A to Z Challenge, Day 15: O Is For Opa

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Ha.  Not that opa!  I looked on Lolcats for an image to use in my post today.  In German, opa is a term for grandpa; but popular culture has done it again and created a totally different meaning.  And not the one I anticipated – opa is also something one shouts in a Greek restaurant as a toast.

But the cat made me laugh, ergo, he’s today’s maskot.

None of which has anything to do with why I’m writing today!  (Pre-coffee and you get me off track. ~grin~)  In our short story, “Seeking Hearts,” we feature opa and oma, the main characters grandparents.  We had fun with these two, because they’re at an age where they don’t much care what other people think about them and their grandson is old enough to take care of himself.  Oma rescues an animal that becomes her pet and opa placidly goes along.

Opa made caffa tea while Oma hummed as she prepared some food. The heady aroma of grains with spices filled Rik’s nose and his stomach growled. He served himself and Marc large bowls and set them on the table.

Rik watched Oma’s hands fly over the cutting board. Her age did not dull her skill with the sharp blade. Cubes of raw meat precisely squared lined up on the edge.

He frowned and gazed at his porridge. Oma did like to experiment with her cooking. He stirred, his spoon searching for odd lumps. Nothing.

“Oma, are we having stew for lunch?”

“No, dearie, it’s much to warm for that. Why?”

“Wondering why you were cutting the meat.”

“Oh, it’s for Rocky.” Her wrinkled face beamed with pleasure. “He knows his name now and even comes when called.”

When you grow to be a grandparent, or if you’re there already, what will you do?  Travel the world?  Adopt homeless pets?  Terrorize your grandchildren?

A to Z Challenge, Day 14: N Is For Neal

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Your first love.  You’ll always have that special place in your heart for your first one.  Rachel and I wrote Burning Bright and I pitched it at my first writing conference, before I even knew what pitching a book really meant.  I knew business, of course, and that books are business, but somehow the concept of pitching a creative project made my knees turn to water.

Neal Harrison is the hero of Burning Bright.  An ex-Marine, he brought the survivors of his unit back from the mountains of Tora Bora after an operation to find Bin Laden failed and they found something far more deadly:  a Siberian tiger shifter, half-mad with blood-lust and the desire for revenge.  Left behind by the Soviet invaders, he attacked the Americans with a fervor that no one anticipated and wiped out a highly-trained squad of Marine Reconnaissance fighters.

Neal decided to open a restaurant called The Factory.  As business grew, he expanded to a gay bondage club downstairs, called The Basement.  In the process of writing the story, we needed to know where things were in the physical space that made up both businesses.  We scouted around the city so Rachel could get an idea of common building construction here, and we found a candidate (the real building that houses our imaginary restaurant is located not far from my house, as a matter of fact).  Then it was time to get down to business and draw out the space itself.

Doing this allows us to mark where things happen in the books, to develop a more clear idea of the space, and also keep stuff straight while we’re writing – and when we go back, months later, to edit a project.

What are your favorite “tools of the trade” for whatever hobby or avocation you pursue?

A to Z Challenge, Day 13: M Is For Mitch

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Our next book in the Chicagoland Shifters will shift focus from Doc to Mitchell Brayden, one of the tigers in Neal’s unit.  A smartass tough guy, Mitch doesn’t seem like the kind to settle down.  But when he meets Lupe Salazar, his wandering days might be over for good.

He got out a clean-ish t-shirt and some shorts and ruffled his hair. A brief detour in the bathroom took care of everything including his teeth and he emerged to find Mitch talking to TJ.

Jealously flared through him so fast he almost felt dizzy.

“Mornin’,” TJ drawled, sipping from what looked like a brand-spanking clean coffee mug.

“Yeah. What are you doing here?”

TJ did a slow blink and set the Sports Illustrated down. “If I say drinkin’ coffee, you gonna kick my ass?”

“I might,” Mitch shot back.

“Here,” Lupe interrupted, thrusting another clean mug filled with black stuff at him. “Drink. Sit. I cook.”

“‘Drink, sit, I cook,’ huh,” Mitch echoed. He sat. “You do windows?”

“Why? You need them washed?” Lupe asked, craning his head around to peer at them.

Mitch laughed. “Slow down, dude! I’m just kidding!”

Lupe shrugged. “I make eggs and bacon. American breakfast. You like this?”

“I like this,” Mitch told him, grinning.

TJ kicked him under the table.

“What the fuck?” he growled, glaring.

TJ tipped his head at Lupe, like he meant it.

Christ. Worse than a fucking wife, TJ. “What can I do to help, Lupe?”

TJ smiled slightly.

Ass hat.

“Nothing, Mitch. You just relax, let Lupe make food. I clean dishes too.”

“You… dude, you don’t have to do that!”

“Is already done,” Lupe told him.

TJ looked up, and then over at the sink. He frowned and squinted at Mitch.

Like he was supposed to get it.

“Lupe, you don’t have to do the dishes, man,” Mitch told him.

“You said I’m yours, Mitch. I do the dishes.”

He went cold. “Lupe – ”

“Is okay, Mitch. You have a dishwasher.”

His eyebrows went all the way up his forehead and tried to climb clear off his head. “Um…”

TJ stared at him, his face reflecting Mitch’s shock. Mitch shrugged. TJ glanced at Lupe. “Don’t take advantage.”

“Dude!” Mitch protested.

TJ sighed. “Too late?”

Heat flared into Mitch’s face from a blush and he glared at TJ.

TJ just snorted and drank his coffee.

“Toast!” Mitch blurted, and shot to his feet.

“What?” Lupe asked, looking over from the skillet.

Fuck, but it smelled good.

“I’ll make us some toast,” Mitch told him. “You do that, and I’ll… um… I’ll do this…” He trailed off, feeling lame.

“Good idea, there, cowboy,” TJ murmured from behind him.

“Thanks,” Mitch said acidly.

A to Z Challenge, Day 12: L Is For Llamu

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Yup.  Llamu.  Nope, it’s not a typo.  Llamu, or the plural “llamu,” (yes, it’s the same), are an indigenous animal on the planet Persis, where our book EMERALD KEEP is set.  See, here’s how it happened.

The settlers that came to Persis generations ago traveled with livestock embryos so they could, when they found a hospitable planet, have a source of food and fiber.  Alpaca and sheep were some of the animals in the library of genetic material, and sheep couldn’t survive the harsh desert climate.  Alpaca could.  (Hey.  It’s our world, we can bend science how we want to.)  One of the native species reminded the settlers of llamas and alpaca, and thus they became llamu – large animals, bred for their placid personalities and ability to pull heavy carts full of cargo.

Like all animals native to Persis, llamu have the characteristic long proboscis with which they can dig below the ever-present layer of sand to the moisture-rich moss plants (similar to ice plants but without chlorophyll).

Now, those of you who have been reading us for a little while will know we love to do our research.  While doing said research, we like to travel, take lots of photographs, and wander around.  In the course of a writers retreat with our organization, Writer Zen Garden, (which, shameless plug, is open to anyone over 18 to join and has an online forum with members from around the world), we happened upon a farm in Utah that had livestock.

For the record, and to once and for all end the discussion,

THEY WERE ALPACA.

And because I love you, Dear Reader, here are the links for the Writer Zen Garden:

What’s your favorite livestock animal? 

A to Z Challenge, Day 11: K Is For King

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Coming later this year from LooseId LLC, our book currently titled Bound By Fire features a villainous sorcerer by the name of King.  What’s fun writing about villains is that we get to give them all the worst character traits that we see in everyday life.  There’s something cathartic about writing about villains and their punishment.

Here’s a snippet from the very beginning of the book, where we introduce King and our hero, the young sorcerer’s apprentice, Vanya Demidov.

Vanya tried to swallow but his throat burned from the smoke. Mr. King called it ‘incense,’ but it stank – some sticky sweet something-or-other he found at an occult shop.

“Get on the altar.” King’s voice sounded more harsh than usual, as though his excitement made him want to yell at Vanya.

The stone surface burned with cold and Vanya’s skin flinched from it. Already nude, his ass muscles threatened to cramp as he sat down. He tried to ignore the chill crawling up his crack toward his balls and squeezed his legs together to protect himself.

“Now lie back.”

“What?”

King’s hand whipped across Vanya’s face. It hurt, heavy and stinging, but more, the look in King’s brown eyes brought bile to Vanya’s throat.

“Don’t argue with me, boy. Lie back!”

King clenched his hand in the air and pain erupted along Vanya’s skin from his neck to his balls. He smacked his elbow on the stone’s edge in his haste to lie flat. His voice, begging for mercy, got drowned by King’s chanting and a rushing sound grew in Vanya’s ears.

Smoke from the brazier on the far end of the altar, near Vanya’s feet, filled the air. It billowed in a black cloud and boiled like a storm, writhing in midair. It slithered, snakelike, to the right and down toward Vanya’s body.

But when Vanya tried to move, his body lay like iron enclosed it.

“Master, please!” Vanya’s muscles cramped from the effort of moving, all to no avail. “Please, I can’t move.”

The steady chanting continued without break and Vanya caught enough of the Latin to understand the invocation called on the Element of Fire.

His stomach jolted. Not the Element of Fire. A fire elemental. And King offered Vanya as the sacrifice.

Vanya threw everything he had into his struggle. He screamed, over and over, but King didn’t stop his steady chant. Even Vanya’s terrified sobs did nothing to move him. Vanya’s body, exhausted, stopped finally, and he lay against the stone with tears on his face and sweat drying on his skin.

“Ignatius, I summon thee.” King’s voice sounded triumphant and assured of itself. He lowered a lit candle into an iron dish on the small altar in front of him, his eyes on the candle’s flame.

Then all hell broke loose.

The bowl exploded and took half the table with it. King shrieked and clapped a hand to his face, blood oozing from between his fingers. The table toppled, moving slowly, and spilled all the carefully prepared objects every-which-way across the stone floor. The spell holding Vanya to the table evaporated like a soap bubble but King didn’t seem to be looking at him.

Without warning, King scrambled for the hidden door, pushing it open and rushing outside without looking back.

Who is your favorite movie or literary villain?

A to Z Challenge, Day 10: J Is For… Jay!

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We talked a little about our short story with Torquere Press, “Taking a Chance,” last week when it was time for “C.”  Today it’s time for Jay, the hero of our little tale – and we decided to share a little teaser:

“Scott, what are you mad about?” Dr. Jacob Davison rubbed his stomach and fought off the queasiness. “I texted you that things were running late. And I apologized for making you wait for me.”

Scott grimaced, flexing his hands on the wheel of the Mercedes. “It’s hot out. I almost ran out of gas running my AC continually. You said it would be done at four.”

“They put out an open call. Anyone could come to get their photos taken for NOH8. The more support for this cause, the better.”

Scott waved his hand, causing the car to swerve. “But why didn’t you just leave?”

Jay swallowed, trying to contain his upset stomach. Scott’s attitude didn’t help him any. “I signed up to volunteer. I wasn’t going to leave.” He paused. “You could’ve come in.”

Scott snorted. “And do what?”

“Socialize, have a snow cone, get your photo taken.”

“I’m not a flag waver, like you.”

“I didn’t suggest walking in a parade. Michelle was there helping out, as well. You could have met her; she’s heard all about you.”

“What do you mean?”

“She’s my friend. Of course she knows about you.”

“So, you’ve told a lot of people about us?” Scott’s gaze slid sideways at him.

Jay frowned. “Well, yeah. It’s not like I keep that you’re my boyfriend a secret.”

“Everyone at the hospital, too?”

“I’m out there, why?” Jay’s stomach churned, telling him that having those three snow cones on an empty stomach with only coffee first had been a bad idea. Another reason caused his physical distress, though — Scott’s odd reactions during their conversation. He turned in his seat to watch Scott’s face. “Your friends and coworkers know about us, too, right?”

Scott stared at the road, but the car swerved again.

Jay’s acid stomach soured as suspicions started to pile up. “Are you still in the closet?”

“It’s just for my work. I deal with a lot of ‘good old boys’ and am expected to flirt with female clients.”

“I’m not going to be your dirty secret or your booty call.” Jay’s stomach flipped. “Damn it, pull over, I’m going to be sick.”

“Not on my leather upholstery!”

The car lurched to the side of the road, not helping Jay keep control of his queasiness. Jay staggered from the car and emptied his stomach in the grass. When he straightened, Jay stared around in shock.

Only empty road filled his vision. Scott and his gleaming Mercedes were nowhere in sight.

For more, check out “Taking a Chance,” available from Torquere Press.  See you back here tomorrow, for K Is For King!

A to Z Challenge, Day 9: I Is For Island

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Goose Island, Chicago, Illinois.  An actual island, it’s located in the middle of the city of Chicago and has several large bridges for access.  There’s no residential property on the island itself, just lots and lots of light industrial and warehousing.  It’s a shame, really, because it’s a neat location close to downtown and in the midst of an urban renaissance.

In researching a forthcoming book, Rachel and I went to Goose Island and wandered up and down the streets, peering at the map and stopping the car in the middle of deserted streets to stare up at deserted buildings.

It wasn’t completely deserted, though.  One car, with livery plates (meaning he was driving a limo for hire) waited by a sidewalk next to an empty warehouse.  The driver got out, went around to his trunk, got something out or put something in – we’re not sure which – and then watched us with no expression on his face at all.  He looked like James Gandolfini in the Sopranos.  Rachel wanted to take his picture but, come on, he might BE James Gandolfini in the Sopranos!

What geographic locations have caught your fancy, either as an armchair traveler or in person?

A to Z Challenge, Day 8: H Is For Hard Work

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The definition of what is hard evolves over time.  When you’re a baby and you learn to walk, it’s really hard.  Then you grow older and it’s time to learn to drive – STAY OFF THE SIDEWALK!  When you leave home for the last time, and set up your own household, that’s pretty darned hard too – and there’s no maid to clean up after you.  Remember the first time you came home to a mess and were disgusted with yourself?

No?  Come on now.

But with writing, some of that “hard” isn’t, because we’re passionate about it.  We write because we’re driven to, because we need to get the story out.  We write because, at the end of the day, we are writers.

What “hard work” do you find yourself doing without realizing that it is hard?

A to Z Blogging Challenge, Day 7: G Is For Galley

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Not that kind of galley.  A book galley!

What is a galley?  Once your book is all done and the edits are completed, the publisher sends you a galley to review prior the book goes to press you get one more look at it to make sure everything looks good.  The purpose of this review period isn’t to rearrange passages or refine grammar, it’s to check spelling and simplistic mistakes so that they don’t end up on the page.

When we have done galleys, it’s a very strict process.  You indicate the page number, the paragraph number and then the word or words that need to be corrected.  They’re done with a pretty quick turnaround.

What’s your favorite part of your hobby?

A to Z Blogging Challenge, Day 6: F Is For Facebook

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So, there’s this phenomenon called Facebook.  Studies have consistently shown that across every demographic, from Millennials to Boomers, of the people that use social media, over 80% of those people use Facebook.  So, it’s critical to a social media plan, right?

We launched the Noon and Wilder Facebook Page March 16, 2011.  This year, we turned 3!  Which, in cat years, is mature.  🙂

What’s your favorite social media channel?