Anne McCaffrey: Gone Away, Gone Ahead

Anne McCaffrey: Gone Away, Gone Ahead by Maree Anderson (for Writers Gone Wild)

Hi all,

I was saddened to hear that one of my all-time favorite authors, Anne McCaffrey, passed away on Monday. She was 85, and passed away at her home that she'd called "Dragonhold" because it'd been "paid for by dragons".

Anne was probably best known for her Dragonriders of Pern series, which smacked traditional Science Fiction mores into orbit by combining elements of pure science fiction with fantasy. Here be dragons... literally!

I had no idea when I picked up Dragonflight, the first book of the Dragonriders series, that it was written in 1968! I would have been in my early twenties at the time I discovered her books, and to this day, more than two decades later, her books with their fantastical worlds and compelling characters, are beautiful examples of writing that for me, never seems to date. Little wonder I have an entire bookshelf devoted to her books.

Although I love the Dragonrider books, The Crystal Singer trilogy, and series that kicked off with The Rowan--among many others--my favorite Anne McCaffrey book still remains Restoree, which is incidentally the first novel she ever published, back in 1967.

I've read that Restoree was written as a "jab" at the way women were typically portrayed in science fiction stories. Anne remarked she was always reading about "women cowering in a corner, awaiting rescue by the hero". She found this objectionable: she would have been in there fighting!

The heroine of Restoree, Sara, is an "introverted, beak-nosed, 24-year-old virgin librarian from New York" who rescues both herself and the hero.

Here's the blurb for Restoree:

"She was walking in Central Park when it happened...

And afterwards... after it was over... she found she had a new and beautiful body... a new and beautiful face. She was apparently a nurse in a 'home' controlled by guards, doctors, drugs and barred windows. And she was taking care of a man who appeared to be an idiot. But Sara knew she was not a nurse, and that the man was not an idiot. In fact he was Harlan, Regent of Lothar...

But what--and where--was Lothar?"

Anne was a prolific writer, with a boundless imagination. You only need to cast your gaze down this list of her books to understand just how prolific and very talented she was.

As one of the authors on a writing group said, quoting directly from Anne's Dragonrider books: "She's gone away, gone ahead". How very fitting.

Rest in peace, Anne. You will be sorely missed.

Maree

No Holds Barred

First off, Happy Thanksgiving to all my friends south of the border! Yes, I realize it's tomorrow, but I didn't want to miss my chance.

I had another naughty Callie Croix release come out this past Monday. No Holds Barred is what I'm calling a vanilla menage with BDSM elements. It's a short, quick read, chock full of emotion and tenderness. Even if menage stories aren't your thing, this one might be okay. To be honest, I'm still shocked that it came out of my fingertips.

To keep everyone warm this holiday season, I'm giving away a PDF copy to a commenter here on WGW.

Here's the blurb:
During a playful talk about fantasies, Caitlin’s fiancé offers to give her a threesome—with his best friend, Liam, who’s coming to spend the weekend. At first Cait is shocked that Nathan could entertain the thought of sharing her with another man, but once he’s planted the idea her imagination runs wild, leaving her deeply aroused—yet still unsure about what the implications could be for her and Nate’s relationship.


Nathan’s watched Cait struggle to hide her attraction to Liam for years. He knows she’s nervous, but he also knows that by making her most intimate fantasies come true he can bring her to heights of pleasure she’s only imagined, and strengthen their bond. There’s only one way to help her overcome her inhibitions—by planning a night of ecstasy she’ll never forget…

Ha! What do you think of them apples? If you'd like to read an excerpt, you can find one here.

Happy holidays, everyone!

Thanksgiving: Part 2

Jennifer L Hart for Writers Gone Wild

Okay, I had something shallow and vapid about cover designed scheduled to post and then I read Gail's thanksgiving post and decided that I'm not that much of a tool and I should maintain the facade of being a decent human being.

(For the vapid cover design post see the Laundry List)

What I'm thankful for.

1) Steam fresh vegetables- Because I can always add a side dish of healthy fare to our dinner in under five minutes. This has come in particularly handy when I scorch the pot AND the steamer full of broccoli that we were supposed to have in the first place because I was struck with an idea I just had to write down during meal prep.

2) My husband is currently employed and we have health care with co pays. Because for parts of this past year he wasn't and we didn't. Then he was and then wasn't and then was, and then wasn't and health care without co pays is scary, especially when they charge $97.00 for a doctor to tell me to give my asthmatic child Claritin.

3.) Maree and Robin have helped me navigate cover design, thus enabling me to self-publish and collect awesome reviews on books that would have not been seen otherwise. And Rae Monet for designing Jenna's glorious website and the beautiful covers that make up for a lot! (See the latest here)

4.) Liane, Gail, Kaylea and Logan as well as Candi Wall and Courtney Sheets for taking time out of their extremely busy lives and beta reading for me.

5.) Saranna because she reads every damn thing I send her, good, bad and smutty, fixes it and asks for more. Who listens to me kvetch for hours and is still willing to be my roommate at RT.

6.) My children and husband who are happy and healthy and starting to get the idea that me writing means, unless you are on fire, you better not interrupt.

7.) And lastly, to all the people who have read one of my books. Thank you.

Gotta run before I scorch another pot.

THANKSGIVING - WHAT ELSE? ;-)

On Saturday I read an excerpt my friend Grace Greene posted from her debut inspirational romance, Beach Rental. In the opening, the heroine, Juli, is working as a waitress at a fancy schmancy catered party. She sees a man across the room and feels a pull of attraction. But he looks right through her. She’s a nobody to him, invisible. This realization triggers a panic attack that sends Juli running out into the garden, where she meets her future husband.

Shortly after reading this excerpt, I went to the commissary at Fort Sam Houston to do my normal weekly food shopping. Piss poor timing on my part, considering it was the last Saturday before our American Thanksgiving. The place was a zoo. I worried I’d be in line forever, but management was on top of the situation with a boatload of extra cashiers. I was out in near record time. As I directed the bagger to the aisle where I’d parked my car, I started planning the workout I’d do when I got home.

Then she said, “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

Say what? I looked at the middle-aged woman. I could swear I’d never seen her before in my life. She was a Juli to me, invisible. Shit! I’m a writer. I should notice things, and especially people.

I mumbled something about how I’d been shopping on Sundays lately. I was pretty sure she wasn’t fooled, but she tried to ease my discomfort by saying, “You probably don’t recognize me because I’m not wearing makeup.” She went on to explain that she’d been called in to work at the last minute and had rushed to get to the store for one of the biggest tipping days of the year (baggers work for tips only).

Then she mentioned that the holidays make her sad, because her husband, who died a little less than two years ago, loved them so much. They’d been married for 19 years. She reminded me of my friend W., a recent widow who’s struggling. My heart ached for them. At least my family is in good health.

We got to my car and I pointed. “That one.”

“Yes, I remember,” she answered, “the fancy one.”

Fancy? I love my car, a Mustang convertible, but it’s eight years old and I don’t think of it as fancy. I’d been wondering if I should paint it red, or replace it, even though it still has low mileage.

All this reminded me of how much I take for granted – how often I look at the hole instead of the donut. In the spirit of this week, I’ve decided to be more grateful.

For my day job, which isn’t perfect but puts good food on a very nice table.

For my family, who aren’t perfect but love me even though I’m not either.

For my car, which isn’t perfect but still makes me look like a hot chick in a convertible.

And for the people whose belief in me as a writer keeps me going when I’m having trouble believing in myself – my agent, Jill; the Sanibel Divas, Liane, Saranna, Jenna and Robin W.; the Uno’s Goddesses, Kate, Peggy and Robin K.; and of course the Writers Gone Wild. May your blessings and the turkey on your platters be abundant!

Ruby's Dream

RUBY'S DREAM By Maree Anderson (for Writers Gone Wild)

Hi all,

I'm celebrating the release of the second book in my Crystal Warriors paranormal romance series -- kinda. By "celebrate", I mean I put it up on Smashwords and took a break from writing for one whole day... before the need to write started to drive me crazy. Sad, huh? That muse of mine is a freaking slave-driver, I tell ya.

So while I wait for 1) premium distribution approval from Smashwords for Barnes & Noble et al, and 2) DH to find time to clean up my Word-generated html code so I can upload this new book to Amazon, I've brushed off another old manuscript and decided that I really like the story. Hence I'm making it my next writing project. Writers, huh? They just can't stay away from their computers.

But back to my latest release.

It's called RUBY'S DREAM and it's Ruby and Kyan's story.

If you've already read The Crystal Warrior, you might remember that Kyan was mentioned a couple of times. He's a kinsman of Wulf's, and a bit of a ladies man... as this excerpt from The Crystal Warrior shows:

Damn this land to Halja for eternity! If he stayed here much longer he would be in danger of becoming as weak and pliant as the females he and his men had captured.

He left his mount to graze, knowing the horse would not stray from such excellent fodder, and strode down from the hillock, calling for his Tehun-Leader. “Malach, have we filled our quota of females yet?”

The older man shook his head. “Not quite, Lord Keeper. This last village ought to be doing it.”

Wulf grunted. “Good. Then let us make haste so that we may depart this benighted land.”

“If I might make a suggestion, Lord Keeper?”

“Speak.”

“It has been noticed that Kyan is eyeing up one of captives.”

“What do my men say of this, Malach?”

“They say nothing. They merely bide their time to see whether or not Kyan will be permitted to take his pick.”

Wulf’s lip curled. “Like the priests, my kinsman has become overly concerned with his own comforts. Doubtless he bemoans the chill, and rather than riding into battle, he desires a female to warm his privates. If he does not take due care he will become a pathetic and sniveling coward—as are the men of this land.” He flexed the shoulder of his sword-arm, working a strained muscle.

Malach remained silent and Wulf allowed himself a moment of pride at the fearsome reputation he had so carefully cultivated amongst his peers. Men learned quickly to hold their tongues around the Lord Keeper of the Shifting Sands fief. One careless word would find a man on the wrong end of Wulf’s fist and leave him with his teeth rattling about in his skull—if he were fortunate.

“The females do not yet comprehend the truth of their situation and I would not have it said my men take advantage of their ignorance,” he said. “If Kyan harbors a fondness for one of them, then he will offer for her on the Choosing Block as is our way. He rides with us. See to it.”

“It shall be done, Lord Keeper.” Malach strode off to deliver his Lord’s orders.

Wulf watched his Tehun-Leader give the blond man the dressing down he deserved. Kyan’s hand drifted to his sword but Malach placed a cautionary hand on his arm.

Wulf met his kinsman’s gaze, unblinking. A silent battle of wills ensued until Kyan dropped his eyes. Then the man shrugged and grinned, appearing to shed his bad humor as easily as a sand-viper shed its skin. Pounding his fist over his heart, he gestured obeisance to his Lord Keeper.

Yep. That pretty much sums up Kyan... until he meets the woman he didn't know he needed, and she turns his life upside down *evil grin*

RUBY'S DREAM is set in New Zealand and all the characters are Kiwis, like me--except for my Crystal Warrior hero Kyan, of course. (Hence a handy-dandy glossary of New Zealand slang at the back of the book. Yanno, because I do have some funny turns of phrase that make my US friends snicker or wonder what the heck I'm talking about *g*)

Here's the blurb:

RUBY'S DREAM

By Maree Anderson

She’s a plus-sized woman with sub-zero self esteem. He’s a Crystal Warrior, and the gods’ gift to women. But for a chance at the Happy Ever After they both deserve, they must learn that appearances can be deceiving... and pass the Crystal Guardian’s test before time runs out for them both.

What’s worse than being plus-sized, boyfriend-less, and turning thirty? For Ruby, it’s getting The Worst Birthday Present Ever from the brother she adores. So other than scoffing chocolate, what’s a girl to do? Why, register for a triathlon of course. Only one problem—okay, two: she can’t swim or ride a bike. And she’s emailed all her friends and colleagues, so it’s too late to back out now.

Then her best friend gives Ruby a piece of kyanite crystal, and when she accidentally breaks it, she encounters the most beautiful man she’s ever seen in her life. He’s her dream man, a veritable leather-clad Adonis. The way he looks at her makes Ruby feel special–sexy even. Wow. Best birthday present ever! But hang on, how could someone like him possibly be attracted to someone like her?

Kyan can’t figure Ruby out, either. He knows only one way to get a woman out of his system, and that’s to seduce her. But making love to Ruby proves to be a big mistake. Now he wants more from her–perhaps more than Ruby is prepared to give. She’ll have to make the next move, though, because now Kyan’s learned about the curse that binds him to her, he refuses to be responsible for taking away her right to choose—even if it does mean he’ll be bound back to his hellish crystal.

By the time Ruby learns the disturbing truth about Kyan’s past, he’s embedded himself deep in her heart. She’s more than halfway in love with him—not that she’ll ever admit that for fear of a humiliating rejection. Still, she’s got plenty of time to sort through this mess, right? And then the Crystal Guardian intervenes, and Ruby realizes too late that time has run out for them both.

I'd also like to share the dedication with you. Because I didn't just write the character of Ruby as plus-sized on a whim:

"This one’s for any woman who’s ever cringed at the thought of buying a new swimsuit, or had someone tell her she should join a gym."

Yep. Been there, done that. Still carry the emotional scars and deal with low self-esteem to prove it. You gotta love being a "real" woman in this day an age, right? *wry grin*

You can read Kyan and Ruby's "first meeting" excerpt from Ruby's Dream by clicking this link -- just scroll down past the blurb.

And if you'd like to read a longer sample, (or make my day by buying the darn thing *g*), here's the link to Ruby's Dream on Smashwords.

That's it for me, folks. It's bum in seat and back to my rewrites.

See you in a fortnight... uh, make that two weeks!

Cheers

Maree

The Worst Kind of Writer's Block

While a bunch of you Wild Writers are off and running with your NaNo projects (and my hat's off to you, by the way), I'm stuck in the middle of my WIP. I've been stuck before because I wasn't sure how to make all the pieces in a book come together, or maybe I couldn't figure out what direction to take with a plot. This time, it's much more serious and therefore, troubling.

I have the worst kind of writer's block: Literary Constipation. Oh yes, it's real. Symptoms include staring at the blinking cursor in the middle of my Word document, knowing what is supposed to happen in the scene, but no words come to me. None.

Literally, I can't seem to even write a sentence. I know the characters, their GMC, I know that plot, but...nothing. I've gone beyond alarm into distress and am fast sinking into despair. This is book 2 of my Bagram Special Ops series, and I'm a third of the way through the draft. Readers have emailed me asking when it will be out. Angela James of Carina Press emailed to say they were very pleased with my numbers for Deadly Descent, and she hoped I would have another book ready for release in 2012.

Hello, the executive editor contacted me saying they wanted the next book, and I still can't write the damn thing. I'm not sure if it's because I question the structure of each sentence as I write it. (i.e. No, I can't use "and" that much--I'll have to change it so there are more "ing" words. I can't use "As" so much to start a sentence. Too many "then"s in this sentence.) Maybe it's because the plot is similar to the first book.

Doesn't really matter why I'm stuck, only that I am. So I'm asking you writers out there, what tricks do you have up your sleeve that help un-stick you in a WIP? Aside from starting another project. That's too easy, and I'd never get this baby finished. Got any tips?

A NaNo Uh Oh

Jennifer L Hart for Writers Gone Wild.

Yeah, I goofed big time on National Novel Writing Month. But since a goof has been my theme for most of this year, it isn't really all that surprising.

Instead of doing what I've done during every other national novel writing month for the past three years, which is start a new project and just roll with it, I decided in October to do my fifty thousand words on an already established project. Why? Well basically because I've started way too many this year and am feeling a little stretched. So, a few weeks ago I wrote out a synopsis for my work in progress, a mystery, which took me from my first inciting incident through the end of the book.

Problem was, well, that book was a hybrid mystery novel that had been rewritten and while the plot was solid the characters, especially my heroine, was somewhat schizophrenic. On the first of November I sat down and wrote out exactly what I needed to, 1667 words, which is the daily average to complete a 50,000 work draft in thirty days. Second day same thing, third day, same thing. You get the drift.

I was so obsessed with the numbers, I paid absolutely no attention to the story. It was easy to put away, I looked forward to putting it away. Essentially I had the, well it's good enough for government work mindset. Which meant the book sucked rotten eggs.

Yesterday, on day seven, I deleted my entire first week's worth of progress. 10K, gone. Because while I loved the events, the book was not my best. And if I can't do better than I've done before, what's the point in doing it?

So now, I've started over. 2300 words in today. And I could have done more but I now have a higher word count to maintain on a daily basis, and I find it's better to stop when I know what comes next than to burn out early on and then twiddle my thumbs the next day. I'm still aiming for 50 K of new material by the end of the month, I'm a pro, if I can't manage this, I don't deserve to be a full time writer. Because the whole point of Nano is not just to write 50,K in 30 days but writing 50 K in 30 days that you can then do something with after the word hangover dissipates, with the end goal being a book I love so much I want to read it again and so do my readers. Anything less isn't worth doing.

New Release: Imperial Haven

Today is moving day, so I'm cheating. I loaded a promo post in advance. Imperial Haven released on October 28th, and is the third book in my Mating Season series

Series: Mating Season
Title: Imperial Haven
ISBN : 978-1-60521-701-7
Genres: Paranormal, Futuristic
Themes: Shape shifters, Magic
Release Date: October 28th, 2011
Author: Anne Kane
http://www.annekane.com/

Publisher URL Changeling Press - Erotic Fiction

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BLURB:

Caitlin is a high-class data thief. She knows how to get in and out of a mark's house without detection, but this time something went wrong. Kyran not only caught her red-handed, tapping into his computer system, he also seems to think they have some kind of bond-mate thing going.
What's a girl to do when the bounty hunter you were stealing from turns out to be an Imperial Were-Panther with the hots for you?





EXCERPT:


Caitlyn peered around the edge of the railing and studied the ship in dock slip number eighty-seven. A long-range scouting vehicle, it belonged to a bounty hunter named Kyran. What kind of name was that anyways? Kyran? Sounded like a small parasite that the fish on her home planet feasted on.

Satisfied that the docking corridor was empty, she scurried over to the ship and held the sonar lock pick over the security box. It hummed for a few seconds before a soft click let her know the lock was now disarmed. Pocketing the small device, she slid open the heavy outer hatch and entered the spaceship.

Inside, the layout looked exactly as her research had led her to expect. The Mark IV was a popular vehicle, noted for its reliability and low energy consumption. Corridors branched off in two directions from where she stood. The one on the right should lead to the crew quarters and galley, while the one on the left headed to the bridge and all of the computer equipment.

Caitlyn headed left. Talk about a sweet deal. She just needed to locate Mr. Bounty Hunter’s main files and download a copy of the new engine specs he’d been bragging about in the Spaceport tavern last nightfall. Her client was offering big bucks for them, and she could use a fat commission right about now. What with the government lackeys declaring a galaxy-wide crackdown on smuggling, the data theft business hadn’t been so good lately.

She’d been stealing data almost as long as she’d been breathing the rarified oxygen that passed for an atmosphere on the mining droids. She’d discovered early on that her small stature and innocent face were assets she could exploit. The space enforcers had never even come close to catching her. Once she’d started working data dumps on a regular basis, she’d set up a double blind drop system to make sure even the clients didn’t see who she was.

When she turned the corner, the corridor widened out to the bridge. She stopped, staring around in admiration. The walls were sheets of polished titanium, glowing richly in the low light of the ship’s systems. A state-of-the-art pilot’s chair sat dead center of the room, overlooking the navigation and communication station. A complicated array of computer banks lined the walls to the left, and she headed toward them. The info she needed would be stored somewhere in their hard drives.

An unfamiliar chill slithered down her back, and she turned to study the room carefully. Nothing but empty space greeted her, and she shrugged, turning back to the task at hand. She needed to take a break, maybe after this job. Her nerves were shot. The heist last month had gone badly, leaving a sour taste in her mouth, and now she was sensing things that weren’t there. Not good. In this job, you needed nerves of steel.

Spying an access terminal, she glided across the room and pulled her mane of golden hair aside to expose the input jack just behind her ear. Plugging one end of the download cable into it, she slid the receiver into the data port.

Images immediately flooded through the link, blinding her with their sheer volume, and she closed her eyes to concentrate. It took a few minutes to bring the flow under control so she could sort through it, looking for the plans that she wanted. This was the mind-numbingly boring part.

The bounty hunter was organized, she’d give him that. The data banks were neatly arranged, information stacked by subject. She skimmed past star charts and weapons schematics, financial data and the ship’s supply logs. The man kept records of everything!

She found the technical data stored in the back corner of the drive, and began the tedious job of scanning each string of code. It had to be in here somewhere, and when she found it her money troubles would be over. At least for now.

The bounty hunter came out of nowhere, grasping her wrists and snapping on the magnetic cuffs before she had time to react and pull her consciousness out of the computer banks. He pulled her arms up over her head, and the magnetic cuffs snapped into position against the metal frame of the ship, leaving her standing spread-eagled in front of him. With a sardonic grin, he reached up to pull the download cable out of the jack in her head. She felt so incredibly helpless, not something she had a lot of experience with.

She looked up the long muscular length of her captor’s sculpted body. In person, he looked a whole lot more intimidating than he had in the vid pic she’d dug up on the station’s news feed. At least six and a half feet tall, his skintight uni-suit did nothing to hide the sleek ropes of muscle that rippled across his massive chest. Dark hair hung to his shoulders and framed a face more rugged than handsome.

His eyes, though, were what held her attention. Dark as a Zargonian night sky and with swirling hazel streaks, they sent shivers of lust dancing up her spine. She should be terrified, but all her treacherous mind could think of was how good his hands would feel on her naked body.

“Looking for something?” His voice was deep and husky, the kind of voice that could make the meteor report sound sexy.


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Why November gives me Bookgasms.

NaNoWriMo...My DD's Birthday...Thanksgiving...Black Friday with my best friend...November is most likely the most busiest and most fun packed month for me--except that I don't do NaNoWriMo. Do I look crazy? Well, perhaps...

I have to say, though, of all the wonderful things packed into the month, my favorite thing of all (yes, even above my DD's birthday) in the Penguin Warehouse Booksale held in Conklin, NY.

What, you may ask, is the PWB?  Why, it's the very essence of supercalifragalisticexpialidosciousness. It also seems to be the Southern Tier of NY's best kept secret. Imagine a warehouse filled with books of all types and formats, all at 90% or more off the cover price. Romance, Sci Fi, Cooking, Books on CD, baby board, gift packs; anything published by Penguin is in there just waiting to be brought home.

Preparing for the sale is akin to getting ready for a survival hike. You have to pack food and water, wear layers (the line often wraps around the building and the wait to get in can take hours), have a list made of all the people you want to buy for, and most importantly, have some way to carry all of your goodies. Year 1, I had a backpack. Foolish, foolish girl. It soon had to be supplemented with two cardboard boxes when it couldn't hold all of my treasures, and by the end of the day, the straps broke (total spent, $97. Remember, this was 90% off, so you do the math for the retail.)

Year 2, I changed tactics--I did not go on opening day, but rather one of the weekday nights they are open towards the end of the week. I had my Hubby and Kids, and we used strollers with book bags hanging off the handles. By the end of the night, the kids had been usurped by books, and they were sitting on the floor reading from a large pile they picked out. There were much fewer people (about 1/3--still full, but not as suffocating as opening day) and the choice of books were quite satisfying. My extra special surprise--all paperbacks were 2 for $1. I squealed with happiness. Really, my whole body quivered and I just made this high pitched sound of absolute joy. I call it a Bookgasm. I was able to buy my best friend the whole Sookie Stackhouse series for under $10.

This is Year 3. I am going towards the end of the week, and the whole family is going once again. More than anything, I wish I had a folding shopping cart. Since we don't have that, we are bringing our double stroller and a large rolling suitcase. DD and DS are putting money in their piggy banks for the "huge book sale" and we are crossing off the days until the start.

So if you happen to live ANYWHERE near Binghamton, NY, I have a place for you to be November 12, and then November 14-19--in the former Maines Warehouse in Conkin, NY (it's on Terrace Drive). If there is anything you want me to pick up for you, shoot me comment. The books are so cheap, I'll happily send it over to you!