Man, I love putting together the anthologies. I love the challenge of writing to a specific prompt, and coming up with a story that not only works for the theme, but also (hopefully) that I like as well. For our latest, Under Her Protection, we were tasked with writing a fantasy story in which the hero was a woman tied in with a bit of romance. Sky’s the limit, right?
Sometimes men are the ones trapped in a tower, or bound by a curse, or doomed to stay in the underworld. Damsels or not, they need rescuing too. And these are just the women to do it… KD Sarge writes of a swordswoman and a scholar. Erin Zarro tells of a grim reaper and a dead man. Siri Paulson shares the tale of a maidservant and an inventor. Kit Campbell writes of a new university grad and a prince. Turtleduck Press proudly presents fantasy romance stories about strong women…and men who need their help.
Erin here. We’d like to introduce our new anthology, “Under Her Protection: Stories of Women to the Rescue,” which is now available. It’s filled with stories about…women to the rescue! At Turtleduck Press, we strive to twist things around and change stuff up. So, when we were planning this anthology, we thought about the traditional “damsel in distress” stories and thought, “what if the guy needed saving? And what kind of woman would be the one to save him?” And, naturally, sometimes saving someone comes with a bit of romance. And this anthology was born. Here’s what we have in store for you: KD Sarge’s “Guardian” tells the story of a scholar and a warrior who isn’t what she seems. My story, “Reaper Girl,” is about a grim reaper who accidentally reaps the soul from a man very much alive – and must fight the Underworld to get it back. Siri Paulson’s “The Raja and the Madman” tells the story of an inventor in a tower and the maidservant who befriends him. Kit Campbell’s “Drifting” is about a girl, unsatisfied with her life, who receives an odd letter about a Prince who has been cursed in a Faerie world – and an old family legend come to life. We feel these stories will stir your soul and touch your heart. As always, all proceeds will go to UNICEF. Where you can purchase our anthology: Amazon KindlePaperback EditionSmashwords
I’m told the saying originated in India–only mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the noonday sun. I love it because I’m always wondering at the people who just go about their business despite the heat. How? On Sunday it was a little cooler than it has been around here—the temperature only got up to 100°. It’s the monsoon, though, which means higher-than-usual humidity. That means my swamp cooler, which does a fine job in dryer times, struggled to keep the temp in the house below 90°. When it’s 90° in the house, there’s an awful lot of lying around being lazy going on. Sometimes I poke the cats, just to be sure they’re still with me. We utilize the usual coping strategies—watching movies with lots of snow, sitting on icepacks, keep the fans on high and all papers nailed down. Sometimes I browse realty listings in Alaska.
Here we are again with another progress report. This one covers April, May, and June. (For reference, here is my 2014 Manifesto I wrote back in January.) As it turned out, I got a lot of things done. Some are still in progress. But overall, I feel pretty darned good about it.
I have a secret, friends. I love learning. And more than that, I love school. Oh, sure, back in the day I loved my summers of freedom (though for several summers in high school my friends and I had a “Shakespearean Acting Troupe” which always started off as a real attempt to put on a Shakespearean play–roles assigned, scripts purchased, rehearsals mounted–but invariably ended as an excuse to make our parents let us hang out three times a week all summer), but there was also always something enticing about heading back in, with new classes and new subjects. College was a little different–more like the fun of learning had been drained out of it. When I look back at college, there were some classes that I remember, but more I remember what I did outside of class–crew, and more Shakespeare, and hijinks and camping trips and…
Imagine this: You are in a community hall. On the stage, a band is playing traditional folk music, led by a fiddler. In the hall, people are dancing until the wooden floor bounces — the whole room moving in unison. You are dancing with a partner, but you are also dancing with a whole line of other people at the same time, alternating between twosomes and foursomes and everybody. Onstage, a caller is shouting out the moves. But you’ve gone through the sequence several times and it’s in your body now, you can flow smoothly from one move to the next, your momentum carrying you and buoying you up.
Remember Dungeons and Dragons? When my big brother discovered it and taught it to me back in school, it was the best game ever. I’d liked rummy until I got too good at making my short-tempered little brother furious. I liked Trivial Pursuit but I could never win—I’d get all the pie pieces, then wander the board trying to get in the middle until someone passed me by to win. Monopoly always ended in my big brother owning EVERYTHING. Hey, if you had my brothers, you’d have a real problem with losing too. But D&D? We all played on the same team, working together to create something awesome—a campaign full of joy and anguish, excitement and satisfaction. It was like writing, only with people!
This is an odd one because you’d typically think that there’s no fear involved in gratitude or a positive attitude, but I’m here to tell you that there is. If you have clinical depression. If life always seems to kick you in the teeth. There’s a real fear there that things won’t ever change, so why bother torturing yourself with good, positive, grateful thoughts?
So last year I told you all about my adventures in starting my first real vegetable garden. This year? Not only are the vegetables back, but I’m madly researching flowers, shrubs, and trees. I have to admit I didn’t anticipate this when the subject of buying a house first came up between my life partner and me. At the time we were living in a generic high-rise apartment building. I envisioned purchasing a lovely old house with history and personality, with enough space for us each to claim a separate office room. Location was important. Public transit was important. A garden didn’t really enter into our priorities, or even our thoughts, beyond “oh yeah, we’ll have to mow our lawn.” We ended up with all those things, PLUS a large urban yard with nothing in it. 1250 square feet of fertile soil, almost twice the size of the one-bedroom apartment we’d lived in for years. Blank slate, wheeeeeee! Now, two years into home-ownership, we’ve become devoted plant-growers, enthusiastic and slightly less clueless than when we started. (Home-grown carrots? Best thing ever. Even when they’re shaped funny. Same for tomatoes, but I hadn’t realized how much I missed the taste of real carrots….) Honestly, I don’t quite know what hit me.