Meankitty Wants to Know: Julia Knight and Frek the Dog

Once again, to demonstrate my superior egalitarian nature, I have allowed both author Julia Knight and her canine to answer my interview questions. The canine, Frek, or Freckles for short, does seem to have somewhat proper respect for his feline betters!

***

1) Why did you decide to be a writer instead of a cat sanctuary owner?

1 - I do both! All my animals ( currently two cats, one dog) are rescued. I did have another cat who thought he was both human, and my boyfriend. Sadly he died he though he was superior to cars and tried to attack one. It didn't work out so well.

2) Why do you think cats are better than dogs? (Since you call yourself a writer, I trust your answer will be eloquent.)

2 - Cats don't need to be walked even if it's raining cats and dogs. I appreciate that about them. Sadly the dog needs walking even if it means frostbite.

3) Tell me about the felines in your fiction. How often do they appear and how big a part do they play in your narratives?

3 - While I don't have strictly felines, I do have a race of beings that are somewhat like cat-people. They have the same eyes, and even tails. They are obviously superior to everyone else, and dislike anyone who isn't as perfect as they are. Which is everyone.

4) On the off-chance you have yet to incorporate cats into your fiction, when do you plan to rectify this egregious error and demonstration of poor writing skills?

4 - As above. Though I'm currently working on an erotic pirate novel and I'm not sure quite how well feline / human interaction would work in that context….Though one of the ships is called the Black Cat, if that helps.

5) What are your favorite works of fiction involving cats or favorite fictional cats?

5 - Greebo! He does just whatever he likes, including scaring anything upto and including angry she-bears :D

6) Do you have any amazing, or at least humorous, real life cat stories you'd like to share?

6 - Oh yes, indeed. I came home one day to find feathers all over my front room. No sign of an injured or dead bird though. Several hours later I noticed my two cats were taking an unusual interest in what was behind the TV. I took a peek, and what do you think I found? A chicken. A slightly battered but alive chicken. How they got it through the catflap I'll never know…. One of my cats likes to attack dogs too - I'm sure Meankitty will like that!

7) Multiple choice 1. What is your preference and why?
A) Long hair
B) Short hair
C) No hair
-- Note: I am not, of course, referring to the hirsute qualities of your most recent hero or heroine.

7 - B - Short hair. Less vaccuuming, but still fluffy!

8) Multiple choice 2. You have a writing deadline but the cat who rules you wants some attention. Desperately. Do you:

A) Lock the cat in another room and keep working?
B) Pet the cat for a couple minutes and then toss her cruelly aside?
C) Pet the cat as long as she wants because you know it will inspire and refresh you? -- Note: If you answered anything besides C, we suggest you consider the fact you could have written a much better book if you had been inspired and refreshed instead of mean to the cat.

8 - c - My cats are quite good at falling alseep on my desk. Good for keeping my hands warm on cold nights. One of them also likes to chase the mouse pointer around the screen so I can work and keep him amused at the same time.

User submitted:

How goes the discussion about discipline in your house?

Discipline, well the cats have none! The dog does what everyone else tells him - including what the cats tell him. He knows his place.

What one thing would you change about your pet?

I would stop one of the cats whose primary objective in life is to steal my wine! If I don't keep an eye on the glass he'll stick his head right in, drink it then wobble off for a nice snooze.

Can you type with a cat stretched out across your wrists? If not, why not? Otherwise, how's the carpal tunnel?

My cat prefers to sleep on the desk which I can cope with - or my lap. Sadly I have yet to learn to ignore the needle sharp claws paddling into my thigh which means I get a lot of typos

When you're in the zone with your writing, what does your pet have to do to get your attention?

He steals my wine!

***

1) So, your human writes books. Are they (a) full of praise and hyped up lies about dogs; or (b) do they contain interesting stories?
If A, interview is over. If B, you may continue.

1 - I don't think she has any dogs in her stories, so they must be interesting? It makes me feel quite jealous.

2) If writers are supposed to be so smart, why does your writer have a dog instead of a cat when it's common knowledge cats are better? Does that mean your writer isn't very smart?

2 - I think my owner bought me as a toy for the cats. They love to taunt me by sleeping on the sofa ( which I'm not allowed to do) or climbing on the kitchen worktops to steal food and look at me smugly. If I complain I get a face full of claws. They never actually play with me though.

3) So why did your human end up a writer instead of a animal sanctuary owner or something like that?

3 - The trouble she has with these cats, I think two is enough! Plus her thighs can't take any more of the clawing. So she has to write instead. It's quite sad really.

4) Does being a writer mean your human is home all day and easy to access? What is her day like?

4 - She works out of the house in the mornings, but I see her for the rest of the day. She writes until the kids come home from school. Then we play in the park or go to the local forest. Once the kids are in bed she writes some more. I like to sleep on her feet while she writes.

5) As a dog, you're probably not devious or fascinating, but on the off-chance you do have feline traits, what are your techniques for distracting your human during crucial writing moments?

5 - I do have one cunning way to distract her from writing. I sit and stare at the back of her head for ages. The slightest hint that she's going to get up, such as the chair wheels back half a milimeter, and then I bark as loud as I can, right by her ear if I can manage it. She loves it!

6) What indignities and neglect have you suffered because of your human's writing career?

6 - She leaves the cats to 'look after me' which usually involves them stealing food and trying to blame it on me, or the face full of claws routine. I know my place - at the bottom!

7) We've established your human doesn't write stories full of hyped up lies about dogs. Tell me about the felines in your human's fiction. How often do they appear and how big a part do they play?

7 - The cat-like people play a reasonably large role in her first book, Ilfayne's Bane. In fact the heroine, Hilde, is half one herself, so you could say that they are quite a focus there. The relationship between the cat-people and Ilfayne is very strained though - they regard him as too rash and impetuous, too doglike

8) When your human gets together with other writers, do they spend half their time sniffing each other's butts like dogs do?

8 - I don't think so, I can't think why. There do seem to be a lot of glasses smelling of grape when they've finished though.

9) What is your human's next project (bonus points if you answer: getting a cat)?

9 - She has mentioned getting another cat as it happens. But writing wise, a sequel to Ilfayne's Bane is finished and she's working on something to do with pirates. She says she can't put any animals in it because that would be squicky.

***

Sincerely,
Meankitty
http://www.meankitty.com/ * http://www.jodywallace.com/

Snippet Saturday: Beginnings

Snippet Saturday is the brainchild of author Lauren Dane, wherein a group of authors selects thematic excerpts from their work and shares them on Saturday mornings. This Saturday's snippet is introductions. Here's the first couple paragraphs of my short story "Dunvegas: Alien Attack!". The entire PDF of Dunvegas stories, which includes stories by a number of Samhain Publishing's authors, can be had for FREE at http://carolanivey.com/dunvegas/

***

“If I were an alien who’d escaped Area 51, where would I go?” Miranda Mellons raised the binoculars to her sweaty face and inspected the military base from atop Tikaboo Peak, the closest legal vantage point to the Groom Lake facility. All she could see was a cluster of white warehouses encircled by the thin, tan lines of desert roads. Nothing else but twenty-six miles of sand, bushes, and mountain ranges. No signs of life, much less the military masses searching for alien life.

But there’d been no mistaking the signal she’d picked up with her dad’s old radio less than twenty-four hours ago. Her father, an ex-military survivalist, had taught her well, and she knew what the coded message meant.

Loose foo.

An alien had escaped.

It was the day they’d all been waiting for. She was determined to be the one to locate the ET, to prove herself to the other Dream Team members who humored her out of respect for her father’s memory.

She had to decide on a plan of action. Others might be hiking up Tikaboo even now, at least the ones spry enough to handle the terrain. She’d beaten them here because she’d neglected to relay the message until she’d been en route. Hey, they’d pawned off the shit Nevada outpost job on her while they handled the exciting aspects of extraterrestrial hunting—anything besides monitoring a radio. She should benefit at least a little. After all, it was her father who’d started the Dream Team, a faction of ET hunters and conspiracy theorists that had spanned the globe since before the Internet.

They’d all thought Area 51 was a dead zone. No way would the government hide anything or anyone here since it was so well known.

They’d been wrong.

What to do, what to do. Miranda buzzed with excitement, and also the several energy drinks she’d consumed on the trip. The others had more contacts than she did, more resources. But she had two things they didn’t have—the first and most relevant being proximity.

Not that it was doing her any good. She didn’t see anything unusual. Didn’t smell anything. Didn’t hear anything. She’d been up Tikaboo enough to know what was usual, too.

Her second ace in the hole hadn’t helped yet, either—her souped-up gamma wave scanner. The others had scanners, but not like hers. She didn’t plan to tell them about the modifications until she confirmed they worked. Unfortunately, the main unit was too heavy to carry up the mountain, and she hadn’t detected anything on the handheld.

Hell, if she were an alien who’d escaped Area 51, the first thing she’d do would be blow the place. Barring that, she’d hightail it as fast as she could towards the closest human establishment where she could blend in. Might that be Rachel? No way. Only 100 people lived there and half of them were crazy. Alamo? Nope, still too small.

Well, of course. By hook, teleportation, pick-up truck or crook, the alien would head for Las Vegas. Let the other Dreamers scour the desert around the ET Highway. Miranda was going straight to Sin City to extend the hand of human friendship to their stellar kin.

***

More grand beginnings:

Beth Williamson
Cynthia Eden
Elisabeth Naughton
Eliza Gayle
Jaci Burton
Jody Wallace
Kelly Maher
Lacey Savage
Lauren Dane
Marissa Scott
McKenna Jeffries
Michelle Pillow
Moira Rogers
Sasha White
Shelley Munro
Sylvia Day
Taige Crenshaw
TJ Michaels
Victoria Janssen
Vivian Arend

Jody Wallace
http://www.jodywallace.com/ * http://www.meankitty.com/

June 23 Gallery Updates

I know you want to see what this is all about:

Find new cats in Meankitty's Gallery here: www.meankitty.com

Sincerely,

MK and Typing Slave

Meankitty Wants to Know: Java and Meg Benjamin

Author Meg Benjamin, who writes for Samhain, is owned by a very lovely and shiny cat by the name of Java. We must all write suggestions for Java in the comments re: getting more than 5 minutes of ear lovins at a time!

***

1) So, your human writes books. Does this mean he or she is home all day and easy to access? Elaborate if necessary.

She used to have what she called a “day job,” which meant she often missed putting down the obligatory lunch food for moi (she left out dry food instead—like I’m really going to eat that). However, she’s now retired, which means she should be spending much her time making sure my entirely reasonable needs are met (why do humans always assume five minutes of ear scratching is enough?).

2) How large a proportion of her income do you have her devote to your gourmet tuna, cat beds, toys and other basic necessities?

Well, obviously not enough since she has some left over for her computer, but I’m working on that.

3) What are your techniques for distracting your human during crucial writing moments, just because it's fun?

I find hopping onto her keyboard does a great job, particularly the yelp of surprise it always evokes (sheesh, you’d think she’d be used to it by now).

4) What indignities and neglect have you suffered because of your human's writing career?

Did I mention the five minutes of ear scratching?

5) Tell me about the felines in your human's fiction. How often do they appear and how big a part do they play?

My human has shamelessly stolen events from my life to portray in her first novel, Venus in Blue Jeans. The cat there (she calls him Nico, but believe me, that’s an alias) even goes through the most traumatic experience of my life—the time I was shot by a mysterious assailant and rushed to the vet who managed to save me. You’d think that would be the central event of the book, but no, she has to bring this human love story into it, too.

6) On the off-chance your human has yet to incorporate cats into a story, what are your plans for making sure she rectifies this egregious error and demonstration of poor writing skills?

My human once owned another cat who liked to chew on power cables. I’ve never developed the taste myself, but perhaps her printer cord. . .

7) What works of fiction or cinema involving cats does your human enjoy sharing with you?

My human has pointed out the cats that show up in Jo Beverley who seem to have magical powers. As if that would make me more interesting! I don’t think so.

8) If you could make one change to your human, what would it be?

Well, there’s the ear-scratching thing. I could see starting at twenty minutes, then we’d work up to making it as long as I want it to last. That would certainly be an improvement over the five-minute rule.

***

Sincerely,
Meankitty
http://www.meankitty.com/ * http://www.jodywallace.com/

Snippet Saturday: Livin' It Up

Snippet Saturday is the brainchild of author Lauren Dane, wherein a group of authors selects thematic excerpts from their work and shares them on Saturday mornings. This Saturday's snippet is characters at work or at play (Livin' It Up). Here's an excerpt from a little-known gem I wrote a couple years ago as Ellie Marvel called "Behind the Mask". It was a shared-world piece, wherein 4 authors and I wrote stories set in the same location and time frame. All 5 stories were about the same thing: the tale(s) of 5 friends who had adored a specific band in high school and reunited when the band went on a Retro Rewind style tour.

My heroine was the pill of the bunch, if that shocks anyone. Here she is Livin' It Up at the company picnic near the beginning of the story. This excerpt contains salty language and violence.

You have been warned.

***

While the crowds around her cheered and gabbed, Arliss slumped on the bench in silence, awaiting her turn at bat. Company picnics were a torture to be endured, and August in Arkansas was the punishment of the damned and blessed alike. Basically it punished everybody who happened to be in Arkansas, whether or not they deserved it. Arliss knew she deserved it, but that didn't mean she suffered gladly.

Jerkass Thompson, beside her, cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, "Quit swinging at those bombs and take the walk, you idiot!" His elbow connected painfully with Arliss's arm, but he didn't apologize.

Arliss smiled tightly and clapped her hands to encourage the idiot at bat and keep herself from strangling the idiot beside her. Their team was trailing behind the other firm's team, four to two, and it was the top of the third with two outs. She would never have played, but her boss insisted she round out the numbers since she wasn't exactly busy with family or anything.

Thompson had guffawed at that and adjusted the fit of his spandex bike shorts around his nonexistent package.

So here she sat, in a sticky, unflattering T-shirt with the company logo and a pair of even less flattering athletic shorts, Eau de Stinky Coworker tantalizing her nostrils, wishing she were anywhere but here.

Maybe in Harrisburg. Would August in Harrisburg be any cooler? She could barely remember. She still hadn't decided whether she was going to the Blue Silver concert. Georgie had called twice, each time more passionate than the last, as if Arliss's absence would somehow skew the dynamics of the whole event.

None of the Silverettes had contacted her since high school, and suddenly her presence was essential to their wellbeing? Arliss alternated between fantasies of bonding with the other women so well they cried when she left, promised to write, and actually did; and dark images of herself trampled by teeny boppers who forcibly body surfed her to the front of the stage, where the cameras zoomed in on her flailing, beached whale body and she became a national "don't" in all the tabloids. Not only that, but her sordid past was revealed, leading to the loss of her job, the loss of her apartment, and her gradual descent into madness like her mother.

Then, too, occasional rational thoughts crossed her mind of what the experience would be like, and those were the most horrifying of all. She'd arrive in Harrisburg to discover her four friends had wonderful, fulfilling lives--and unnaturally toned asses--but insisted on constant reminiscences about high school and Blue Silver. Now, as then, Arliss would be forced to smile and nod and agree and suck it all up so she wouldn't ruin anyone's good time. Make any waves.

The real Arliss? She would horrify them, just as she had her former therapist when she finally made her feelings clear about yoga, relaxation tapes, feng shui's efficacy, and St. John's freaking hairy wart.

Well, the balding schmuck had encouraged her to let it all out.

The things she had to do to keep everyone in the world from detesting her. Like agree to play baseball during the company picnic, even though the August sun was pounding down on everyone like sledgehammers of magma.

The crack of a bat and the cheers of the crowd jerked Arliss from her heat-induced near coma.

"Run, Thompson!" somebody screamed, and Arliss realized her nemesis was no longer beside her.

That meant Arliss would be next up for bat if Thompson didn't get tagged out. Which Thompson, of course, didn't.

"Next up, Arliss Edgeworth for the T&A Titans," shouted the announcer with more enthusiasm than Arliss thought the situation merited. From a hot, annoying inconvenience, her enforced participation in baseball took on the potential for great humiliation. With hangdog reluctance, Arliss dragged herself to the plate.

The pitcher, the other firm's owner, took one look at Arliss, her dishwater blonde hair in sweaty tendrils, her round white legs dusted by red Arkansas dirt from her stint in far, far right field, and called out, "Softie on bat. Everybody move up!"

Arliss gritted her teeth. She knew she was unimpressive visually, but how could they be sure she was a softie? Maybe she was a hardie. A real hardass. That's what she'd always wanted to be, like Cassie. Or a genuinely nice person, like Georgie. Or cute and funny, like Marci. Or passionate and straight up, like Faith.

Instead, she was...

"Crap on a stick, it's Arliss," Thompson cursed.

She heard it all the way from second, where he bounced beside the base. Was her own team supposed to heckle her? Gretchen, on third, crossed her arms over her chest and frowned.

Her boss trotted to her side as the opposing team adjusted. "Arlie, just walk it," her boss ordered.

"Arliss," she corrected. Her dad had called her Arlie, like he couldn't bear to mouth the name he himself had saddled her with. She never trusted people who tried to turn her given name into something more palatable. She wore it like a badge of courage. Her only one, really.

Deep creases formed beside her boss's mouth as he grimaced. "David will be up next and he'll bring you home. You just have to get on first." The two firms' rivalry extended far beyond their business practices, and this annual game was a matter of great import to certain individuals.

Arliss was not one of them.

"Yes, sir," she said anyway. She accepted the bat with another of her patented tight smiles. The cool, smooth wood slid between her palms like déjà vu, and she rolled her shoulders and extended it experimentally. Not too heavy, not too light. She preferred aluminum, but not a bad bat at all.

As she squinted at the pitcher, the opposing team catcalled and yelled. Arliss tried one of those scorned relaxation techniques to slow her racing heartbeat. Deep breathing and happy thoughts. What would make her happy right now? Ah, she had it--sweating so much today she lost ten pounds with no additional effort.

The pitcher smirked and threw the ball, so wide the catcher had to dive for it. For some reason, Arliss's arms twitched, tilting the bat into the strike zone, though she'd had no chance of a connection.

"Strike one!" hollered the umpire.

Her boss swore in the background. The pitcher, his middle-aged belly jiggling in his snug T-shirt, laughed out loud and wound up for a second pitch.

The ball flew at her like an accusation. Arliss tensed and her arms jerked, again of their own accord. She had a bat in her hands. It's what you did with a bat, right? She missed again, and her stomach leapt into her throat like vomit.

"Strike two!" gloated the umpire.

"Don't swing, Edgeworth!" yelled her boss. "You can't hit the ball."

"Don't be a moron!" Thompson yelled.

"Batta-batta-batta, swing, batta!" chanted the opposing team.

Arliss felt a surge of all too familiar rage build inside her. It reddened her already heated face, tightened her muscles, buzzed in her ears. A scream bubbled on the back of her tongue, and she had no convenient lumbar cushion.

All she had was her anger. And her body. And this bat.

This nice, solid bat.

She didn't even breathe when the next ball sailed across the plate, she just lashed out with every bit of frustration inside her. The ball and bat connected so hard, she felt the vibration in her spine. At lightning speed, the ball zinged straight back at the pitcher and struck him in his forehead.

He dropped like a brick.

Nobody uttered a peep until the left fielder, his wife, screeched and dashed toward her husband as fast as her short little Arkansas legs would carry her. Then the catcher and umpire ran toward the fallen man as well.

Arliss dropped the bat and wondered if she should get her ass onto first, but neither Gretchen nor Thompson had budged, so instead she flapped her tingling hands. Something broke open inside her, something as tingly as her hands and as satisfied as she knew damn well she shouldn't be.

She'd hit the ball. Big time.

Through the sudden activity, she heard several cell phones being dialed, and somebody requested an ambulance. Her boss, still in earshot, muttered to himself. "We'll have to take a fucking forfeit. Stupid female."

The wounded pitcher groaned and lifted a hand to his head, while his wife clucked over him. "Bring me ice!" she shrieked. "Honey, are you okay?"

A mass of strange anticipation pinned her in place. Arliss watched while everyone on both teams, from both companies, skittered around like ants. There was no difference between them from this angle. Nobody so much as glanced at her, so there was no need to explain how Loser Arliss, the softie, the early bird, the ever-compliant, had managed to hit that ball, and hit it hard.

Truth was, she'd been seeing a new therapist the past two months. One she'd picked out herself, not that asshat the court had chosen. The new woman recommended Arliss take up martial arts or whack baseballs around to relieve stress. The batting cage visits led to the purchase of her own bat, and that to some therapeutic trips to a local junkyard, where you could pay a small fee to destroy old tvs and washing machines. The geezer who ran the place looked at her funny, but Arliss, for once, didn't try to hide her true self behind a mask, the true self who wanted to rail against life. Scream out her hate. Smash up some shit.

It was much more rewarding than manicures.

Maybe if her mother had destroyed more inanimate objects when Arliss had been in high school, she wouldn't be in the institution in Little Rock and Arliss wouldn't be...where she was.

It also helped that Thompson had been severely reprimanded two months ago for opening another email virus and infecting the company servers. What a bonehead. He froze on second base like a pillar of salt, only he, unlike anyone else in the park, was watching Arliss. Studying her.

She wasn't sure, but she thought she saw a glimmer of fear in his beady eyes.

***

For more excerpts you can visit:

Eliza Gayle
Jody Wallace
Kelly Maher
McKenna Jeffries
Michelle M Pillow
Moira Rogers
S. J. Day
Sasha White
Shelley Munro
Taige Crenshaw
Vivian Arend
Lauren Dane

For more Arliss you can buy: http://www.amberquill.com/AmberHeat/BlueSilverBehindMask.html If you get all the Blue Silver stories, you get a discount, btw. They are erotic romance, so 18+ only.

Jody W.

http://www.jodywallace.com/

Meankitty Wants to Know: Wicca and JK Coi

The feline who owns author JK Coi, Wicca, read over the interview questions her author typed out for my human and decided to submit his answers instead. I'm sure you'll agree they add a lot more cachet to my interview series! Alas, there isn't an available photograph of Sir Wicca, and you're also not allowed to ask about his name.

***

1) So, your human writes books. Does this mean he or she is home all day and easy to access? Elaborate if necessary.

Hello. Firstly, I would say thank you for having me. You know, this is my first interview, and much overdue if you ask me. Although nobody does...ask me, that is.

So, yes. My human writes books. Would that were all she did and maybe I’d get some attention without having to beg for it like a damned dog, but in fact she’s out pretty much the entire day. When she comes home she tells me about the work she’s been doing, but then it’s all about getting dinner ready for the family...although I’ll give her this, at least she feeds me first and for that she has my eternal devotion, barring any tail stomping incidents, which I don’t foresee.

2) How large a proportion of her income do you have her devote to your gourmet tuna, cat beds, toys and other basic necessities?

I hate to be one of those diva cats who are so demanding. My needs are actually very simple: I must be fed in the morning before six and again in the evening by five (and I’ll usually try to convince her I need another meal if she happens to be in the kitchen any time in between); I will also need a comfortable lap to sleep on, a soft cushion at the window to monitor the birds—I’ll find a way to get those pests out of my tree, I’m working on my master plan, it’s just taking a little longer to implement. Um, where was I? Oh yes. I also require half of the bed during the night (which for some reason, doesn’t go over well with the husband person), as well as the warm neck of my human to curl up in.

3) What are your techniques for distracting your human during crucial writing moments, just because it's fun?

The tail flick in the face as I walk across the keyboard is a classic. Don’t mess with perfection. But if for some reason that doesn’t work, then a head butt and a verbal warning usually does the trick and I’ll manage to get her up for a trip to the kitchen for a tasty cat treat.

4) What indignities and neglect have you suffered because of your human's writing career?

Can you believe that more than once she hasn’t come to bed at all...and I have actually been forced to sleep on the hard computer desk instead of my comfortable spot in the bed?

5) Tell me about the felines in your human's fiction. How often do they appear and how big a part do they play?

My human has written only one feline into her books—Me! And of course, that’s exactly the way it should be. I am the brave and fierce black tiger—okay, tabby—in her upcoming release, Forever Immortal (http://www.jkcoi.com/Pages/ForeverImmortal.html).

6) What works of fiction or cinema involving cats does your human enjoy sharing with you?

I’m not generally interested in my human showing an interest in any cat other than me. I’m sure you can understand. However, I have to admit that I can sometimes be coerced into watching that Puss N’ Boots movie—you know, the one that has a green ogre and a donkey in the supporting roles. That’s a cool cat.

7) If you could make one change to your human, what would it be?

Hmm. I guess if I could change something, it would be her insistence in calling me Wicca. Granted, I am a black cat and I did come into her life at Halloween, but I’m a male cat—and I end up having to defend myself against the neighbourhood tabbies a little too often. All in all, as far humans go, she’s a pretty good one and I’ve got her trained well enough, so I can even forgive that small thing.

***

Sincerely,
Meankitty
http://www.meankitty.com/ * http://www.jodywallace.com/

Snippet Saturday: Prologues!

Snippet Saturday is the brainchild of author Lauren Dane, wherein a group of authors selects thematic excerpts from their work and shares them on Saturday mornings. This Saturday's snippet is the prologue, and luckily I've got one in my first published novel, A SPELL FOR SUSANNAH, which can be purchased here: https://www.mybookstoreandmore.com/shop/product.da/a-spell-for-susannah in digital format (paper is also available).

***

Prologue

The final sovereign of the Middle Kingdoms signed the petition with a flourish and then fanned the ink to dry it before handing it to the footman. The youngest of the thirteen kings, he was a handsome man with dark brown hair and a neat beard.

“Well done!” The Emperor accepted the completed document and unrolled it to its full length, nodding his head in approval. The charmed parchment, when signed by all thirteen human kings and their Emperor and witnessed by three representatives from the Fairy Alliance for Ethics, would bind the fairy Malady from the human lands, in particular from attending any more christenings with her nasty little gifts.

“It was your child upon whom Malady bestowed her final curse, so it is fitting you be the one to summon the Fairy Alliance to hear our judgment.” The Emperor handed the pearl and ruby conch shell to the youngest king.

“Thank you, Your Splendor.” The man raised the device to his lips and blew several short, eerie blasts. Almost immediately, three fairies materialized in the center of the golden throne room. The breeze of their arrival ruffled the heavy crimson hangings along the long walls and set the tiered chandelier tinkling.

“We’ve been expecting your summons,” Pleasentia said, swishing her gauze dress and smiling at the men gathered in the darkened room.

“Hurry and get this over with.” The fairy Budbud snapped her wizened fingers, and in them appeared a large gold seal. “Recite the document, sprinkle on the fairy dust and let us ratify it. We’ve better things to be doing during the blue moon’s night.”

The third fairy held a crumpet dripping with jam. “Is this about Mali?” Gary asked, licking his fingers. “You know, her gifts really don’t—”

“We don’t want to hear any more of your excuses!” thundered the Emperor. “We have the right to bar specific fairies from our midst if we so choose. In fact we have the right to bar all fairies from the human lands, and then where would you get your precious gold?”

“Oh, do shut up, Hubert, and get on with it,” Budbud said. “We all know you aren’t going to ban all the fairies. You want our spells as much as we want your gold.”

The Emperor flushed and cleared his throat. He began to recite the document, which cast the first threads of the spell that would prohibit Malady from entering human lands until the parchment was burned three times with the feather of a red gold phoenix.

“We the people…”

“They always start their documents that way. Why do they do that?” whispered Pleasentia.

“Hush, dear.” Gary patted her hand. “Let them have their fun.”

“We the people, in order to maintain a more solid union, to provide for the common defense of ourselves and our posterity, do hereby declare the fairy Malady banned and barred from the Middle Kingdoms forthwith. She is forbidden from attending the christenings of any human children, be they noble or common, even if those christenings take place outside the Middle Kingdoms, and should she seek to harm, injure or otherwise take revenge upon any human, let her—”

In a blast of light followed by a billow of reeking smoke, the fairy in question exploded into the vaulted throne room, her wiry hair standing on end. She stamped her feet upon the crimson carpet and the walls trembled.

“What charade is this?” she cried. “Banning me, the great Malady, from your puny human lands?”

The Emperor stared at the wicked sprite in dismay, his mouth hanging open, as the other occupants of the room coughed and waved tendrils of smoke from their faces.

“Keep reading, Your Splendor!” insisted the youngest king. “We shall not traffic with her. Let her see how she likes bargaining with the Sun Demons for her precious gold.” But the Emperor let the parchment droop in his grasp.

“Better not make that face, Hubert.” Malady cackled, raised a hand and an icy globule of magic appeared in it. She hurled it at the Emperor, striking him in the head and immobilizing him. “It might freeze that way!”

Budbud harrumphed. “Always butting in where you aren’t invited. You leave these humans be!”

“I will not!” screeched the black-haired fairy. “I curse these humans! I curse them and the horses they rode in on!”

“Can’t we leave the horses out of it?” asked Gary. “What did they ever do to you?”

“Okay, scratch the part about the horses.” Malady sketched some glowing runes in the air before she wiped them out with a quick hand. “But as for these foolish humans, these so-called nobles who reject my gifts, let them be forever cursed!”

Since the other kings were too intimidated to move, the young king beside the Emperor snatched the document from his limp hands. “We the people, yes, yes,” he said, racing through the text.

“Let them never bear another male child—” shrieked Malady.

“If she should seek revenge, blah blah, let her be banished by the representatives of the Fairy Alliance who stand here—” shouted the king.

“Let them bear only female children from this day forward—”

“Banished to east of the sun and west of the moon for a thousand years and a day!”

“Only girl babies for every king, every duke, every single noble in your stupid, pitiful lands!”

“So be it rote!” The young king snatched the philter of fairy dust from a gaping footman and doused the parchment.

“So be it rote,” echoed the twelve kings.

“Mmmfh!” rasped the Emperor.

“So be it rote,” agreed the three fairies, who’d observed the chant-off with great interest. Budbud hopped onto the Emperor’s dais and stamped the document with the golden seal. A ripple of pale light bloomed outward from the paper, dissipating as quickly as it appeared.

Upon the completion of the banishment, Malady doubled over with hateful laughter. Still chortling, she exploded out of the throne room in much the same way she entered, leaving a burned patch on the crimson rug.

With a gasp, the Emperor tore the icy skein from his face. “Surely that curse won’t stick,” he panted. “Will it?”

***
Other prologues can be found at:

Sylvia Day
Shelley Munro
Jaci Burton
Michelle Pillow
Juliana Stone
Moira Rogers
Sasha White
TJ Michaels
Lacey Savage
Jody Wallace
Eliza Gayle
Kelly Maher
Taige Crenshaw
Beth Williamson
Beth Kery
Mandy Roth
Vivian Arend

Jody W.
http://www.jodywallace.com/ * http://www.meankitty.com/

Meankitty Wants to Know: Candace Havens

My Typing Slave has purchased quite a few perches for my use that look a lot like books written by author Candace Havens, who writes wonderful romance and women's fiction about witches, demons, sisters and librarians as well as some erotic romance and nonfiction. Most recently her book Dragons Prefer Blondes is being released by Berkley Trade, so I thought it would be a good time to find out when SHE is opening a cat sanctuary. Read more below....

***

1) Why did you decide to be a writer instead of a cat sanctuary owner?

The only reason I didn't open the sanctuary was because of a terrible allergic reaction to the most beautiful creatures in the world. Writing was the next best thing for me. It allows me to create worlds where my characters are not allergic to lovely felines.

2) Why do you think cats are better than dogs? (Since you call yourself a writer, I trust your answer will be eloquent.)

Well, that's an easy one. Cats are so smart, beautiful and elegant.

3) Tell me about the felines in your fiction. How often do they appear and how big a part do they play in your narratives?

In my first three books, which is the Charmed & Dangerous series, Casper was prominent. She was a protector and friend of my witch Bronwyn. I have plans to star some felines in upcoming books.

4) What are your favorite works of fiction involving cats or favorite fictional cats?

I really enjoy the Lillian Jackson Braun series, and there are so many others, um, Annette Blair and Yasmine Galenorn are two more that come to mind.

5) Do you have any amazing, or at least humorous, real life cat stories you'd like to share?

My parents didn't seem to care that I had such horrible allergies, so we always had felines around when I was growing up. They had very original names like Girl Kitty, Boy Kitty and Killer. My favorite was Goffrey, he was dark gray and I swear he knew everything I was thinking. One time when I was upset about something, he came and put his paw on my hand, as if to say, "everything will be okay." I loved that guy, and he had the most incredible green and gold eyes. He was magic.

6) Multiple choice 1. What is your preference and why?
A) Long hair
B) Short hair
C) No hair
-- Note: I am not, of course, referring to the hirsute qualities of your most recent hero or heroine.

I wasn't fond of the cleaning up the long hair part, but we've had some of the most beautiful long hair cats when I was growing up. My aunt just bought a hairless cat, and I'm thinking, with my allergies, that might be the way to go. :-)

7) Multiple choice 2. You have a writing deadline but the cat who rules you wants some attention. Desperately. Do you:

A) Lock the cat in another room and keep working?
B) Pet the cat for a couple minutes and then toss her cruelly aside?
C) Pet the cat as long as she wants because you know it will inspire and refresh you? -- Note: If you answered anything besides C, we suggest you consider the fact you could have written a much better book if you had been inspired and refreshed instead of mean to the cat.

If I had a cat it would most definitely be C.

***

Sincerely,
Meankitty
http://www.meankitty.com/ * http://www.jodywallace.com/

Snippet Saturday: Enter the Villain

Snippet Saturday is the brainchild of author Lauren Dane, wherein a group of authors selects thematic excerpts from their work and shares them on Saturday mornings. This Saturday's snippet is the scene where a character, presumably one of the protagonists, meets the villain. Below you'll find a short scene from SURVIVAL OF THE FAIREST where the villain who isn't the villain meets the villain who is the villain. I'm not saying which is which! You can buy your very own copy of the book and find out here: https://www.mybookstoreandmore.com/shop/product.da/survival-of-the-fairest (link is to digital copy, print also available) I'm currently working on the sequel to SOTF in which at least one of these characters appears...maybe as a protagonist, and maybe as a villain again.

The scene opens when Elder Embor of Clan Torval, the fairy Primary (sort of like a president), has failed to capture the heroine, Talista, who is AWOL in humanspace. He requests that the local fairy ring agent be brought to him for questioning.

***

When the gray-haired fairy was brought to him, she crushed out her cigarette and blew a cloud of smoke in his face. Embor closed his eyes and prayed for patience, though it was difficult surrounded by poisonous fumes.

The woman had become peculiar and insubordinate during her stint in humanspace, but her record showed no complaints. Her team had identified many entries to increase the fragmented lists of individuals to be monitored. Her achievements were undeniable. The Agent Oversight Committee in charge of humanspace agents was satisfied with her mental health. Ring agents who spent years with humans often became eccentric. Who wouldn’t after inhabiting this stinking world for decades?

“Lit out on you, did she?” Her voice was a rusted creak of dissolution. She brushed an ash from her filmy white skirt and flipped the butt at the trashcan. “Sucks to do things without magic, don’t it?”

“It’s more difficult than need be. Creating spellglobes to locate her would take time, time we don’t have.” It would also require the cooperation of Anisette or the twins’ parents, and he wasn’t ready to alert Clan Serendipity to the fact that their beloved princess was AWOL in humanspace.

The woman shifted on the hotel bed and crossed one leg over the other. A bony knee poked through a hole in her tights. “It would suck to live like this, what, fifty years? Get you a head of gray hair and a crop of wrinkles worse than a whore’s bed. The piss-paltry few months you Realmsiders experienced during the Incident ain’t got nothing on it for aches and pains.”

Embor tightened his lips to prevent himself from savaging the old fairy. The Incident had nearly devastated the Realm. He replied in an even voice. “Humanspace isn’t healthy in large doses. Your commitment does your clan honor.”

“Commitment my pasty white ass.” She assessed him with pale eyes. “I hear twosies can’t go longer than a week or two without suffering the nail-heads.”

“Correct.” Embor could stave off separation sickness, but the princess couldn’t. “You see why it’s imperative we retrieve Talista soon.”

***

Find more villainous villainry at:

Leah Braemel
Victoria Janssen
Shelley Munro
Anya Bast
Cynthia Eden
SJ Day
Jaci Burton
Michelle Pillow
Juliana Stone
Moira Rogers
Sacha White
TJ Michaels
Lacey Savage
McKenna Jeffries
Jody Wallace
Eliza Gayle
Kelly Maher
Vivian Arend
Taige Crenshaw
Beth Williamson

***

Jody W.

http://www.jodywallace.com/ * http://www.meankitty.com/