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Finding the cure for glitter rash one vampire at a time...

Tuesday, October 26, 2010

Tuesday blaaaahs...

Most people have contempt for Mondays.  Its a reminder of the end of the weekend.  Generally a day to do things that you put off on Friday. But Mondays don't really bother me. It's Tuesdays that really chap my ass.  I'm just bored and moving slowly.  I'm up to 32K on the newest project, which is great--- but I just wish I could get my ideas down faster.  And today I seem to be in slower motion than usual.  It all started this morning when I was so sleepy I just couldn't stand it.  I wanted to fall asleep standing up. Which is so stupid-- I got more sleep last night than usual.  Anyway-- thanks for listening to my blahs.  As a reward.. here's some of the WIP----->

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Sascha had been a slave at The Golden Goblet Tavern for nearly nine years.  Ever since her father had sold her to Mr. Longwillow just after her mother’s death.  And most of the time, she didn’t mind it too much, but putting up with Penny and Mr. Longwillow’s daughter Sera often became tiresome.  They were always ordering her around; finding the most horrid things for her to do:  scrubbing floors, swabbing out the outhouse, slopping the hogs-- all those things that no one else wanted to do.  And Mr. Longwillow, while he was a nice old man, never seemed to catch them in the act of being unkind.  Of course, he always believed their lies about her as well.  Too many times she’d found herself locked in the broom closet for her imagined infractions.  But such is the life of a slave in the village of Kaspar.  
Sascha moved in and out between the tables, wiping them clean of spilled ale and the occasional blood splatter.  It was pointless work, really.  Almost as soon as she was done, someone would come in and mess it all up again.  As if on cue, Sera shoved past Sascha, making her stumble over a chair.  “Careful, wench,” she said, a mocking smile on her lips.  “You’re in my way.”
Sascha glowered.  “How about looking where you’re going,” she replied in a low mumble.  
“What was that, slave?”  Sera whipped around, a threatening glow in her eyes.  
Sascha straightened up to her full height, staring at the other girl.  “I said, look where you’re going.”  She dropped the rag on the table beside them and balled her fists by her sides.  She wasn’t in the mood to deal with Sera’s wickedness today.
“You should watch your mouth, slave,” Sera snarled, though backing off slightly.  She knew all too well that Sascha could fight like a boy.  Many times in their childhoods had Sascha bloddied Sera’s nose.  And although she’d always been punished, Sera’s nose was still crooked.  
“Yeah,” Penny chimed in.  “Slaves with smart mouths get sent to Lord Marek.”  
Sascha opened her mouth to respond but at the mention of his name, the words died on her lips.  Lord Marek was the most feared man in all of Kaspar.  And with good reason.  He was the ruling entity in this village and that meant that his word was law.  He was rarely seen in town and when he was, he struck an imposing figure.  Standing at over six feet and towering above all the other men in town, his frame was bulky and solid from years of battles.  He had a mane of thick black hair that twisted and curved in unkempt waves all the way to his shoulder.  Beneath that tangle of hair, his golden eyes peered out, seeming to bore right into your soul.  On the rare occasions that he smiled, his lips parted to reveal too many pearl white teeth, highlighted by sharp canines.  But size and teeth aside, Marek was not a man to be trifled with and did not suffer fools.  Men who had foolishly ignited his rage rarely lived to tell the tale.  

Saturday, October 16, 2010

Happy Saturday Morning!

Once again its a bright Saturday morning-- enjoy it, folks.  Have some coffee on me.  If only I had coffee.  I'm staring longingly at the coffeepot and wishing that I had some filters.  Actually, I'm staring at the coffeepot and wishing I had a Starbucks in the backyard.  Anyway, its been a week since the release of Hellsong and I keep waiting to feel as if I'm really accomplished.  I really kind of don't.  I keep feeling like there's more that I should be doing.  More attempting to get the word out.  More walking up to random people on the street and saying "Hey-- wanna read an eBook?"  But it must be doing some good.  I've been told that I am, in fact, selling some copies.

That being said, its back to the grindstone with me.  I was hit with a blast of inspiration on Thursday and began writing Beauty and the Beast again.  Which is good, because I'm on the downhill side of that one.  30K and counting.  You all know how I love to count words.  As of right now the working title choices are:  Bound by Beauty (very S&M I feel) or Beauty Fades.  It's kind of frustrating for me not to have a title.  I've always been one of those people who needs to have a title to keep going.  Hellsong got its name fairly early on.  The voodoo project even has a title :  Love You to Death (after the Type O Negative song that inspired it).  I often find titles in songs, but for some reason, nothing seems to be fitting for the Beauty and the Beast project.  If you have any suggestions, I'll be glad to entertain them.  Remember-- I'm lexxx.christian@gmail.com   Anyway, have a great day, peeps.  Enjoy the crispy air of autumn!

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

BACK IN THE SADDLE!

OK.. I'm almost afraid to say it... but I think I've gotten through the writers' block on Beauty and the Beast. Which is bad news for the voodoo novel, but I'm glad I can go back to things after being away for a while. I'll keep you posted on the progress.

So.... anyone read that awesome Hellsong book yet?  :-)  I hear its a scream.  I joke, but I am so nervous that no one will be interested in reading it.  Others assure me that the very idea is ridiculous, but I just have this gnawing feeling that my baby is going to be ignored or passed over or not do anything at all.  *Shrug* I'm told that this is a normal feeling for authors and that it never really passes, but it does get some better.

On promotional news-- the big SL party is on Monday night and I am so not ready.  I have three more readings at least to record and send to the long-suffering DJ Wham.  But of course, I have friends in this week and Tally's storytelling festival (see further down the page), so I may be up at four in the morning recording in audacity.  When I get all the wavs done, I'll put them up here so anyone who wants can listen.

As for the storytelling festival--- Tally, the husband, has put together this fantastic Ghost Walk and Talk Festival at the Chester County Library this weekend.  It starts tomorrow and runs through Saturday afternoon.  There will be storytellers, ghost hunters, a ghost hunt, an amateur storyteller contest and more.  If you're in the Upstate South Carolina area, you should come out.  Send me a message on Facebook and I can tell you more if you're interested.  I'll also be there, so you can come yell at me about all the things I did wrong in Hellsong if you like.

And this concludes tonight's ramblings...

Saturday, October 9, 2010

SQUEEEEEEEE!!!!

Hey folks!  That's right-- the book releases today.  Go on over to Sugar and Spice Press and get your copy.  You can download it right to your computer in PDF or a number of eReader devices.  Or if you're more advanced, you can put it right there on you cell phone so you can read smut at work while no one is looking.  C'mon.... you know you want to.  All the cool kids are buying it....

By the way... I know there's no acknowledgements in the book, but I just wanted to thank a few people here in public so they know I love them.......  Tally, you are, as always, a constant source of inspiration for both the good guys and the bad.  Hey... the bad guys do the best smut.  Jayel and Sarah-- my sisters and best friends-- you've always been there for me and let me be the baby sister and I really appreciate it.  Susan-- my BEASTIE.  Your constant support and venting sessions and venti coffees have made my whole life better.  Thanks sweets!  Amy-- my redheaded vixen-- you're always there pushing me and telling me how awesome I am and I really need that.  Thanks for your help every step of the way, Grammatica.  Dahlia-- You have inspired me more than you can ever know.  Without you, I'd probably still be writing fan fiction.  Brie-- the world's most awesome editor.  Thanks for putting up with me and guiding me in the right direction, even when I fought you.  Last but not least, Mia, Lana and Wham, my SL faves-- you guys have been there in the middle of the night when I was crying over edits or worrying that no one would ever read this book and you put up with it every time.  Thanks for being my virtual shoulders.

OK.. now.. that's out of the way... I'm sure I forgot some people and if I did... I'm really sorry.  There's been so many that have made a mark on my life... it would be hard to remember them all in print.

Friday, October 8, 2010

Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow...

That's right, faithful readers--- tomorrow is the release date for Hellsong.  I'm just giddy with worry, excitement and anticipation.  I just want to know what other people think of it.  But then again, I'm scared of that too.  But seriously, I hope that everyone who buys a copy will enjoy it.  If I can bring a moment's pleasure to one person's life, I feel I've done my job.  That being said... here's today's excerpt------------>

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As anyone who lives there will tell you, New Orleans’s history can be divided into two 
parts—before the storm and after.  Since the storm, the entire atmosphere had changed.  It had 
been so alive, once upon a time.  A mystical land of Mardi Gras and magic beads.  Creole flavor 
and the underlying sense of mystery were all a thing of the past.  Before the storm, the hurricane 
was just a drink.  Its fruity sweetness spoiled with the taste of despair and ruin.  Once the spirit of 
a place had been lost, it was very difficult to retrieve it.  What used to be a passing friendliness 
with the dead had become near obsession.  Cemeteries were crowded, overflowing with mourn- 
ers of loved ones gone too soon.  Churches were more active than ever.  If Saraqael had chosen 
someplace else, perhaps his human bones wouldn’t be so exhausted.  But New Orleans had a de- 
cided advantage for him.   The veil was very thin here.  If one looked closely, he could almost 
see the wandering spirits, passing from all points in the ethereal plane.  

Saraqael was the last of his kind.  The Grigori were outcasts from Heaven and he was the 
only one to survive his position.  All of the others had become too in love with the idea of the hu- 
man condition.  Perhaps the only reason he had lasted this long was that he saw the human con- 
dition far too clearly.  It was true that they had a great capacity for love and compassion.  In fact, 
there were those who said the human race rivaled the angels in their ability to empathize.  But 
where there is love, so is there hate.  And that senseless loathing of one another that manifested 
itself in murder, rape, violence. That was why he had never succumbed to their charms.  Like the 
others before him, he had often longed for the companionship of another, but as the years passed, 
he knew that no human would ever be a suitable companion for the likes of him.  He would make 
himself content to watch over them, protect them like children, but never touch them.  

The blood of the demon he’d slain still stained his fingernails and he put his hands behind 
his back as he walked down the darkened street.  He didn’t want to be reminded of his earlier 
deed.  He kept his head down as he walked, trying not to make eye contact with anyone he met. 
He didn’t want to know what they were thinking.  

**************************

PS-- Don't forget-- release party at Flanagan's Pub in Second Life on Monday, Oct. 18th, 9-11 EST.  Shoot me a message in FB if you want to attend but have no idea how to get an avatar.

Wednesday, October 6, 2010

I See You Shiver with Antici----

PATION!  Hehe... Hey there folks.  Its Wednesday, Oct. 6th-- 3 days before the release of my first novel Hellsong (yeah, like you didn't know).  And boy, am I excited.  Publishing a novel is something I've always wanted to do and it really is like a childhood dream fulfilled.  Thanks to everyone who has made it possible.  And I won't bother naming names... I'm sure you know who you are.  But I'm so grateful to have such supportive family, friends and colleagues.

That being said-- if any of you faithful readers out there has a Second Life avatar, I will be reading portions of my book at Flanagan's Pub on Monday, October 18th from 9-11 EST (that's 6- 8 SLT).  In addition to readings, we'll be chatting, flirting and listening to my playlist while we dance our virtual asses off.  There's also going to be a costume contest with 1,000 Ls (that's lindens if you aren't a nerd) for the Best in Angel and Demon.  If you don't have an av, then go get one silly-- that's why I put the link up there.  If you do decide to seek us out-- I'm Scarlett Thirdborn-- just shoot me an IM when you get in world.

And without further ado--- here's today's teaser----------------------->

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Voices.  They were everywhere at once.  Deafening pleas and prayers from every corner 
of the universe.  It was as if he had an antenna on the top of his head that tuned him in to every radio station with perfect clarity every second of every day.  Sometimes he covered his ears, trying to block it out, but it never stopped.  They echoed in his sleep, softly at first and then screaming until he had no choice but to answer.  He'd always thought that one day he would get used to it, but in all his long years, it had never waned.  Through drink or drugs, he could quiet his mind enough to rest, but they were never silent.  He supposed that it was a fitting punishment for those of his persuasion.  
Saraqael lay in his bed, his head aching with the constant noise.  Most nights it was easier 
to block them out, but tonight was different.  Since the war had begun, the suffering on this 
world was great and he could hear all of it.  The gift of empathy was a curse and there were days he wished he could give it back.  “Shut up...” he sighed, crossing his arms over his face.  He knew that he wouldn't get any peace tonight so he may as well get up and get it over with.  

Monday, October 4, 2010

5 Days More...

Hello out there, my lovelies.  I  had a fantastic time at the beach for a little mini-vacation.  I even managed to get a little work done on the newest project.  All I can say is that there are voodoo spirits involved.  I seem to lack direction lately-- but I think I may be able to settle on this for a while.  My beastie says that I'm having this problem because I'm worried about the book release.  Which is probably true.  That being said... I owe you all some more teasing....

*****************

On the other side of the door, Saraqael hadn’t moved an inch.  He listened as she began filling up the bathtub and smiled, glad that she trusted him enough for the time being to stay the night.  The door was old and it wasn’t unusual for the damn thing to slip off the fastener and fall open.  As if by Divine intervention, it creaked open , allowing Saraqael to see inside.  He started, thinking that she was sure to notice that the door had opened.  His hand closed over the knob and he started to close it again , but as the steam began curling out through the crack, he could see the silhouette of her shoulder.  Her skin was pale and unblemished there, so much in fact, that, for a split second, Saraqael was sure that she was an angel, too.  He followed the line upward along the back of her neck to the tiny curled locks at the base of her head.  She reached back and grasped the end of her braid.  She pulled it  until her reddish hair tumbled down over her shoulders.  She shook it out, and stretched.  
He watched intently as her hands slid down her body and over her hips.  His eyes followed the gentle slope of her pelvis and down her leg.   His brain kept telling him to close the door, but he found that his body was disobeying.   It was a feeling that he couldn’t quite place.  Something primal that he’d never felt. A hunger that he knew would never be sated.  Something human.  His eyes drank her in greedily and he was desperate for more when she stepped to one side and the steam enveloped her again.  His fist clenched and released at his side as if he were fighting to keep from throwing the door open to go inside and touch her.  
         “Pipe down, Angel-boy,” he growled to himself, bringing his fist against his thigh as hard as he could.  The sharp bite of pain was enough to break the spell and he closed the door again as quietly as he could.  He leaned against it , trying to clear the haze of very human lust from his head.  “That’s not for you,” he chanted to himself, closing his eyes and remembering his promise.

Friday, October 1, 2010

One week, one day...

Yes, children.  One week and one day til the release of Hellsong!  I'm so excited I'm just about to burst.  I've been so high strung lately that my family insisted that I go on a weekend excursion to the beach.  They had to twist my arm, but eventually I gave in.  So I won't be posting again until Sunday.  BUT... knowing how faithful and demanding some of you are (and you know who you are)... I will give you a slow juicy tease.  C'mon... you know you want it...
*******************


“Dantalion.”  A voice from behind broke his reverie.  He turned to see a thin man in a three-piece suit staring at him.  He wasn't as tall as Dantalion, but most were not.  His hair was cut closely and, to a human, he must have looked like an accountant or dentist.  Only the crimson streaks that flashed in the irises of his eyes would give him away.  He flashed Dantalion a glimpse of his fiery wings as he approached.  
“Haures.  It’s been long since last we met.”
“That it has,” he replied, falling into step with Tal.  “What brings you here to the gates of Hell?”
“I'm just passing through.  It's not really safe for us to open a portal on the street, given the current climate.”
Haures smiled wickedly.  “Wars rage in the Outer Worlds.  It's bound to overlap. Though I've heard that you've been quite busy here in the land of the living.”
“Oh, really?”
“Of course.  This place is always awash with gossip.  Word has it that Lucifer is quite pleased with your talents.  Sees you as some sort of secret weapon.  Even despite your previous failures…”
Tal smirked, shaking his head.  “Perhaps you know more than I do, old friend.  You know Lucifer, he never tells one more than they need to know in the moment.”  The truth was, his purpose mattered little anymore.  He had been given a task and he would fulfill it.  Rumor had it that this girl was the final piece of the puzzle for Lucifer's little war.  Tal rolled his eyes, thinking of it.  It would rage forever and no one would ever be satisfied.   What were they fighting for anyway?  This cesspool of disease and hate?  No, thank you.  His only stake in that fight was revenge.  He would like nothing more than to see the crystalline spires of Heaven come crashing into the ocean, devoured by the flames of Hell. To be able to stand over a dying Heavenly Father and say, “I told you so.”
The two demons strolled through the doors at the end of the corridor and into the darkness of the nightclub. Tal winced again, the loud music hurting him.  Sometimes he hated this weakened human form.  Everything on Earth was too loud, too bright—too much—and his heightened senses couldn't take it.  Haures laughed at his friend.  “You really must learn to control your discomfort,” he shouted.  “If the Powers ever figure out our weaknesses down here…”
“I know.  They'll be after us with flashlights and speakers.”
“Among other things.”  Haures clapped him on the shoulder and led him through the dance floor.  The crowd seemed to boil, moving as one mass in their dance.  As they moved through them, the human women seemed to smell their scent and their thoughts were so loud that Tal laughed at their absurdity.  “What's so funny?”
“These women.  It's like they can smell us.”
“Ah yes... so many souls, so little time,” Haures purred, letting his fingertips drift across the shoulder of a petite blonde.  “You should stay a while and indulge yourself.”  Roughly, he grabbed the girl and pressed her body to his.  Instantly, she had a look of ecstasy and crumpled against the demon.  Haures  tasted her skin.  “This one is so ripe to give her soul, it’s almost too easy.”  He purred again and kissed at her throat.  “Can't you hear her thoughts?”
“Of course, but no, thank you.  It seems I have my own soul to steal.”  Tal turned, pushing the crowd out of his path as he made his way to the back.  Just as he reached the doors, he felt a hand on his shoulder.  He turned to see Haures pushing him into the small room and closing the door behind them.  
“Be very careful, my friend.  He knows you're here.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The Grigori.  He didn't get to be the last one here because he was stupid.  Lucifer has been trying to get at Saraqael for hundreds of thousands of years.  He chose you because you're the best, but if you screw up this time, you'll be down in the pits shoveling the lower devils' excrement with the rest of the damned.”