Fey Touched

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Two sisters.

Asha is the Queen of the Fey, genetically engineered immortal humans who feed on human souls to survive. But she’s running from her people. When she is found by her enemy, one of the Hunters of the Fey, she expects to die. Yet he’s oddly intrigued by her, and Asha finds herself falling in love with him, hoping she can find safety and the home she’s been seeking. Then she’s kidnapped, and everything changes.

Fallon is a Hunter. She’s looking for her long-lost sister, using an addictive drug to search through the stream of time. Her addiction leaves her dangerously exposed to her enemies but, consumed by her search, she doesn’t care…until her fellow Hunters start dying from a mysterious illness. She is torn between …

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Solitude and a Solid Piece of Furniture

 

My desk has been through a lot. It’s a great big computer-tower cabinet on one side, file drawer on the other, full hutch on top, desk. I bought it to put my first Dell on, some nine years ago.

I put it together myself, in the extra room we made my office. If you were to look closely you could probably guess I did it alone, though I mostly followed the directions. I’ll tell you—electric screwdrivers are worth the money. I wished for days that I’d had one.

I’ve moved this behemoth—well, moved houses twice. Moved among rooms two or three times more. I’ve dumped coffee on it and shoved cats off it and once my neighbor pushed it down a flight of stairs.

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The Many Shades of Success

 

My writer-friend SM Reine  recently blogged about her definition of success.  And I thought I’d weigh in.

I used to think that unless I had an agent and a publication contract in hand (especially with that large advance), I was a failure.  I was doomed to remain unpublished and unknown, toiling away in my office, my work never seeing the light of day.  I was terrified that I’d die before my work ever became known, and my existence on this Earth nothing more than a blip of…nothing.

Why yes, I was quite morbid and depressing (it’s a gift).

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Detox from Routine

As I write this, it’s Monday. Before today, I haven’t touched my computer since Thursday — and I can’t even remember the last time I’ve been away from a computer for that long. Even my vacations usually involve a lot of writing. If not, they involve reading…and I think I’ve read all of one chapter during this time.

This weekend hasn’t been a vacation. I moved on Friday — from an apartment into a house. It’s been a massive amount of work, with the occasional snag to keep things interesting. There have been literal blood, sweat, and tears. There’s an errands list that’s getting longer instead of shorter. My feet hurt.

But.

 

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