ready, his face was under control and Christos was silent once more.  Stelios returned to the desk, staying on this side of it.  He looked Christos in the eye.

Christos had the grace to not laugh again.  But he was smiling.  “Man, you aim high,” he said simply.  “Which one?”

“Does it matter?” Stelios asked, glad to hear his voice emerge evenly.

Christos considered and shook his head.  “In the end, no.  You’ll never get either of them.  They’re welded together, those two.”

“They’re not together romantically.  Not any more,” Stelios pointed out.

“Not since Salathiel died,” Christos agreed.  He stepped up to the other side of the desk.  “Got another one of those in that bottle?” he asked, indicating Stelios’ drink.

Surprised, Stelios nodded.  He turned and poured another drink into a fresh glass, added ice and pushed it over the desk toward the Spartan.  Christos lifted it and sniffed appreciatively.  The glass looked dimunitive in his big hand.  “Aahh.  Brings back memories,” he growled.  He looked Stelios in the eye.  “Now we have the measure of each other, human.  I know what you want.”

“What do I want?” Stelios asked curiously.

“You want the key to unlocking them.”

____

So…like it?  All feedback and opinions are useful and helpful!

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So Mark hits me with the news that he had to pick up some wrestler from the airport at the crack of dawn on Saturday, and because they’re not heading to Red Deer for the evening’s show until noon (Red Deer is only a couple of hours south of here), said wrestler would have to come and park at our place for a few hours.

Mark had the grace to ask if I minded, although he did tack the question on at the very end.

I shrugged and said I had no intentions of entertaining the man.  Mark could do all the talking and distracting.  The two of them could talk shop for four hours and I could get on with my writing schedule in blissful peace.

Then Mark dropped the other shoe.  “Um…he’s Australian.  From Byron Bay.”

Which made this wrestler a mate from the olde sod, but from the wrong bloody side.  Byron Bay is in New South Wales.  Oh well, we can’t all be perfect.

I sniffed and said I thought I might be able to spare a moment or two to say hello.

Scott Justice, I found out, is really young.  As in (god, I can’t even believe I’m saying this out loud and in public) around the same age as my oldest son.  I was frantically washing dishes when he walked in, and my first impression was oh my god, I’ve just seen my first surfing dude since I left high school.  Bleach blonde hair, tan, and white teeth.  And charm.  Lots and lots of Australian charm.

Australians have this cultural bias towards heading overseas to travel and see the world as soon as they’re old enough for their own passport.  It’s hardwired into the brain because we imbibe so much foreign television, movies, books, magazines and more.  We think globally in a way that most countries just don’t.  Australians travel compulsively and often.  But they nearly always come home.  The idea of upping stakes and moving to a different continent just to break into a career choice is something we might consider, but few would actually follow through on — especially guys in their early twenties, like Scott.  But that’s what Scott did.

He moved to Canada on a working visa just to break into professional wrestling.  He had no friends and few contacts when he moved here.  His one ambition was to move closer to the heart of professional wrestling to try to break in.  He’s been in Canada for a couple of years, and he’s making waves in the professional wrestling scene.

But that’s not what prompted this post.

I offered him breakfast, and he asked hopefully if I had any Vegemite.  We didn’t, but we knew where to get some, so Mark took him to our local Save-on-Foods and bought him a couple of jars of (very expensive imported) Vegemite, and he tucked into toast and Vegemite for a late breakfast.

But the really interesting thing about Scott is what I found out later.

He must have been suffering from the lingering effects of concussion from an earlier match, because throughout the day, he kept vomiting.  Right up until showtime in Red Deer, he was sick to his stomach, and spent most of the time lying down and queasy.  Now, a lot of guys, even professional wrestlers, would have bailed on the match.  Mark watched Scott, though, three minutes before his entrance get up from where he was lying, shake it off, square his shoulders, and head out to pull off a wrestling match every bit as good as any other wrestler out there than night.

There wasn’t a murmur of complaint from him the entire day.  He met his commitment to the booker and delivered.

Wow.

Professionalism is one thing.  This was on another plane entirely.  Call it true grit, sheer bloody stubbornness, insanity, or the courage of youth…but it’s the sort of strength that makes the difference between good and great.

It’ll be interesting to see where Scott ends up in the next few years.

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I originally had this post scheduled for much earlier — mid-November, actually.  But my writing brain suddenly unlocked itself and words gushed out, and I finished an entire book in fifteen days and had an abrupt need to advise you about this new series I’d started, and start doing things like building book pages and series profiles…

So here’s the post that was supposed to have been…

______

Being married to a professional wrestler means life has many “interesting” moments.  Our kids grew up with a romance author mother and a professional wrestler father, which meant their status in high school was different, when every kid was trying desperately to blend in.  I think they’re still trying to figure out if our weird careers were a positive influence on them or not.  They’ve certainly turned into very independant-minded young adults.

But Mark — also known around the Canadian professional wrestling circuits as “Mr. Intensity,” continues to provide me with pulse pausing moments on a regular basis.  There have been a few just this last month gone by, which prompted this post.

You’d think it would be kinda fun being married to a public figure and professional sports entertainer, and it does have its moments.  Mark has appeared in rock videos, at rock festivals, and I used to love taking him to romance conventions. :)

He’s currently the Heavy Weight Champion of Monster Pro Wrestling (the belt weights a freaking tonne, too!) and tours all over Canada, wrestling in matches across the country.

Whenever he’s appearing in Edmonton, I go and watch the live show — not because I like wrestling.  I was never a fan, but I’ve learned a great deal about the industry from Mark over the years, and I can deconstruct a match and critique a show and appreciate a good performance, these days.  Plus, I have formed many friendships with wrestlers and industry insiders, too.  So going to Edmonton shows means I can catch up with friends at the post-show gatherings.

There is a downside, of course.

The wrestling profession has a 100% injury rate.  Wrestlers are guaranteed to be injured somewhere, sometime during their careers.  Often more than once, and at least one injury will be serious.  Most wrestlers hope their injuries will be light, temporary and non-disabling.  Mark has already cracked ribs, he has a nagging problem with his neck, and his elbow constantly bothers him.  Bruises, cuts and scrapes are par for the course.

There is more than one pro wrestler who has completely wrecked his body in the name of entertainment.  Because of this fact, health insurance is impossible.  There is only one company in the world that will insure a wrestler:  Llloyds of London.  Their premiums, of course, are astronomical.  Well beyond the reach of any average wrestler.

Mark spends a lot of time on the road, away from home, driving to remote areas of the country for match bookings and shows.  These are usually three or four day trips.  As we only have one car in our household, I have no transport while he’s away.  In the middle of winter, it can be a trying time.

Most especially, the hardest part of being married to a professional wrestler is watching the matches.  Yes, wrestling is entertainment, and the matches are arranged for maximum impact on the audience, but those throws and holds aren’t faked.  They’re hitting the mat for real.  And injuries are real, too.  If a wrestler is doing his job properly, then you have no idea if he’s really hurt, or just selling it well and Mark is a damned good wrestler.

So I have to sit there and watch Mark and the good guy beat the crap out of each other, completely in the dark about what’s going to happen next, whether he’s really injured or not, and how much he’s really hurting.  And then there’s matches like the one last week, where there’s blood and pain.

I was lucky — because I was just out of hospital I didn’t get to see this match live.  I couldn’t go to the arena.

I just got to see the photos.

Yep, being married to a professional wrestler makes life very interesting indeed.

____________________

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Even when I was in hospital, I didn’t get huge amounts of time to read — shocking, I know.  Mark smuggled my laptop into isolation, and saved me from going insane.  I wrote blog posts and my latest book instead of reading.

But there were times when I simply too tired to do either, and I did read to pass the time.  Being locked up in a 12 x 12 room by yourself means you’ll do anything to keep from being bored, even when you have the energy of a slug.

So I got a few books read, and I have a few more lined up inside my various readers, because I spent quite a bit of time browsing the on-line bookstores when the nurses weren’t looking.

Silken Threads by Patricia Ryan is possibly the first non-erotic long historical romance I’ve read and finished in about five years.  And it was a near-thing, too.  I was close to putting it aside around the second chapter or so because it looked like it was shaping up to be a typical poor abused heroine/big misunderstanding plot.  But it veered off that well-beaten path and I kept reading.

Although the “sexy” moniker on the cover is probably stretching it, the book was entertaining enough to hold my attention for its full length.  That’s quite an achievement these days, as my internal writer/editor is usually screaming in agony with many books, forcing me to abandon them because they’re not how I would have written/edited them.

While I was completing my annual walk through The Lord Of The Rings on DVD, I also picked up the e-book version of another fabulous epic:  Gone With The Wind.

It’s been many, many years since I watched or read Gone With The Wind, but as I had time on my hands, and as trekking through epics seemed to be a theme at the moment, and there was a reasonably priced e-book version available, I jumped at the opportunity.

I quite like the movie version, but you really have to read Gone With The Wind to fully appreciate why such a fuss was made of it when it was first published.  Yes, it’s incredibly long.  But the detail in the story is mind-boggling.  Mitchell did her homework when it came to the war and living conditions in the south.

And then there’s the (sort of) romance.  Rhett Butler is the epitome of the alpha romance hero.  Dashing, enigmatic, physical, and endlessly playing mind games with Scarlett because he wants her — but on his terms.

Scarlett though…

Scarlett is a fascinating character, but not as a romance heroine in today’s terms.  She almost fits into the Too-Stupid-Too-Live category, and at times, her blindness over Rhett’s feelings just drives you crazy with frustration.  Her relentless self-absorption and self-centredness, despite the incredibly harsh lessons life keeps handing out over and over again, are a little unrealistic.  Any real person would adapt and change.  Even characters in books change over the course of the novel.  But not Scarlett.  She keeps on keeping on…hanging onto her teenage crush over Ashley, blinkered to the real world and anyone else’s feelings but her own.  She utterly lacks change — except toward the end of the novel there are some incremental adjustments to her thinking and responses (finally!) to the wholesale evolution of the world around her.  These tiny compromises are enough for her to realize she loves Rhett, but too late to keep him.

It’s Scarlett’s one dimensional character that makes Gone With The Wind such a chore to read.  Everything else about the novel is fabulous.

I do wish I had her waist dimensions, though!

______________________

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