Enemies to lovers?

 

Enemies to lovers. What does that even mean? I've seen multiple definitions. One is that the main characters are political enemies, but care for one another anyway. I've written lots of those. However, the more common definition seems to be that the two main characters start off with some friction between them before they grow to love one another.   Well, the next Spectra Crown Tales book will be my first to fit this second definition. Simon and Helena don't like each other when they meet. Simon thinks that she is beautiful but bad-tempered, while Helena finds him 'twitchy' and nervous, not to mention likely to ruin what little reputation she has.

The Seven Sages is based on a little-known fairytale called The Seven Simons, which you can read free here. With seven super-powered siblings, this one is ripe for more retellings and I hope to see more authors use it! The Seven Sages is on preorder right now, with a publication date of October 26!

The Spectra Crown Tales are a series of connected fairytale retellings. You don't need to read them in order, though there are connections between them. If you'd like to start at the beginning, the first Crowns Tale is The Seventh Clan.

Sneak peek:   Here is the opening scene of The Seven Sages:   SIMON KING COULD ONLY STARE in horror as the terra cotta jug slipped from his arms and shattered against the cobblestone road. He’d tried so hard to earn his uncle’s approval, loading the jugs into the carriage, and a single clumsy moment ruined everything. Sweat dripped down his face. Though spring had yet to arrive, the cool winter morning became uncomfortably warm after exercise. Normally he enjoyed the chance to be of service, but any enjoyment shattered with the jug.    At least the contents didn’t seem to be valuable. Dried wildflowers and fresh leaves scattered in a steady breeze, or lay trapped among the clay shards. They were too crumpled to impress a woman, and they didn’t smell like potpourri or seasonings. Bitter, if anything, with a hint of rotten eggs. Simon had no idea what his uncle wanted with such things.    The mansion door creaked open. Simon froze, then slowly turned around.    Uncle Rico stood framed in the doorway of Jaladi City’s largest mansion, tall and symmetrical with rows of windows passing judgment on the city street below. His red coat was impeccable, fitting for the King family. Through changing politics, wars won and lost, no matter Simon’s personal failings, his family remained on top.    Uncle Rico stepped up to the cart. “I have to deliver these to the castle. Clean up while I’m gone.”    “Of course, Uncle.”     Normally, Simon would ask to go. The crowds would notice how much Uncle Rico and Simon looked alike, though Uncle Rico’s blond hair was starting to turn white. Simon made sure that they wore it to the same length, just above the shoulders. He’d tried to grow a beard to match his uncle’s, but it came out wispy and awkward and at last he’d given up. Still, they looked like a matched set, as though they belonged together.  Uncle Rico climbed into the driver’s seat of the simple wooden cart and took the reins. He gave Simon a small nod, and started off.    With a sigh, Simon began to gather the shards, keeping the sharp edges from his fingers.     The mansion door opened again and the butler stepped out. “Careful, young Simon,” he said. “Let me, or at least wear gloves. Those are poisonous.”    Simon froze. “Poisonous?”     “Yes indeed. Those plants give off deadly gas when burned. The green leaves with them make sure that any fire makes a lot of smoke, and the tight jug will make the fumes spread.”    Simon stared at him. “You’re saying that my uncle made a smoke bomb?”

Updates:   The Spectra Crown Tales are a series of fairytale retellings with overlapping characters and settings, but different plots. For full book readers, Tale #5, The Seven Sages, will come out October 26th. On kindle vella, we're beginning Tale #6, The Cousin Curse.

Check out the Spectra Books website for more updates.

The Spectra Books all take place in the same fantasy world, where Spectra with elemental abilities are divided between six clans.  Find details, comparisons, and samples on The Spectra Books website.

 

Today is the day! The Centaur Choice is now published! I'll include a sneak peek below, along with this month's free book.

I'm excited to share this book with everyone! I've loved imagining what centaurs might be like, more realistically, and how horse behavior might affect them and how they see the world. It's also about grief, prejudice, and change, set in a world inspired by 1600's Mexico.   Everyone knows that centaurs carry off young women, but when Bree meets a stallion in the wilderness, he’s kinder and more interesting than any of the estate’s highborn visitors. He can’t be the monster that her brother describes. But Dale the centaur has a secret: he needs a young woman to transform into a centaur to save his young son. Clashes between the species grow, and both families are torn and broken. If they can grow past the piling tragedies, Bree and Dale could find the healing they need with each other.

For American readers, you can read the first ten "episodes" (about three chapters) completely free on kindle vella as The Centaur Chase.

Sneak peek:   Here's a scene of The Centaur Choice, published today!     “Hello?” Bree called.    A figure appeared out of the brush ahead—a tall man she didn’t recognize, with huge dark eyes that immediately captured her attention. His face was red, perhaps sunburned, but it didn’t detract from his good looks—a long face and pointed chin free from any type of beard.    Only when he looked away, scanning their surroundings, could she catch her breath. The stranger returned his gaze to her. He inclined his head, but his expression remained impassive.     “Are you lost?” he asked. His voice was rich and deep, and so quiet that she had to concentrate to pick out his words.    “No.” She glanced behind her, but saw nothing through the brush. “I was separated from the party, but they should be just over the slope.”    “I see.” He turned his horse straight toward her. Bree suddenly realized that he wore no shirt. She averted her eyes, too aware of her flaming face. She’d seen the estate laborers remove their shirts on a hot summer day, but Mama would be horrified to know that she hadn’t looked away. She supposed that explained the sunburns.    She should run. Laborers were rough and uncultured and she was not to go near them.    But he hadn’t grabbed her hand. He didn’t stare or make suggestive comments. Despite their nice clothing, Papa’s guests had been far rougher.    His horse’s hooves thumped slowly on the ground as he neared her. She found herself staring into his eyes, so brown they were almost black, with a mesmerizing depth she couldn’t describe. His black hair was shoulder length, sticking up in all directions and yet never hiding those incredible eyes.     He’d come nearer than she realized. She knew she was blushing but couldn’t look away.      “You shouldn’t be alone out here,” he said. “Why don’t you come home with me? You can meet my family.”    “Aren’t they at the estate?” Bree asked.    He cocked his head. “I don’t know what that means.”    She froze. He wasn’t one of her father’s laborers? Then he was a stranger. Strangers were even worse than laborers. But he sounded so polite, so concerned for her, not at all like the wild, dangerous men that Mama described.    He studied the brush again. Perhaps he was serious about predators. He never seemed to look at her for more than a few seconds, like a deer starting to suspect it was being watched.    She picked up the reins and nudged her mare forward. Dilly left the bush she was grazing on with a grumpy snort.    The stranger stared at Dilly. His eyes widened and he backed away.  He couldn’t be afraid of horses, since he was riding too. “What’s wrong?” Bree asked.    “Nothing. I must leave.” He eased away from her.    “Wait.” Bree scrambled to think of an excuse as she nudged Dilly forward.     The brush opened up into a clearing. Bree gasped. The stranger was not a man. She was staring at a centaur.

The Centaur Choice is the first book in a duology. The second half of the story, The Centaur Charge, will come out sometime next year. Don't want to wait? You can read one chapter at a time as I write them. Try The Centaur Chase on kindle vella!  Or check the Spectra Books website for updates.

The Spectra World master maps!

 

Summer is here! It's the perfect time to explore somewhere new! Sure, that might include a physical location, but I for one hope to explore a new fictional world as well. When I first designed a map for the Spectra world, I drew it on paper and then scanned it on the computer. That became my master map. Whenever an individual book calls for a map, I'll take a section of the master map and adapt it. Maybe I'll crop it to the relevant section, or take out some labels that aren't important to the specific story in question. I'll definitely dress it up a bit, and probably simplify the colors to remove some of the biomes. But, for you today, in all its rough glory, here is the Spectra Lands Master map!

Until recently, every book I've written has taken place on a piece of this map. However, my kindle vella story, The Centaur Chase, expands into the wider world besides this one continent. The Spectra Lands are inhabited mostly by the Spectra, elemental magic users, except for one corner inhabited by griffins. Each of the other continents in this world has its own magical species, whether human-ish like the wayfinders, animal-ish like the dragons, or a mix of the two like centaurs. I'm not sure when I'll expand into those continents, but I have a lot of room to play with!  Here's an even rougher map of where the different continents are. Note that this is just the western hemisphere. I imagine the eastern hemisphere to be more settled by humans, and there are plenty of books already that take place in that kind of world.

I hope you enjoy your adventures this summer, physical and fictional and everywhere in between!

On being quiet, social filters, and the enneagram

 At an activity a few weeks ago, I got up to speak and mentioned that I have a much easier time with public speaking (or writing) than with conversing. Part of that is because with public speaking, you usually don't have to interrupt anyone or impose yourself into another conversation. I've gotten to the point where I can answer questions pretty easily, but I still struggle to take the initiative-- when starting the conversation in the first place, bringing up a new topic, or remembering to ask questions back about the other person. Writing is especially nice because you can think about and edit your words before anyone sees them. 

At the activity, I also mentioned my social filters.

You know how some people say they have no filter when speaking? I have the opposite problem. If the thing I'd planned to say gets trapped in my filters, then I will stand there like a fish with a flapping mouth. For example, as a teen, I tried to tell my crush about a phrase that includes being naked. I literally could not speak. More recently, my aunt posed a critical question about my religion. My mind went completely blank-- I knew that I had explanations, but I could not think of them, much less share. Sometimes I can power through, but it takes a lot of effort. Worst is if I'm trying to show off while singing. The note will get stuck in filters and I will croak like a frog. I can sing in front of people usually, but if I'm specifically trying to show off, everything will crash. 

At this activity, one of my friends asked about my specific filters. I had to sit down to think about it. As I started to list potential filters, I noticed that my filters lined up with some of the enneagram types. So, naturally, I filled in the rest as well. These questions are subconscious. I'm not asking myself all of these questions as I speak, but the more these filters are triggered, the less I am able to respond. As mentioned, I can consciously power through only with a lot of effort.

So here are the nine filters, based off of the enneagram, a personality system that categorizes people into nine basic personality categories. I suspect that someone who identifies with a particular type will have an especially strong filter in that category, but people can have more than one. I'm a type 9 (though I also resonate with type 4), and I use every single one of these filters. I'd say that filter 9 is probably the one I use most often, followed by 2. 

1: Is the thing I want to say good/moral/correct? 

2: Could this hurt, offend, or even bore someone?

Note: Sometimes being quiet can be seen as selfish or not caring about what other people think. If the type 2 filter is in play, being quiet is exactly the opposite.

3. Is this socially acceptable? Could this limit my chances for success? 

4. Does this represent me as an individual?

5. Is this something that I know about and could speak more about if asked?

6. Would my authority figures (family, heroes, political or religious leaders) approve of this?

7. Could this limit future opportunities? 

Note: Thinking of a filter for type 7 was difficult. They're less likely to have social filters.

8. Could people take this as an invitation to intervene in my life?

9. Could this cause conflict? Could it invite aggression or ridicule?

So, there you have it. Next time you're talking with someone who suddenly goes quiet, they might have been stopped by a filter--or nine. If you're someone who lacks filters, maybe thinking about these questions before speaking might help you. Or not, who knows? 

April Fools?

 

I woke up at about 6 am this morning because my kids wanted to celebrate April Fool's Day, starting with setting off alarms on all of the phones/alarm clocks they could find. I dismantled a tripwire on the way to the bathroom and stepped over a Lego minefield. Then I told them a story I've heard at church about two boys who found shoes in a field. One wanted to pull a prank and hide the shoes, but the other instead hid some money in each shoe. Then they hid and watched. Their would-be victim was just as shocked. He looked all around but missed the two boys. Then he dropped to his knees and said a prayer of gratitude for money that his family badly needed, and the boys left feeling better about themselves. You know what would be even more shocking than being sprayed by the sink sprayer? Finding all of the dishes done. So, this is a challenge to find a "positive prank" to pull on someone today.  I suppose I should make this relevant to books, since that's what you've signed up for with this newsletter. In both stories I'm writing right now, I've enjoyed making the children age-appropriate. In The Centaur Chase on kindle vella, a centaur foal (2 and a half in human years), plays clapping games and accidentally knocks people over. In the next Spectra Crowns Tale (on vella and amazon), the 10 and 11-year-old boys are very closely based on my boys. I'll include a sneak peek of those shenanigans below.

Sneak Peek of THE SEVEN SIMONS:

A large brown shape hurtled through the air toward them. Simon leapt back. The shape landed in the pond in an explosion of water. Simon yelped as the cold shot through him. He wiped pond water from his eyes and tried to figure out what had just happened.  An enormous, full grown bosent sat in the middle of the pond, cow-like, but bigger and shaggier.  A pair of dark-haired boys, perhaps ten years old, pushed through the brush. Their gleaming white grins stood out on their tanned faces. “I had everything under control,” the taller one said.   “Bosent launcher, success!” the smaller cheered.  “A bosent launcher?” Simon repeated faintly.  A third child came out of the woods. She was older than the other two, perhaps fourteen, with long glossy black hair. “Did we make it? I thought my aim was a little...” She caught sight of Simon, squeaked, and ducked behind the nearest tree.  “You always make it!” one of the boys answered, as though she hadn’t just hidden. “Good shot, Larina!”  Robin, Simon's escort, grinned. “Meet my siblings, the youngest three Sages. Larina has perfect aim, Bracken fashions things from wood—like bosent launchers, apparently—and Finn controls water.”  “We’re not twins,” Finn said. Though he stood knee-deep in the pond, his cotton clothing was completely dry. “Everyone thinks we’re twins, but I’m seven seasons older.”  “Are they always this...” Simon gestured.  Robin nodded “They are always this.”