Silk & Shadows

[Note from Jessa: I met Maggie Mae at the Romance Writers of America conference in Orlando and fell in love with her logo :)  She was such a powerhouse, moving through the conference like a woman with a mission, I couldn't believe she didn't have a half dozen series published in her wake.  I knew we had to have her here so we could say "we knew her when."  Thanks for guest posting with us, Maggie!  (BTW, all, Maggie told me she's a blog virgin; this is her first guest post. So I do hope you'll say hi!)]

Sunday morning dawned bright and early after the big awards gala. My father drove in from Tampa and met my roommate and I for breakfast before ferrying us off to Orlando International Airport. When he asked the question what did you learn at the conference, my brain was overloaded and hyper-caffeinated. I looked at him like he was speaking to me in tongues. It took a few days for my system to calm done from the experience and truly digest all that happened.

Here’s what I learned at Nationals:

• Amazingly enough my favorite authors are people too. People who put their pants on one leg at a time.
• The stupendous solidarity and support offered to RWA members at all levels was overwhelming. It helps validate our sanity when we are having arguments with out characters at three in the morning. Because now we know that other writers do too.
• That yes, one can have far too much rubber chicken.
• For writers who are pre-published, such as myself, getting a thumbs up and encouragement from writers we consider our literary gods will be something we  remember our whole lives.
• Nora Roberts, Jayne Ann Krentz and Sabrina Jeffries are just as entertaining in person as their books!
• That I am entitled to a fan girl moment. Thanks Barbara Vey for being such a good sport!
• Friends should not let friends shop alone at the literacy signing. During the signing I forgot the bookaholics anonymous mantra, “We do not need to own every book we see.”
• For next year, ship all my books before the rush on Saturday.
• That yes, you can have a second fan girl moment when you receive your shipped box of signed books!

So much information, one tiny little brain.

Nationals is unlike anything you will ever experience. I am thrilled I had the opportunity to attend. I applaud the hard work and dedication of the RWA Board pulling off the nigh impossible task of relocating the conference. Whether a newbie or an old pro, it’s worth every cent. I highly recommend attending a conference of this magnitude at least once. I’m already looking forward to Nationals in the Big Apple. A chance revisit the friendships made this year and an opportunity to make new ones.

See you in New York!
Maggie Mae Gallagher

From Maggie’s website, a blurb on her someday-fingers-crossed book:

Born into the nightmare realm Earth has become, Alana Devereaux was raised battling the demons destroying our planet. As a Cantati, it was what she had been bred to do. When humanity’s final defenses crumble, Alana will become the last hope for our survival. Sent back through time, reeling from all she has lost, until she meets the mysterious stranger who fights demons almost as well as she does.

Gaelen Cormac, an exiled Fomorian Fae prince, pulls her into the chess game being played across the globe with the winner taking Earth as their prize. Alana must wage a deadly battle with all the forces of Infernio, even as she wages a dire campaign within her heart.

Alliances shall be forged, ancient enemies shall rise and Alana will be forced to choose. As the last Cantati, she must decide whether she will be humanity’s salvation or its demise. She is…Anointed.

[Note from Jessa: I met Tracy at the Romance Writers of American conference last year at a lunch hosted by our literary agency.  Right there, I fell in love with Tracy's hot and steamy erotica covers, but I think I'm even more excited about these dragons!  Check it out and don't forget to leave a comment for a chance to win a copy of her latest book!]

I’m so excited to be here today, talking about Dark Embers, the first book in my brand new Dragon’s Heat series.  Though I’ve been published for a couple of years now as Tracy Wolff (erotic suspense and Harlequin Superromances) this week marks more than the debut of a new series for me-it also marks the debut of a brand new name, Tessa Adams. 

Building a new name in today’s competitive market is difficult, but that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about today.  Today, I wanted to talk about a different type of naming altogether-one that is even harder.  That naming, of course, is the naming of my characters. 

When I first started writing professionally, I thought I’d have no problem coming up with names for my characters-after all, there are a million (more probably) names in the world. How hard could it be?  Ha!  That question shows you how much I knew.

Admittedly, sometimes it’s not difficult at all to find the right name and other times it’s so hard that I feel like ripping my hair out.  For example, I’m launching a dark and angsty Young Adult series in early 2011, centering around a strong female protagonist who is the daughter of a professional surfer and a mermaid.  As her seventeenth birthday approaches, she must make a choice-does she stay human or become mermaid?  Naming her was easy for me-Tempest came to me early on in the process and fit her like a glove.  Naming my dragons, on the other hand, was terrible.

As I sat down to write Dark Embers, I spent a long time wondering what a good name would be for a dragon.    Obviously, it had to be strong and sexy and hot (pun totally intended).  And, to make matters a million times worse, I didn’t need to name just one dragon- I had to name nine.  After all, when you set up a series, you need to start bringing in a group of secondary characters fairly early on-otherwise, your readers won’t be very vested in the next book in the series.  So, suddenly, I not only had to name the King of the Dragonstar clan (who turned out to be Dylan, btw, which means, powerful, with great influence, like a lion, son of the sea or son of magic, depending what source for name origins you look at-it seemed the perfect name for my tortured, reluctant yet incredibly powerful King) but I also had to name his sentries-the men who helped him protect his clan. 

After days of playing with names, I reached a really interesting conclusion-I love male names that end in the letter N.  I have Dylan, Quinn, Logan, Ian, Shawn … you get the idea (and is now a good time to mention that heroes of two of my already published books have the names Kevin and Byron???)  Talk about N overload.  To throw some variety in there, I ended up adding in a Gabe (because Gabriel is my all time favorite name ever, so of course he is one of the most amazing characters I’ve ever written) and a Liam, which is so close to ending with an N, I wonder why I even bother.  And after I finally settled on the dragon names, I had to come up with names for their mates-or at least for the first few books, as I had one to write and proposals due on another two. 

And now, that those names are finally taken care of (Phoebe for Dylan, Jasmine for Quinn and Annalisse for Logan), here I am again, struggling to find the perfect names for a brand new urban fantasy series I am working on. 

For my heroine, a direct descendent from the highest priestess of the Egyptian goddess, Isis, she is a body finder, someone who through magic, psychic link, etc. is unerringly drawn to uncover dead bodies.  Playing opposite her are two men (don’t you love a love triangle???) one a beleaguered FBI agent stuck following her across state lines as she discovers bodies and the other a powerful, magical force from her past whose very presence causes her already difficult gift to go haywire.  The only problem … I don’t yet have names for any of them.  So …  

What I thought I’d do, was ask your advice.  Any suggestions for kick-ass female names?  Or for strong, powerful male names?  Leave a suggestion here and be entered to win a copy of Dark Embers.  Thanks in advance, and thanks so much to the wonderful ladies of Silk and Shadows for having me.  I really appreciate it.

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Read more about DARK EMBERS:

King Dylan MacLeod is one of the last pure-bred dragon shapeshifters in existence-and ruler of a dying race, the Dragonstar clan.  It falls to him to protect his people-and their ancient magic.  He has one more duty: to provide an heir.

Like all dragons, Dylan can only procreate with his destined mate-for whom he’s searched for five hundred years.  His dark, rampant sexual appetite has earned him quite the reputation, all in the pursuit of his one true match.

But his search is delayed when a deadly disease sweeps through the Dragonstars, and Dylan must venture to the human world to find a cure.  He tracks down renowned biochemist Phoebe Quillum, never imagining the beautiful scientist will be the mate he’s been seeking for centuries.  But no sooner do they meet then Phoebe and Dylan are besieged by an obsessive, overpowering sexual desire.

Their passion turns to something truer-and they know in their souls and bodies that they’re in too deep to get out.  And when Phoebe is kidnapped by Dylan’s oldest enemy, he must risk everything to reclaim the only woman he’s ever loved, or his clan will be wiped out forever.

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Prologue

He’d failed. Again.

Locked inside his head, tormented by shades of what might have been, Dylan MacLeod stepped into the night and closed the heavy, wooden door behind him.

He paused for a moment, sucked in a deep breath full of heat and sand and misery. Told himself it was no big deal. Part of him even believed it.

After four hundred and seventy years, he was damn good at lying to himself.

Shoving away from the small house with the cactus garden and the stone swimming pool in the front yard, he walked the deserted street rapidly. It was three a.m., and his only company was a scorpion or two. The desert was quiet, the night solemn.

And he had failed again.

With each step he took, his conscience grew heavier.

With each footfall, his heart grew colder, until he was once again at that place without hope. It was where he usually existed, where he’d spent the last century, mired in guilt and rage and a fear he refused to admit.

That he was here now was his own fault. It had been stupid, even for a moment, to truly believe that she might have been the one.

Agitation made him walk faster, until his boots were pounding the pavement in rhythm with his too-quick pulse. Self-disgust made him shut down inside, until all he could think of was the night.

The stars.

The moon shining brilliantly over the desert.

At least until his jeans sagged around his ass.

With a muttered curse, Dylan yanked the faded denim back into place. Slid the button through the tab, jerked up the zipper.

What did it say about him that this latest encounter had left him so desperate to get away that he hadn’t stayed long enough even to get his clothes on properly? Worse, he hadn’t bothered to say good-bye to Eve . . . Eva? Eden?

For a brief moment, he struggled to remember her name, what she looked like. Then let it go, as it mattered less than nothing. It wasn’t like he’d be seeing her again. Within moments of slipping inside her, he’d figured out that she wasn’t the one-none of the signs were there.

No instant connection between them, as his clan mates so often spoke about.

No burning as the tattoo around his arm shifted to reflect the presence of his mate.

No searing pain as a part of her soul arrowed into his.

Nothing but a mediocre orgasm that had barely given his powers a pulse. Before she’d rolled off him, he’d been plotting his escape. And by the time the shower had kicked on in the bathroom, he’d been halfway to the front door.

God, he was a fucked-up bastard. Cold as ice, despite the fire that raged within him. Hot as flame, despite the glacier that had taken up residence in his stomach. Was it any wonder, then, that he couldn’t find her?

He didn’t deserve her.

His laugh, when it came, was anything but humorous. That had to be the understatement of the year. The decade. The new millennium, and probably the old one, as well. Why else would it have taken him this long to do what everyone else managed in the first two centuries of their existence? Why else would he be doomed to failure night after night, encounter after encounter? He had screwed up generations ago, and now he and his clan were paying the cosmic price. Big time.

His boots ate up the streets in the sleepy little town, as he struggled to put distance between himself and his latest sexual escapade. Wind whipped around him, played with the tails of his shirt, caressed his bare chest. But Dylan didn’t bother buttoning up. What was the point, when he was headed right back to the bar to find yet another female shifter interested in taking it off?

Hope sprang eternal.

As he walked, he scanned the desert around him. Checked out every brush of the wind against cactus; narrowed his eyes at the rustle behind a random pile of heavy rocks. Then shook his head as a low, deep howl split the air next to him. A lonely coyote was the least of his problems.

If someone had told him four hundred years ago that he would be here, in this place, he would have laughed at them. If they’d told him he would grow tired of night after night of hot, anonymous sex, he would have told them they were insane. But youth was like that-arrogant, seemingly invincible, convinced the world was for the taking. Or at least that’s how his youth had been.

He’d spent centuries gorging on women, taking them each and every way he could. Glutting himself on their scent and taste and feel, until his powers reached staggering heights. Devouring whatever they gave him with a grin and a wink and a softly whispered “Thank you.”

He had plenty of time, he’d told his father when the man had advised him to settle down. He was trying to find the right woman, he’d promised his mother when she’d fretted about the future. And then, from one heartbeat to the next, everything had changed.

His brother had been murdered. His parents had died soon after. He’d been crowned king. And just that suddenly, his people, his legacy, were without an heir. Bad enough that the second son was now the king. That he couldn’t find a mate, couldn’t deliver on his family’s legacy, was a nightmare.

There were others-his sister, his niece-who could take his place if he fell. But it wouldn’t be the same. The line of succession, which had remained in his family for more than three thousand years, would fall with him.

One more fuckup from a man who had never wanted to be king in the first place.

Dylan shoved the thought away-what he wanted didn’t play into things anymore. What was best for his people did. And what was best for them now was that he provide them an heir.

He should already have done so, should already have guaranteed his people’s survival through this millennia and into the next. God knew he had tried-for nearly four hundred years, he had tried. And he had failed.

No mate meant no heir.

No mate meant night after night of anonymous sex as he searched for her.

No mate meant a dwindling in his powers that was not just devastating, but downright dangerous-for himself and his people.

His was a precarious state of events for any centuries-old dragon, but for him it was an out-and-out disaster-particularly considering the state his clan was in.

Not that an heir would solve all the problems, but it would solve the most pressing-including the fact that it had been far too many years since a young dragon had been born to Dragonstar.

Far too long since they’d had something to celebrate.

His cell phone vibrated in his pocket, and for one brief second Dylan considered ignoring it. The day had been dismal enough-any more bad news and he might just take flight and never return. The idea was far more inviting than it should have been, far more compelling than it had ever been before.

In the end, he grabbed his phone and flipped it open. Barked “Hello” in a voice he knew was far from welcoming. He was king of the Dragonstar clan, and as such could never be unavailable to his people. That didn’t mean he had to like it-especially tonight.

“Dylan, come quick.”

A shot of uneasiness worked its way down his spine at the panic in his best friend’s-and second- in-command’s-voice. As a rule, nothing fazed Gabe.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s Marta. She’s-” Gabe’s voice broke. “She’s sick.”

His stomach plummeted to his boots. “Are you sure?”

His brother-in-law’s voice was hoarse. “I’m sure. I tried to deny the symptoms, to ignore them, but that’s not possible anymore. I don’t think-” His voice broke again. “I don’t think she’s going to make it through this.”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes.” Dylan was already running, his boots echoing in the deserted street as he stripped his shirt from his body. He didn’t bother with the pants or boots; they would take too long. Just blurred his image as he started to shift.

Pain-red-hot and intense-as bones broke, reshaped, grew longer.

Pleasure-acute and all-consuming-as he became what he was meant to be.

He ignored both sensations; concentrated instead on making it through the change. One more second. Two. And then he was in the air, his wings spread wide as he soared through the star-bright sky.

Not Marta, not Marta, not Marta. The simple phrase was a mantra in his head as he sped toward his lieutenant’s house, making sure to stay invisible, despite the panic racing through him. So many of his friends, so many of his clan, had been taken from him in the last years. He couldn’t stand to lose his sister-Gabe’s wife-too.

Please, God, not his baby sister, too.

But when he landed in Gabe’s yard, he knew his prayers had, once again, gone unanswered. He could smell the blood from outside the house, could hear his sister’s nonsensical mutterings through the walls of dense stone.

Marta was bleeding out.

Delirious.

Probably already paralyzed.

If her illness followed the same pattern all the others had, she would be dead before the next moonrise. And there was nothing he could do about it.

Inside him, the power sputtered to life, surged through him. The need to heal, to fix, to do what he was destined to do. But he’d tried it so many times before on so many of his clan members, and each time, he had failed. This disease was an enemy he didn’t know how to fight.

Rage and anguish welled within him, crushing his lungs and twisting his spine into hard knots. Throwing back his head, Dylan roared with all his pent-up fury-then went inside to watch his baby sister die.

Note from Jessa: I got to dance with Marie-Claude Bourque at RT in Columbus this year, so I can attest to her fitness!  She’s willing to give away a copy of ANCIENT WHISPERS to one lucky commenter, so you can experience her wonderfully evocative writing yourself!

When it comes to writing fast, face it, unless we are specially gifted, it all comes down to motivation and how much time we spend putting words on the page.

I spend 15 years as an AFAA certified fitness instructor, the last 5 of those as a coordinator and trainer of instructors. I learned a thing or two about motivation, because really, taking the steps to stay fit and healthy requires a lot of motivation.

So here is what I taught my fitness clients and class participants and how you can adapt it to find the motivation to be more prolific in writing (and, as bonus, learn some fitness tips).

Keep your goals intrinsic:

Fitness: This means that your goals should be things that you can do something about as opposed to goals that involve someone else or external factors. I can have a goal of losing 10 pounds by next month or looking like Heidi Klum by my birthday but I’m fighting a lot of things here, my metabolism and my genetics. It is impossible with that goal to reach success. If I say I’ll exercise 4 times this week, or take my latte nonfat for now on, the goal is completely under my control. If I do fail, it’s my fault.

Writing: Similarly if my goal is to sell my first book within the year, hit the NYT list in 5 years or become as famous as Nora Roberts, I am not setting myself up for success.  However, I can be quite successful if I chose to submit my manuscript to ten agents this month, or my proposal to my editor by next week or finish my 2 completed novels by the end of the year. It’s all under my control.

Write it down:

Fitness: Most successful fitness professional write down their progress. In an exercise or a food log, in a notebook, calendar or on a smart phone, it doesn’t matter but it seems that people who track down what they are doing tend to think more about what they are about to eat and are motivated to see their progress on paper. I lost 40 pounds of baby weight twice by writing down everything I ate. It works.

Writing: We can do this in writing to. Track your daily word count or pages written, whether on a calendar that you see every day or in a special notebook, by coloring blocks on a chart, using a word count meter online or posting your accomplishments to your social networks, whatever works for you. Seeing the number add up every day is very motivating.

Make it social:

Fitness: I always tell my participant to make dates with friends at the gym. If you know your best friend is there, you can’t change your mind at the last minute. She might be upset. Planning for coffee afterwards with a bunch of pals makes you more likely to go because it’s fun. Having a running buddy who picks you up at your house also gives you no choice but go ahead with your exercise.

Writing: Writing is more solitary but you can make it social. Why is Twitter so popular with writers? You can meet a writer friend at the coffee shop to write, you can have a writing buddy that you email in the morning then at the end of the day to encourage each other or you can belong to goal oriented group like Amy Atwell’s Goal in a Month groups. It’s a lot more fun when you are not alone.

Get your stuff ready ahead of time:

Fitness: I like to keep my gear close by and accessible. If I am not spending 15 min. looking for my gym socks, I am much more likely to stick with my daily walks. I like to have my clothes ready if I know I’ll exercise in the morning and I would always pack my gym bag in my trunk in the morning when I used to work outside to head straight to the gym before going back home. In college, I would pack my locker with a fresh supply of all my gear for the week including swimsuit and rackets, so I could just go there and decide what kind of exercise I would do on the spot.

Writing: I write first thing in the morning and I am not blessed with an office. I found that when I put my notebook, pen, and laptop all ready for me to write, I am much more likely to do it. If you keep your material organized and easily accessible in an obvious reminder that you need to write now, you are more likely to do it.

If all fails, buy something.

Fitness: I used to tell people to go buy some nice exercise wear when they felt their motivation slipping. Yes exercise it hard, but we might as well look pretty while doing it. Trust me, it works. Plus if you’ve invested some money, you’re imposing a little guilt on yourself to actually use the stuff.

Writing: I cured my writer’s block last summer by downloading a song each time I would finish a scene. I figured the most it would cost me would be $75 for a whole book. Pretty cheap! It worked for me. Soon I was writing one-two scenes a day and even started to forget to buy songs because I was having so much fun writing. Find a little treat that you can get once you’re done, it might help!

Just do it

Fitness: In the end, there are no tricks. That’s why Nike got its trademark bang on. You just have to get there and do it. Don’t think. Learn to shut that part of your brain that moans and complains that you are tired and will start tomorrow. Get out there and exercise. Do it first thing in the morning (early exercisers are more successful at keeping up with it) or head to the gym straight after work. Don’t get comfortable, do it. Do it for 5 minutes, hey you might actually stick with it for 30 min. but if not, at least you got into the habit of doing it. It does get easier.

Writing: BIC: Butt in Chair. Is there any other way? Again, just do it. Don’t think about it. Sit and stare at the blank page. Even if all you do is sit there for your allotted time and think about your book, you are being productive. Find times to do it when you are so tired there is nothing more you’d like to do than sit down and daydream (I like early morning and right after my run).

So now, make a date with yourself and write!  (or exercise or both!)

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Marie-Claude Bourque is the American Title V winner and author of ANCIENT WHISPERS, a sensual gothic paranormal romance filled with sorcerers and Celtic priestesses in search for eternal love in modern time. She worked as a climate research scientist, a scientific translator and a fitness expert until she turned to fiction writing. She draws her inspiration from the French legends of her childhood and a fascination for dark fantasy.

ANCIENT WHISPERS, a Dorchester -Love Spell release is available now wherever books are sold. Find more at www.mcbourque.com and don’t forget to enter the contest for her month-long virtual release party at www.mcbourque.com/launchparty

Note from Jessa: When Elisabeth Naughton told my writing group about her first adventure romance trilogy, she called it “Indiana Jones meets Romancing the Stone,” which is like saying chocolate ganache meets dark chocolate.  And now she has a new series paranormal romance starting, which is like saying chocolate ganache meets dark chocolate with chocolate sprinkles.  And she’s giving away a copy today, so read up and leave your comment.

Thanks so much to the gang at Silk & Shadows for inviting me to be with you all today! 

If you’ve read any of my previous books you know that I’m a romantic suspense author who has recently shifted to the dark side and is now writing paranormals as well. The first book in my Eternal Guardians series – MARKED – released this month. Someone recently asked me, “Why the change?” and I thought about the question for a minute, but couldn’t answer. It’s a simple question, I know, but the only answer I could come up with was not one I knew the questioner wanted to hear. I mean, authors are supposed to know why they do everything they do, so to have an author say, “I dunno. I just write the books that come to me,” I knew my answer just wasn’t gonna cut it. 

That, of course, is a cop out answer (even if it’s true). And since readers seem to want to know why things change (as my editor says… “Okay, why is this happening again?”), I’ve decided it would be in my best interest to have a list of answers ready and waiting for just such a question. 

So here it is, my top ten list for shifting to the dark side. 

10. Look at that cover. Do I need to have another reason for wanting to write paranormals?!

9. Special powers come in really handy in the climax of a paranormal book. As an author who ALWAYS gets stuck here trying to make everything work out, I can tell you it’s much easier to throw in an electrical storm or zap someone with lightning fingers to get out of a bind than it is to save the day with plane ol’ Tom, Dick & Harry. 

8. Superhuman sex. (I do write romantic paranormals, after all.)

7. I get to write about snarky gods. They seem to be able to get away with anything they want. Who knew? 

6.   Looking for a little danger? You don’t need a serial killer on the run to amp up the tension. That’s sooo over done. Throw in a seething daemon instead. Seven feet tall, horns like a goat, face like a cat, ears off a dog and lots of claws? Oh man. So much more fun! 

5. Sure, romances are great, but when the two main characters are fated to be together and hate each other at the same time? That just adds an extra level of tension that makes the whole romance that much more interesting. 

4. The fact I can throw in a Fury (or two or three) whenever I feel like it (Yes, I am Fury obsessed). And this time they’re real winged creatures with snakes in their hair, razor sharp teeth and a rabid need for blood, not simply stone carvings of the creatures. 

3. I can write really twisted scenes and blame the genre. (“What? You think that’s too sick? Yeah, but it’s a paranormal. My readers will expect it.”) 

2.  Superhuman sex (did I say that before?) 

And the number one reason I decided to write paranormals: 

1. They’re just plain freakin’ fun! 

I never expected I’d have so much fun writing this series, but every day I’m excited I get to take my world one step further. While I love romantic suspense and don’t plan to give up writing in that genre (as soon as I turn in TEMPTED, book 3 in my Eternal Guardians series, I’m jumping back into a romantic suspense novella for Kensington), I’m thrilled I get to write about heroes and gods and prophecies and soul mates. The possibilities in a paranormal are endless, the danger is epic and the romance seems a thousand times more intense when other-worldy dangers are lurking around every corner.  

So why did I shift to the dark side? The answer is clear: Why the heck wouldn’t I?   

What do you love most about paranormal novels? What draws you to them again and again? I’ve got a copy of MARKED to give away to one lucky commenter today! 

***

A previous junior-high science teacher, Elisabeth Naughton now writes sexy romantic adventure and paranormal novels full time from her home in western Oregon where she lives with her husband and three children. Her debut release, Stolen Fury, heralded by Publisher’s Weekly as “A rock-solid debut,” was recently nominated for two prestigious RITA® awards by Romance Writers of America in the Best First Book category and the Best Romantic Suspense category. When not writing, Elisabeth can be found running, hanging out at the ball park or dreaming up new and exciting adventures. Learn more about Elisabeth and her books at www.Elisabethnaughton.com.

Tracy Madison knows how to make paranormal romance light and fun! And to prove it, she’s having a Month of Mysticism (with great prizes) on her blog.

Meanwhile, Tracy has dropped by S&S to give away a signed copy of A BREATH OF MAGIC to a commenter, so tell us about your favorite quirky characters!

Quirky Characters and Why I Love Them

One of my favorite words in the entire world of words is “quirk.” I love how it looks, how it sounds, and I even love saying it. Quirk. Quirks. Quirky. Go ahead and say it out loud. Please? I’ll wait…

See? It’s a fun little word! Just saying it forces your mouth into a pucker, which is sort of quirky on its own. But as much as I love the phonetics of the word, that’s not the only reason why I adore the word “quirk.” I also love its meaning.

Quirk has a few different definitions, but the one I’m talking about today is:

“A peculiarity of action, behavior, or personality: mannerism.”

And right there is the reason why I am hooked. Every single one of us has at least one quirk. I totally believe this. Even if you can’t identify your own quirks, I bet those closest to you can. Some people’s quirks might be tiny, barely noticeable peculiarities, while others have more than their fair share of peculiarities. Heck, I know a few on both sides of the equation.

But these quirks are part of what makes us who we are. Some of them are funny, and we’re used to being teased about them. For example, I cannot sit in a public place with my back to the room. Okay, well, I can. I just don’t want to. It gives me the creepy-crawlies and I’ll do almost anything to avoid it. My friends and family give me a knowing look whenever I beeline it for the chair against the wall. If I have to sit with my back to the room, I will. I’ll just be uncomfortable until I can get up and leave.

And oh, am I teased about this. Everyone thinks it’s hilarious. Especially because I have no reason to be this way—it just is what it is. But if you think about it, that’s a true statement for most quirks. And that’s another reason why I love them. Quirks, peculiarities of action, can breathe life into the characters of any book I’m reading. They are an important aspect of what helps me connect to characters, so I care about them and their story.

These quirks don’t have to be huge or crazy, either. Often, the tiniest of mannerisms are the strongest in characterization, the most compelling, and deliver exactly the bit of insight I need to truly understand a character. They add dimension, texture, and create characters that jump off the page into real life.

Can you imagine Sookie Stackhouse being quite as interesting without her high quirk quotient?

Or what about Eve Dallas and her penchant for sweets and coffee, or even the fact she hates having her hair styled? Eve is a strong woman, an engrossing character, and infinitely interesting to read about, but I have to say, I like her even more because of her quirks.

Quirks can also make me dislike a character, feel disgust, or even cringe as soon as that character walks into a scene. But when that happens, it’s for a reason. In most cases, the author wants me to have those feelings, and that’s why they’ve given these particular characters unappealing quirks. They’ve still used certain peculiarities of action to add dimension, texture, and realism into their characters. So, whether I like, love, or loathe the end result—these characters feel real to me, and that’s exactly how I want to feel when I’m reading a book.

And this is why I love quirky characters.

When I’m creating the characters who will live in my stories, I definitely give a great deal of consideration to quirks. Sometimes, these quirks pop up when I least expect it, and I love that. Other times, though, I have to consciously decide what quirk is right for which character. In my Magic series (A Taste of Magic, A Stroke of Magic, and my newest release, A Breath of Magic), I use quirks mostly to add humor, but also to add emotion.

I want my readers to care about my characters, to laugh with them, to worry about whatever struggles they’re facing, and giving them quirks is one way I can accomplish this. As a writer, my hope is that my readers will become invested in my characters, so they’ll stick around from page one all the way to “the end,” and enjoy the journey in between.

What about you? Who are some of your favorite quirky characters? And if you feel like sharing…what are some of your quirks? Everyone who comments will be entered to win a signed copy of A Breath of Magic!

To learn more about my books and maybe even some of my quirks, visit me at www.tracymadison.com.

Read the post and comment to win Sherrill’s book. Details below!

I live in the Southwest, and things are starting to heat up. We hit 80 degrees yesterday, and will be in the mid-upper 70s for the next week. In the next 30 days we’ll creep into the 90s, and by late June we’ll flirt with temps in the low 100s. The sun starts coming up over the eastern mountains at 4:45 a.m. And since I’m very tuned to daylight, that’s when I wake up. Not willingly and certainly not happily.

It’s all relative, isn’t it? When I lived in Ohio I couldn’t wait for winter to be over. Snow, ice and cold are not my friends. Now I don’t want winter to end. Arizona in the winter is as close to paradise, weather-wise, as you can get.

I really love living here, and that translates to my books. Daring the Moon, Book One in my Kensington Brava Moon series, starts out here in Tucson, and the series wraps up back here with Taming the Moon. In between there’s the wildness of Cornwall’s Isles of Scilly and men who go wolfish at the full moon. Here’s a brief excerpt from Daring the Moon:

Staring down the end of a shotgun barrel was not the way Taite Gibson had planned to end her day. She bit the inside of her lip and, with two fingers, carefully moved the barrel so it no longer pointed directly at her.

“Listen, Mr. Wheeler, I’m not asking you to testify in court.” She left the yet unspoken. “I’m just starting the investigation for the Pima County Attorney’s office, okay? I need to talk to you about what happened.”

The man’s face went dark with outrage. “What happened? I’ll tell you what happened! A bunch of punk-ass hooligans came in here and robbed me at gunpoint, that’s what happened.” Wheeler made a threatening gesture with the shotgun. His ruddy face darkened even more. “I dare ‘em to try it again.”

Taite held up one hand and tried to inject as much authority into her voice as possible. This wasn’t the first time she’d been on the wrong end of a gun and it probably wouldn’t be the last. “Mr. Wheeler, put that away.”

He grinned. “Don’t worry, Ms. Gibson. It’s legal. I’ve got a permit.” He held the gun in one hand and ran the other one down the wooden stock in a slow caress. “Ain’t she a beaut? Remington Wingmaster five-shot with walnut stock, twin bead sight, and would you look at the finish on that barrel.” He sighed like a man in love.

“I wasn’t concerned about the legality,” she replied steadily. “Just put it away. Please.”

With a mumbled comment and a last, loving caress he complied, stowing the gun under the counter. He walked back around and leaned against the glass case and fussed with a display of cowboy hats.

“Thank you.” Taite drew in a breath. She loved the smell of leather. Wheeler carried leather coats, chaps, boots…you name it, if it was made of leather, he had it. She also caught a faint smell of something similar to sage as she walked forward again and pulled out a small notebook from her oversized purse. “Now, as I said, I’m here on behalf of the Pima County Attorney’s office. I’m investigating the robbery in preparation for the trial.”

Over the next two hours, Taite got Wheeler’s account of events, drilling down to the smallest of details. “And you’re willing to testify against them in court? Point them out to the jury as the ones who robbed you?” she asked as she flipped the cover closed on the notebook.

“Yep. Those punks’ faces are burned in my memory.” He tapped a beefy finger against his temple. Big teeth flashed in a wide grin. “You get ‘em in court and I’ll nail their asses to the wall.”

She couldn’t resist returning his smile. “It’s a deal.” After tucking the notebook back into her purse, she flipped her wrist to check her watch. Almost six p.m. She had time to stop back at the office to debrief her boss–he rarely quit work before seven. She told Wheeler goodbye and left the store. Making sure she had her keys firmly in hand, two keys poking out between her fingers, she walked toward her car with quick steps.

A spot between her shoulder blades heated. She glanced around, but there was no one behind her. Just the same, she tucked one hand into her purse and curled her fingers around her can of pepper spray. There was no doubt in her mind someone was watching her.

Take a moment here to chat with me and be entered to win a copy of Daring the Moon.

Today, Silk And Shadows welcomes Erica Ridley, whose debut TOO WICKED TO KISS has a dark hero to die for. 

Breaking News: Win an autographed copy of Gothic historical TOO WICKED TO KISS this week only, just by answering the daily kiss question on Twitter #2w2k or Facebook!

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Although release day for my debut Gothic romance is Tuesday, March 2, today I received a text from a friend who saw a stack of copies on the new release table at Borders (!!!) and sent me a photo with her iPhone. So exciting! Too Wicked To Kiss is also a Barnes & Noble book club pick for the month of March, and I’m hoping to get news of 2W2K sightings in those stores soon, too. I’m also getting ready for my first-ever signing next week, at a local independent bookstore. Definitely a scrapbook moment! But enough about me… let me introduce you to the book!

I absolutely love the cover. I think the art department did a spectacular job at evoking both Gothic darkness and sensual romance. The back cover reads:

HIS TOUCH HOLDS HER CAPTIVE…

From the ravens circling its spires to the gargoyles adorning its roof, Blackberry Manor looms ominously over its rambling grounds. And behind its doors, amid the flickering shadows and secret passageways, danger lies in wait.

TO HIS EVERY DARK DESIRE…

Evangeline Pemberton has been invited to a party at the sprawling estate of reclusive Gavin Lioncroft, who is rumored to have murdered his parents. Initially, Gavin’s towering presence and brusque manner instill fear in Evangeline…until his rakish features and seductive attentions profoundly arouse her. But when a guest is murdered, Evangeline is torn. Could the man to whom she is so powerfully drawn, also be a ruthless killer?

TOO WICKED TO KISS

I had absolutely zero to do with the creation of the back cover copy, which turns out to be a good thing, because I think the copywriter did an amazing job at evoking the Gothic tone and hinting at the hero’s darkness.

The heroine’s first impression of his mansion does not exactly go over well:

Despite the tall arched ceiling with its bowed wooden beams curving at the creases like so many rib bones, the air was thick, heavy, oppressive, as if she had not stepped into the foyer of an aristocrat’s mansion, but a long forgotten sepulcher untouched by anything but death.

Were there no windows? Evangeline craned her neck to peer upward, just beneath the rafters. Ah, yes. Several. But not the kind to let in light.

The narrow slashes high above her head were the sort suited for medieval castles, for skilled archers to aim their deadly arrows at those who would trespass below, not for illuminating entryways for members of Polite Society. This evening, no archers crouched at the ready, just as no sun hung in the sky. Only the slipperiest, blackest of shadows filtered through the thin cracks to fall upon her upturned face like the cool caress of ghostly hands. The wisps of damp hair on Evangeline’s neck fluttered nervously, touched by a breeze she could not feel.

Nor does her first impression of the man himself:

He stood at the landing above the spiral stair, cloaked in shadow. Tall. Unnaturally so. Was it the angle, the skewed perspective of being so far beneath him? Or was his towering stature undeniable, evident in the width of his shoulders, the muscular length of his legs, the long pale fingers curved around the banister?

Evangeline swallowed a gasp.

Not because of the obsidian eyes framed by equally black lashes. Nor because of the angry slash of cheekbones, the flash of bared teeth, or the scar just above the edge of his jaw. Those things, though separately terrible, together formed a face of cold, cruel beauty. A face for statues, for frescoes, for—

Another flutter of orange light as he reached the final stair, and Evangeline could no longer breathe.

He was angry. Horribly angry. Livid. Enraged. Furious. His eyes glittered like a wolf’s because he was a wolf, a beautiful, powerful, violent wolf, prowling toward his unsuspecting prey.

Miss Evangeline Pemberton has her own dark secrets to keep, some of which are linked to the psychic abilities she’s tried so hard to hide–which is hard to do when she’s bombarded by visions and debilitating migraines at the slightest skin-to-skin touch. Before he discovers her secrets, the hero has his own unsettling encounters with the heroine:

For several long moments, Gavin watched her, unnerved by how still she held herself, how statue-like she posed. Her body was as lifeless and beautiful as an ivory sarcophagus molded in her image.

She stood so quiet and unmoving he might well have been in a room with two dead bodies. The unwelcome sensation of watching a pair of corpses had his muscles twitching in trepidation.

Gavin shifted his weight, uncomfortable in his own skin, even less comfortable with the motionless woman a few feet before him. Her fingers no longer shook, so frozen did she stand. He could not hear her breathing, even in the unnatural silence of the dank chamber. Her breasts no longer rose and fell. Even the folds of her gown held no ripples, no motion, as if they too were carved of stone and impervious to both breeze and life.

These two have a lot to deal with, but don’t worry–there’s still plenty of time for romance! Here’s a snippet from just before their first kiss:

He coasted his open mouth just above her flushed cheek, his breath steaming against the curve of her cheekbone, the dip below her earlobe, the length of her exposed neck.

Her body writhed between the hard wall and the even harder man before her. A sudden urge to force his lips upon her thrummed in her veins, but her dimming sense of self-preservation cautioned her to flee while she was still able.

You can read the full kiss scene on my blog at:
http://www.ericaridley.com/blog/2010/02/excerpt-monday-illicit-kisses/

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Erica will be hanging out at the blog today, so please leave comments! And don’t forget to check out the kiss contest on Facebook or Twitter and win an autographed copy of Gothic historical TOO WICKED TO KISS!

Get extra content and bonus features for Too Wicked To Kiss on the Unauthorized Scandal Sheet at: http://www.2wicked2kiss.com

For contest, blogs, embarrassing photos, and other fun stuff, check out Erica’s author web site at: http://www.ericaridley.com

Please join Erica for lots of games and prizes in the Facebook community at: http://www.facebook.com/EricaRidleyFans

And if you have Twitter, please come tweet with Erica at: http://www.twitter.com/EricaRidley

I’d like to welcome guest blogger Donna Grant to the Silk and Shadows site today. Donna is celebrating the December 29th release of Dangerous Highlander, the first book in her brand new series from St. Martin’s. Her Dark Sword series smoothly blends together magic, history, and hawt Highland heroes–who could ask for anything more?

First, thanks to the ladies of Silk and Shadows for having me!

I get asked a lot why I chose Druids for my new Dark Sword series. I find the legend of the Druids fascinating. There are so many conflicting accounts. Some records show the Druids to be spiritual leaders who helped heal the sick and gave counsel to kings and other leaders.

The Romans would have us believe they were the basest of humans who routinely sacrificed humans and animals in order to appease their pagan gods.

So who’s right? I don’t think we’ll ever know. We all know that whoever writes history controls history, so I think it’s safe to say Rome may have exaggerated a bit. Or maybe not.

It was the knowledge that the Druids could have been a mixture of any number of things that led me into more research into them. I find their culture fascinating, especially how it continues to this day.

In DANGEROUS HIGHLANDER, there are two different sects of Druids. I have the mies, or the good Druids who keep to their pure magic. They are one with nature. They heal, share their wisdom, and protect the innocent.

Then there are the droughs. The droughs are Druids who, upon their eighteenth year, undergo a ceremony where they give their blood and soul to evil thereby forfeiting all the good inside them. The evil takes over, and in doing so gives them a more powerful magic – black magic.

So how can the mies combat the droughs if the droughs have more powerful magic? That is a good question, and one I visit with every book of this series I write.

I’ll be giving away a signed copy of either MUTUAL DESIRE or THE PLEASURE OF HIS BED to a commenter. Happy Reading!

To find out more about me or my Dark Sword series, please visit my website at www.donnagrant.com.

hugs,
D

I got into this series because I loved the idea of a post-apocalyptic Red Riding Hood. I stayed because it’s gritty, dark, and fascinating. If you haven’t encountered the Dead World series before now, here’s your chance–Jordan is giving away a copy of Crimson to one commenter!

On the run from the law, Gina ‘Red’ Santiago and Sheriff Morgan Hunter continue their search for the proof needed to clear their names. Unfortunately, the danger doesn’t just lie in No-Man’s-Land. Someone near to them is about to betray them for the Other blood running through their veins.

Morgan’s and Red’s only option is to face the assault head on. With Roark, nothing is ever that easy, but they know two things he doesn’t: Love is worth dying for. And it’s never smart to corner a hungry wolf…

The End of a Series…

First off, I’d like to thank the Silk and Shadows gang for inviting me to blog here. I really appreciate the opportunity.

My third and final book, CRIMSON for my Dead World series came out on November 3rd. It’s a bittersweet moment when a series wraps. One side of me was excited to finally get the conclusion into readers’ hands, while the other side was sad that the tale was over. I was leaving the Dead World behind for new horizons.

Here’s a little background for those of you unfamiliar with my series. I wanted to write a retelling of Little Red Riding Hood, but with a twist. My premise was: What if Little Red Riding Hood and The Big Bad Wolf turned out to be the same person? I didn’t set out to make it a post-apocalyptic story, but the setting refused to budge. I knew I wanted werewolves, vampires, and other creatures in the books, but instead of going the magic route, I used ‘science’ to create them.

When I first started this series, it wasn’t a series at all. I’d written RED (book one) and had set it up as a stand-alone story. My editor at the time came back and asked if I could turn Red into a trilogy. I hadn’t thought about it beforehand—at least not consciously. I’d left a few loose ends open, but that was about it. Fortunately, the things I’d left open were enough to create a three book story arc. Originally, I’d planned to make SCARLET (book two) Raphael’s and Chaos’ story, but Red and Morgan, my heroine and hero wouldn’t cooperate. That’s why there are two love stories in book two that continue into book three.

Series books are fun in general to read and to write. They give both the author and the reader a chance to really get to know the characters after the ‘newness’ wears off. The Dead World series was the first series I’ve ever written that takes a couple, the hero and the heroine through all stages of their relationship. It’s not just the instant or not so instant attraction that occurs in the beginning, but what happens when the warts start to show. I really enjoyed being able to explore the relationships, which is why I’m a big fan of series books. I’d name my favorite authors, but we’d be here all night. *g*

To celebrate the release of Crimson I’m giving away one free copy.