Happy World Dracula Day

 

“It is not my place to have an opinion on the matter, sir.”

A chuckle that was like the scrape of metal over stone. “Where has the disobedient Vlad Dracula gone? Replaced instead with a mannerly boy of temperance, eh?”

“Sir.” The real Vlad, the disobedient dragon’s son, was alive and well. But he’d grown patient in his captivity, at the urging of his friend. He’d learn to rake dirt over his furious coals and let them smolder; he trained, and he learned, and he dedicated himself to knowing all that he could about his captors.

And he waited.

Murat studied him, head canted to the side. “It’s a shame,” he drawled, “that you and my son could never be friends. He could have learned from you – you have something which, despite all his wonderful qualities, he lacks.”

“Sir?”

That almost-smile again. “My Mehmet is made of fire. But you. You are made of steel.”

Behind his back, Vlad’s hands curled into fists. 

May 26th is World Dracula Day! Bram Stoker's masterpiece was first published on this day in 1897, and his fictional count remains an integral figure in both horror and romance fiction to this day. Dracula is one of my favorite novels of all time, and, well, obviously, I find the man himself - the real Vlad Dracula - an endlessly inspiring figure from history. 

Of all my books - 40+ at this point - my novel about Vlad Tepes, and his brother Radu, remains my very favorite, and the story of which I'm the proudest. If you're after a blend of real Romanian history and vampirism, and you don't buy that Vlad was the villain of his own story, allow me to submit Dragon Slayer for your consideration, book three in my Sons of Rome series. 

Sad, Angry Anime Boy Vlad

That's how my brother described Vlad during a conversation last year, and I thought, you know, you're not wrong. For all of his - uh - flaws, we'll say, Vlad was very much a banked fire of a boy, burning furiously, quietly, biding his time, nursing terrible grudges, until he had the chance to roar to vengeful life. Because that's the truth of the Vlad the Impaler story - it's about revenge. His actions were reactions. To what he'd witnessed. To what had been done to him. 

Look out, I'm back on my Vlad BS.

But on a serious note...

I watched a History Channel show about Vlad last week, and there was some good info in it...there was also some very Not True stuff...and a boatload of omissions that would have served to put most of his behavior in some kind of perspective. For instance, there was no mention of Radu having been little more than a sex slave during his adolescence - he was simply "Vlad's hated younger brother loyal to Mehmet." No mention of the kidnapping; of the murders of Vlad II and Mircea; no mention of Skanderbeg, and his mentorship of Vlad during captivity. John Hunyadi didn't seem to exist in this version of events; in fact, it was claimed that it was Vlad who reached out to Hungary, after he was on the throne, and begged for "aid in his slaughter," but that "Matthias" refused. It was a quick, glossed-over bit of spectacle that painted Mehmet as wise and fair, only doing his duty, and Vlad as deranged and bloodthirsty. Vlad was, according to this piece, "terrorizing" the Danube, killing his own people. More or less a hit piece, lacking all nuance - no mention of the bishops who begged the Eastern European princes to set out on another crusade, and Vlad taking up the cross at their urging - designed purely to strike fear in the hearts of anyone tip-toeing around the topic of Dracula. 

I continue to wonder: why are there so many sources intent on stripping out all the facts and painting the story of Vlad Tepes as a one-sided monster tale? Probably it has to do with entertainment; Vlad the blood-drinker makes for a much better story than the back-and-forth muddied politics, throne takings and losings, castrations and molestations of the real story. 

But for me, the real story is fascinating. Not only that, but it also makes sense in a way all the glossy terror portraits don't. I'm certainly glad I'm not a Wallachian citizen living in 1460. I certainly don't condone or excuse anything Vlad did. But I'm a storyteller. And the thing about stories: even the wildest ones have their own logic; you can follow the trails of breadcrumbs, and when you get to the gingerbread house, you aren't actually surprised at all to find the witch there. Or, in this case, to find the Prince of Wallachia there, in his fortress built by his own nobles before he put them to death. 

Fiction-writing is largely a psychological exercise for me. It is, as I said earlier, a psychological exercise - writing and reading. On the writing front, I've always loved the challenge of taking a character deemed highly problematic and getting inside their head. Following their logic; viewing the world the way they do. And then painting for the audience - not an excuse, not an endorsement, but an empathetic portrait. I want to write those difficult stories; I want the audience to be challenged, and to find themselves rooting for unlikely protagonists. 

To that end: I feel such fatigue and sadness when I look at Twitter and see the anti, purity police movement move from fandom to the published author community. There's a wave; an ugly low rumble: writers shouldn't "normalize" "toxic," "problematic," "abusive" behavior by writing about morally flawed characters. People are good, or people are bad, and one misdeed condemns them for life. Ew, don't write about bad people. And if you do, you better make it clear to the audience that they're BAD, and can't be redeemed; shouldn't be liked or empathized with. Readers shouldn't mourn the loss of a character who was evil. 

Books like Wuthering Heights and Jane Eyre are, according to the anti-problematic crowd, objectively bad, thanks to their flawed heroes. Forget nuance, forget what we can gain from those kinds of stories - that's all out the window for some. 

I've been saying this for a long time, and I'll keep saying it: it's not the job of adult fiction to tell you what you should do. Fiction is not a manners guide; it's not a sex-ed manual; the purpose of fiction is not to condemn bad behavior, and uplift "pure," "unproblematic" behavior. 

Fiction holds a mirror up to the world. Not to one person. Not to one ideal; not to one standard. To the world. And the world is dark, and violent, and scary. People aren't good, or bad, but so, so many shades of gray. Dark stories aren't meant to condone misdeeds. Through fiction we can stand safely on the sidelines and begin to understand the world. We can go anywhere, witness any number of things, and come away richer, more thoughtful, and more empathetic. I can't begin to tell you how important it is that fiction allows readers to put themselves in the shoes of a person who acts, thinks, looks, loves, and lives differently than they do. That is important.  Complex fiction encourages critical thinking of all kinds. 

(An aside to say how much I now loathe the world problematic after over-exposure. No one in real life thinks you lack moral standards just because you enjoy and find artistic value in a problematic story. I wish people would stop being so afraid that fictional taste was a direct reflection of someone's character.)

To date, I've never written someone as problematic as Vlad - and looking at my catalogue, that's saying something, folks. But I don't look at it that way; not as problematic. I never thought maybe I should write about someone nicer, gentler, easier to empathize with. Vlad was - is, in my series - a person. Every person has their reasons, ugly or not, palatable or reprehensible. Vlad had his. Writing about them was the most challenging, most thought-provoking, most fun I've ever had writing fiction, and I can't believe how much the process taught me - about craft, about patience, about characters...and about the nature of human cruelty and resentment. Because, here's the thing: writing Dragon Slayer didn't make me tolerant of impalement; but it did make me shed tears for two little boys who lived a long, long time ago, and that's the meaning of dark stories. That's why we tell them. Not everyone has to read them, or like them, but they need to exist.

2019 Year In Review

Every year I think "ugh, why do we have to reflect on the year we've had?" And then I go and reflect on it, because not reflecting just isn't an option for me.

Here we go: a look back at 2019.

There were ups and downs. The downs were pretty down. But overall, I can say that I'm incredibly pleased with what I accomplished, and I suppose that's what counts. 

The Year's Writing

I ended 2018 feeling inordinately disappointed that I didn't manage to finish and publish Dragon Slayer when I'd originally planned. In truth, I never should have expected to make my original, self-imposed deadline. It was a massive book; it was the life story of not one, but two princes, one the Romanian ruler who's been turned cartoonishly evil by pop culture. 

After the holidays last year, I knuckled down, finished the novel, and had it out at the end of April this year. I've never been prouder of something I've written - I can only hope one of the future books in the series steals that crown. 

After DS, I jumped straight into writing Golden Eagle - which came out last week, incidentally, but you already knew that. The writing process for GE was much more streamlined - there weren't any major flashbacks or visits to the past - and I was able to work more quickly, despite the ever-expanding cast. There's lots of heads to keep tally of, but they tend to be very loud and insistent and they help with the storyline juggling in a way I've never experienced before. The end result: I managed to release two big, meaty fantasy novels in the same series this year, and I still can't quite believe I managed. 

Real talk for a second: I love being an indie author. I can't imagine a publisher giving me free rein with this series, and there's so much about it that I just wouldn't be willing to compromise on. I'm getting to write it my way, as particularly as I like, and that's an honest to goodness gift. BUT. Indie authors are generally expected to produce books at a much faster rate than traditionally-published authors. Most epic fantasy and historical fiction is produced, at the most, at the rate of one book per year. And it's not uncommon for it to take two or three per book. (That's not even to mention all the GRRM's of the world taking 10+ years between installments). With the cushion of an advance, and the help and reach of a major publishing house, those several-year gaps are more feasible. I don't have that luxury, so needless to say, I feel some pressure. I'm not compromising on story, though; this series is going to take as long as it takes; getting it right is my top priority, and I hope readers will continue to follow along as we go.

Those were my two releases, and you can find them here:

Dragon Slayer

Golden Eagle

But...there was also a book that didn't happen. A book that a corrupted flash drive ate, and which I was unable to retrieve. The intended Dartmoor Book 7, When In Rome, is just...gone. 80k words just - poof. Vanished. I was so furious when it happened. There was much cursing. But - and here's the ugly truth - the farther away I got from the unhappy shock of realizing the book was gone, the more I was able to identify my anger as that of time wasted, rather than the anger of lost art. Because honestly? I didn't love that book. I really don't think readers would have loved it. I can't get those hours back, and I wish I could, but I don't miss the book. There were some lines I liked; some snippets, particular scenes. But on the whole, that was a book I didn't want to write. So I'm not going to try to reconstruct it; I'm not rewriting it. Dartmoor Book 7 doesn't exist - and isn't going to. 

I am working on a Dartmoor book, though, never fear. After New Year's, I'll jump back into it and hopefully have it out this spring sometime. It's already a much better book. Much more dynamic and interesting, and, most importantly, something I find interesting. 

The Year's Reading

2019 was an excellent year for reading. I Instagrammed most of what I read (@hppress), and ranking it all would be impossible. But there are two standouts.

My favorite new book of the year was Gideon the Ninth, by Tamsyn Muir, which I blogged about here. Dark, darkly irreverent, lush, and vivid, this was a wild, imaginative sci-fi novel that bent and blended genres in a delightful way. It's violent, and creepy, and the most original thing I've read in a long time.

My favorite new-to-me read was actually an entire series: historical fiction master Dorothy Dunnett's Lymond Chronicles, which I blogged about here. The detail in her writing, the depth of research is truly staggering. Her characters are vivid, loveable, infuriating, and so very real - perhaps most especially her quicksilver lead character, who we mostly glimpse through the eyes of others; this mercurial, brilliant, beautiful, awful young Scottish noble named Francis Crawford. I adore the way Dunnett paints small, intimate scenes; down to the placement of a hand, or the glint of candlelight on ringed fingers. It's just exquisite. 

I read lots of nonfiction - history for research - but mostly historical fiction, and fantasy of all sorts. I've got a stack of books to read as we head into the new year, so brace yourselves for lots of posts. 

A Note on the Decade

Everyone on social media is recapping their decade - because holy smokes, it's the end of one - and my first instinct, as usual, was to say, "I don't guess I did enough."

But then I thought about it.

And thought about it.

10 years ago, I wasn't a published author. I didn't exist on social media. This blog didn't exist. 10 years ago, I was applying for HR jobs, and writing for a living was still a "some day" dream. 

This decade, I graduated college, started a blog, and indie-published 26 novels. 

As in all things in life, there have been missteps; there have been growing pains, and learning curves. Pulling back the curtain of an industry when you get inside of it always reveals some yikes-worthy truths. 

I can look back at my very first book, and cringe, because my writing is so much stronger now - but that means there's been growth! And, overall, I wouldn't trade any of it. Writing books is a lifelong dream realized, and I still have to pinch myself sometimes. Thank you all for being a part of the journey: for kind words, and ready encouragement. Thank you for letting me entertain you; for letting my characters into your hearts. Thank you for the reviews, and helping me spread the word; thank you for wanting my messy signature scrawled on a title page. 

I can't wait to keep going. I can't wait to see what the next decades brings.

Happy New Year! Cheers to a 2020 filled with more literary adventures. 

#DragonSlayer Debriefing: Epilogue

I still need to get to our secondary characters in a different post, but I've been working on Golden Eagle all day, so I wanted to talk about that DS epilogue...

Warning for spoilers below the photo. 

#TeaserTuesday: Sons of Rome

More debriefing will continue, hopefully later in the week.

Today, for #TeaserTuesday, I wanted to talk briefly about the series as a whole. About where we've been, and where we're going, and about the approach going forward. 

#DragonSlayer Debriefing: The Revenant

I'm going to have a photo, and then do a cut, so if you haven't finished Dragon Slayer, you won't accidently be spoiled on the main blog page. Spoilers below, proceed at your own risk! 

#DragonSlayer Debriefing: Hostages

This book could have been much shorter. I could have kept discussion of the past to a bare minimum; a few quick flashbacks. But I knew early on that I didn't want to do that. Vlad and Val are such important characters moving forward that I wanted to really show them to the audience; more than that, I wanted to show how two innocent little boys could grow into the men they are now. And that, in this instance, is neither a quick, nor lighthearted story. In my other books, I often reference a character's childhood, but here, I needed to show you most of it. 

#DragonSlayer Debriefing Part One

If you're reading this from the main blog page, and you haven't finished Dragon Slayer, and don't want spoilers, then don't click on the "Read More" under the photo. 

But I want to talk about my boys!! 

This will doubtless turn into several posts, because there's lots of break down. Let the debriefing commence...

#DragonSlayer is LIVE!!

*throws confetti*

The day has finally, finally come, and Dragon Slayer is live in the world!!

*more confetti*

I would really like to go lie down in a patch of sun for a while, now.

Links:

Kindle

Paperback

I'll have the Nook version up soon.

I'm planning on doing a debriefing - which will probably take more than one post, given how long this monstrosity is - in a week or so. I spoiled way too much about this book in the last few months, because I was just so excited about it, but there's still lots I haven't talked about, yet. So look for that, soon.

Happy reading, everyone. Thanks so much for letting me share this series with you all. xo

One Week

“You know,” Val continued, “the worst part is that I still love you. You will always be my big brother, and I’ll always want to please you.” He offered a smile. “But you won’t let me help you, will you?”

Vlad stared at him a long moment. Val thought he almost – but, no. There was no love there. He supposed there never had been. 

You guys. We are one week away.

Commence countdown. 

Dragon Slayer drops next Tuesday. It's actually already out in paperback on Amazon, but if you want a steal, be sure to grab it for Kindle before the release day, after which the price will go up to $4.99. You can pre-order it here. 

It's one week to go, and I'm giddy. Excitement always manifests itself as nerves for me, so that means I'm nervous as a fractious racehorse waiting for the bell. I've talked at length here, and on Facebook, and on Instagram, about the journey of this book. About how much it's meant to me to have the chance to write it, and publish it independently like this, so I could do it exactly how I wanted. Now it's almost here and I can't quite believe it. There was a moment in the middle of last summer, working on it, when I wondered if I could finish. It seemed like it would never be done. So many scenes to go, so much tweaking to do. This whole series is so incredibly daunting that sometimes I can't wrap my head around it. There's still so much story left to go. So much to tell. 

But all journeys progress the same way: one step at a time. Slowly, methodically, you keep plodding along. And now this leg of our trek - all 791 pages of it - is ready. 

I wrote the book a little out of order. I wrote the beginning and ending first, all the present day content. Then I went back and wrote the middle. Val surrending - and you'll see to whom - was the last line of the novel I wrote, and then I just...sort of slumped. It was over. And I knew I shouldn't have felt so deeply sad for people who've been dead six-hundred years...but I did.

But then I remembered I'd already written the real ending. That they aren't dead at all. But off on a new adventure, live and kicking in this century. Even though I'm a little bit exhausted, I can't wait to keep going. To chase these characters through the next book, and the next...

In a few weeks, I'll do some official debriefing posts, and we can talk in earnest about what happens in this book. But for now, I want to say thank you. And I want to wish you happy reading; I hope you'll enjoy this one. I don't say it often, but I'm immensely proud of this book, and I'm thrilled I get to share it with you all. 

ONE WEEK!! 

#WorkshopWednesday - On Historic Figures

I don't intend it to be, but I nevertheless have the feeling that, with this post, I'm wading into controversial waters. I shall wade anyway.

Last week, my brother texted me a link to this article. He spends more time on the web than I do, and he's forever sending me things he think I'll like or appreciate. And this definitely fit the bill. 

(For anyone who doesn't want to take the time to read it, it's a fairly snarky rebuttal to those Twitter threads that try to demolish, or "cancel" historic figures of the distant past and to blame them for all the problems of today. The Twitter threads that strip away every scrap of context, and paint the people of yore as abject villains.)

While I think there are definitely conversations to be had about the morality of key figures from the past, and about wars, and policies, and so on, I really hate the way misinformation gets bandied about on Twitter, totally unverified, and presented as "fact." Shortly after I published Walking Wounded, my Korean War historical novel, I encountered a Tweet in which someone claimed "the US totally just started bombing the Korean peninsula for no reason, because they love subjugating people." My head very nearly spun around. Think what you will of the US and its wartime policies - come to your own conclusions - but my God, at least know the facts before you start spouting stuff like this. For instance: in the immediate aftermath of WWII, the US was very hesitant to become involved in another international war. They only entered Korea after the UN insisted they do - beneath the leadership of a French diplomat - and even then, only a small contingent of green US Army boys who'd never seen conflict, shipped over from bases in Japan, made a move. Overfed, undertrained, and outgunned, these initial Army deployments were mowed down by the North Korean's Russian tanks and guns. It was quickly realized that a mistake had been made in underestimating the North Koreans - who invaded South Korea, by the way, prior to any other countries' involvement - and it was then that the US Marine Corps entered the fray and spent a winter losing toes and fingers to frostbite as they tried to push back the NKs.

But on Twitter, the narrative was: the US wanted Korea and bombed it and took it. And...my God. Read a book, dude. 

Because here's the thing: it's one thing to question motives, and it's quite another to interpret the facts, and understand those motives in the first place. It doesn't matter if you agree; a historian's job is not to make things more palatable, or to draw a moral conclusion. It's to present the facts.

In my case, as a fiction author, it's my job to crawl inside my character's heads, no matter where they come from. 

The author's note at the beginning of Dragon Slayer is my admittance that I've always wanted to write a book about Vlad. But it wasn't until I started researching my series in earnest that I realized that the whole story of his life was, at large, being withheld from the public. "A warlord," he's been called. A monster, a wicked, fiendish villain who loved the sight of blood and who feasted on the innocent for no reason.

Readers, let me tell you: there is always a reason. And it wasn't until I was poring over the absolute tragedy of Vlad the Impaler's family life that I understood his reason.

I will never excuse his behavior. Never. He committed extreme butchery. But context is important. Context is how we make sense of the past. Even if the past is dark, and ugly, and repels us - it's important to understand it if we're going to write about it. 

I think it's incredibly important that authors be given the leeway to explore the past without limits. Without it being assumed the author is pushing an agenda. I never am. In fact, it's damn insulting when someone assumes they understand my politics based on my (hopefully) accurate attitudes of characters from the past. 

I guess my point is this: history ain't pretty. But let's not wipe it out and pretend it never existed. And that there was never any logic behind it. 

Brothers and Sisters

It's National Siblings Day! I have a real life brother, with whom I'm co-writing a real life novel...but it's early stages and Top Secret still, so, I can't talk about that book. Which also features a pair of siblings! 

I've had the chance to write about a good many siblings in my author career thus far, and I don't see that changing anytime soon. There have been BIG families, like the Walkers. Estranged siblings like Layla and Johnny in the Russell series. Keeping-it-real brothers and sisters, like Aidan and Ava; I like that Ava is always ready to take her brother down a notch or two, because he always needs it. There have been found family brothers, like Aidan and Tango, or Aidan and Mercy. The club brotherhood. And there's been the Brood, which is honestly so much more entertaining and fun to write than any of those individual characters' potential romances. If readers had wanted books about Raven being kickass, and Cass learning how to be kickass, we could have had some fun there. But I get it: romance only. Le sigh. 

And then, now, there's Vlad and Val. Largely inspired by two real-life brothers. My first royal siblings. My first tried-to-kill-each-other siblings. 

***

The next time he woke it was to the sound of a disapproving voice saying, “Sir, I’m sorry, but you don’t have clearance to–” The speaker cut off with an oomph. Val, even behind crusty, closed eyelids, swimming in drowsiness, recognized the sound of someone’s back hitting the wall.

And then: “Let me through.” Vlad. Low and commanding.

Vlad. No, no, no, no. Val curled in on himself; a whimper got caught in the back of his throat, too tired to even voice it properly. He was so tired, and he hurt so much, and no, no, no, no.

Flight instincts kicked in as he heard the key turn in the lock. Of course the guards were letting Vlad through; he didn’t have the power to compel; there were no mind tricks. It was simply his presence. His implacable stare, the reputation that still, alarmingly, dogged his heels in the twenty-first century.

Get up, get up, he thought, desperate, but his body wouldn’t cooperate. He managed to crack his eyes open a slit, just in time to get a blurry glimpse of Vlad’s boots as he came to stand over him. He opened his mouth to croak out some pitiful insult, but his throat was too dry, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.

Vlad’s clothes rustled softly as he crouched down. And then…

Then.

A touch on his head. The gentle weight and warmth of a palm; he could feel it even through his tangled hair. And he squeezed his eyes shut, ashamed, because even after all that had happened, he could scent his brother, recognize his touch, and his muscles unclenched. Family. Safety. But it had never been safe, and Vlad didn’t want them to be family.

Vlad’s hand withdrew, and here it came: more pain. Val braced himself as much as he could, muscles feebly tightening in anticipation.

But there was no pain. Only Vlad’s hands, turning him over onto his back, and then his strong arms sliding under Val’s knees and behind his shoulders, and he was being lifted. His soreness spiked when he was moved, and he hissed, awash with pain – but it wasn’t intentional, was it? It was…it was…

Tears pushed at his eyelids, and he kept them shut tight as Vlad walked out of the cell, carrying him, Val’s head tucked into his chest. He smelled like modern human laundry, and sweat, and steel…and like his brother. Like Wallachia. Like home.

***

Romantic relationships may be the main event when it comes to fiction, but great stories need brothers and sisters, too, of all kinds. In fact, I've focused so much on the brother vs. brother dynamic of Dragon Slayer that I often forget to mention the romance. Which is there! One more slow-burn than the other. 

DS drops 4/30, and you can pre-order it here. 

#TeaserTuesday: Chapter 9

With the exception of the prologue, this is our first chapter of "Baby Val," and it's one I really enjoyed writing. Dragon Slayer drops just three weeks from today! I'm bound and determined to get my print ARCs ordered in the next day or so, but you can pre-order the novel for Kindle HERE. 

Please enjoy Chapter Nine, and have a wonderful Tuesday!

9

A BOUQUET OF FLOWERS

Tîrgovişte, Capital of Wallachia

1439

“Vlad! Vlad, wait for me!” Val panted as his small legs worked and his arms pumped and he struggled to catch up to his older brother. Vlad was only four years his senior, but they were a dramatic four years for boys who were four and eight, and Vlad had always been sturdy and large for his age. Val, by contrast, was a pale, slow-growing, delicate thing. “No bigger than a bouquet of flowers,” Fenrir’s wife and mate, Helga, liked to say, smiling and ruffling his golden hair. Vlad hadn’t meant to run off and leave him, Val didn’t think, but his legs were so much longer, so much stronger. And now Val was alone as he rounded the corner and saw that Vlad was long gone. 

#TeaserTuesday 4/2/19: Dragon Slayer

I'm bigger than my body
I'm colder than this home
I'm meaner than my demons
I'm bigger than these bones

And all the kids cried out, "Please stop, you're scaring me"
I can't help this awful energy
God damn right, you should be scared of me
Who is in control?

 ~ "Control," Halsey

“Why do you insist on testing me? Is it fun for you?”

The only fun Val had had in years had been today, watching Mehmet’s men fall back. Knowing that somewhere beyond the defiant flags flying above the unconquered fortress, across mountains and green hills, Vlad waited. And someday, perhaps, they might even see one another again. 

***

Twenty-eight days away! It's funny the way it's seemed to take so long, and now, with the release day in sight, it's going to fast. A part of me wants to apologize for the next twenty-eight days, and the sheer amount of advertising I'm going to do. But another, larger part of me is thrilled to finally be able to share this book. Thirteen years of dreaming, two years of research, a year of writing. It's kept me up nights, and required lots of coffee; I've shed real tears for these boys. And now, soon, I'll get to send them out into the world. 

Dragon Slayer drops 4/30, and you can pre-order it for the reduced price of $3.99 

here.

***

“Forgive me,” he drawled, “but you’re both forgetting one very important factor in all of this.” He made a lazy gesture toward the map, leaned back in his chair, one leg kicked up over the arm.

Mehmet shot him a glare.

Timothée turned to him with his usual pleasantly bland smile, his eyes hard and bright as polished stone. Val knew the mage hated him, though he hadn’t figured out why yet. He didn’t think, though, that it was for any of the reasons the rest of the court did.

“And what is that?” he asked, hands folded together primly before him.

Val lifted a finger. “My brother.”

Friday Notes - And Pre-Order Link! 3/22/19

I can't decide if Friday feels early, or overdue this week, but it's here regardless, and I hope it's lovely for all of you.

The big news today is: Dragon Slayer is available for pre-order!! 

You can go grab it here. The book is priced at $3.99 while it's up for pre-order, but the price will go up to the full $4.99 after its release, which will be April 30th. Mark your calendars. 

I've also reduced the first two books in the series, White Wolf and Red Rooster to $3.99 for this period as well. The prices will go back up after the 30th, so this would be a great time to start the series if you haven't yet. 

I know the $4.99 price point is a little higher than some of my other books, but this series is a much larger undertaking. (DS took two years of research, and a year of writing). The research alone has been, while interesting, and even fun, a not-inexpensive and lengthy affair. So the higher price is a reflection of all the effort that's gone into the books. And, hey, it's still less expensive than anything being put out by one of the major publishing houses. 

As soon as I get the final word from my beta, I'll be ordering print ARCs to send to the lovely readers who've helped me spread the love for the series so far. I'll be putting the official list for that together soon, but spots will be limited. 

On a reading front: please know that I spent forty minutes wandering around Barnes & Noble yesterday, and I didn't buy anything. I don't...quite know how that's possible. Maybe common sense finally got the best of me and the big stack of unread books by my bed reminded me that it exists and doesn't need to get any bigger. 

I'm still reading Dorothy Dunnett's Lymond Chronicles; up to book three, The Disorderly Knights. I'm also reading Caesar by Adrian Goldsworthy for SoR research. I read a passage this morning which struck me. To paraphrase, Goldsworthy says that the only visual records we have of Romans are cold marble busts and carvings, a few faces stamped onto coins, and that, while these might be accurate, written accounts of appearances vary, and lack a basis of what was seen as "normal" in ancient times, in regards to height and build, and so forth. What ends up standing out, the biggest impression left upon modern audiences, is of the figure's force of personality. It isn't Caesar's face that strikes us, and keeps us talking about the man still today, but rather who he was. As a general, as a consul, as a dictator. 

This lesson can be applied to fiction writing: a character can look however you want him to, but it's his personality that strikes the reader and leaves a lasting impression. When I write, I find myself wanting readers to know my characters; and when I read non-fiction, I find that I want to know these historical figures. Not their stats and accomplishments, but their minds and hearts. 

Alright, I'm off to write about our young tsarevich making more terrible decisions. I've got a busy weekend ahead, so if I'm unable to check back in, I hope you all have a wonderful weekend. 

Until next time.