MOMS AGAINST ZOMBIES
by Alathia Paris Morgan Continue reading →
On Thursday, the release day of the expanded edition of The Goddess’s Choice will finally arrive. To celebrate, I will be offering the Kindle version for only $.99 on Thursday only.
I will also be having a twitter party on Thursday. There will be games, contest, prizes, fun, and more! Don’t miss out. Details below.
I’d love to see y’all there. (Yes, I live in the South, but I didn’t grow up here, and English needs a 2nd person plural. Y’all is much better than you guys.)
(Note: some of the following has been adapted from Rayne Hall’s blog.)
I can’t remember what show I was watching or which book I was reading, but one character needed to tell another what had happened. She says, “I don’t know where to begin.”
He responds, “Begin at the beginning.”
For novel openings, this is bad advice. Hall likens this to starting to cook after your dinner guests have arrived. The beginning of nearly anything is boring and won’t catch your reader’s interest. The other common advice is begin with action. Although this is slightly better than begin at the beginning, I don’t find it fantastic advice either. For one thing, action can be confusing when none of the characters or even the setting have been introduced. (And confusing the reader is the greatest sin of an opening. Nothing stops a reader reading more quickly than confusion.) Second, if the reader doesn’t care about the characters, the action has little to no emotional impact.
An effective opening needs to do three things:
1) Set time and place.
Readers need to be oriented to the world they are inhabiting right away. Not in intricate detail, but enough so they feel grounded. The reader needs to know if she is in contemporary USA, medieval Europe, or a space colony orbiting the planet Xenon. Let’s look at the opening of Storm Front, the first book in Jim Butcher’s Dresden Files series:
The bloke was leaning against a humungous gleaming finger up to the sky, which they call the Shard.
He would be – the tosser.
I shoved my hands into my pockets, as I swaggered up behind him.
When I tapped him on the shoulder, he jumped a bleeding mile. He could barely have been authored: no instincts at all.
When he spun round, peepers narrowed, I saw he was a kid. A bloody Emo: skull patterned hoodie, black and white striped socks and matching scarf. Even a t-shirt with cartoon vampire: cute fangs and bat wings.
Perfect – he had a sense of irony too.
Emo flicked his long black fringe, which was sprayed green like a mouldy skunk; his peepers were rimmed with enough eyeliner for one too.
Then Emo crossed his arms and tapped his foot, as if I’d been the one who’d been caught out being a bad boy.
And yeah, I was bloody bad but I’d proved I was no boy.
I frowned. ‘Who the bleeding hell are you?’
Emo just smirked.
That did it. No more Mr Nice Light.
‘Look, you pain in my arse, why were you watching us? Can you talk to me or do you have to go get your daddy first?’
The Emo’s smirk widened. Then he head-butted me.
Crack – there went my nose.
Hand strikes – one, two, three – so rapid I didn’t have time to think more than: Emo kids knocking the stuffing out of you with Kenpo Karate? Now that’s not something you see every day.
I choked on the pain blazing in hot shocks where his small hand sliced.
No more Mr Nice Light? All right then.
I grabbed the end of Emo’s stripy scarf and twisted. His turn to choke.
Gasping, Emo hesitated – my in.
Because here’s the thing: I know karate too. And the moment Emo realised it?
Blinding.
I slammed an elbow strike, followed by swift knife-hands, driving Emo crashing back against the glass Shard. It trembled. He kicked my legs; I gritted my teeth but didn’t lose ground. Close now, I went for a flurry of strikes, until all I could hear was his soft grunts and the hit of flesh on flesh.
I’d missed this: fists and fangs. You can’t tame a predator – and I’ve never pretended to be a hero.
Battering that cartoon vampire with its ironic batwings?
Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.
Because of the release of the new Wonder Woman movie, I wanted to talk about my childhood hero. I was born in 1967 and grew up in the 70s and 80s, so I wasn’t exactly inundated with strong, powerful female role models on Television. On Scooby-Doo there were two female characters. The highly intelligent Velma was also a dork, unattractive, and completely useless without her glasses, which were always falling off. Then you had Daphne who was attractive but a completely brainless ditz. The truly interesting characters on the show were, of course, Shaggy and Scooby-Doo, both males. Other TV programs showed me a powerful 2000-year-old genie who called the man “Master” and bowed to his every wish. Darrin on Bewitched makes his powerful wife promise never to do witchcraft and makes sure she washes the dishes by hand inside of with a twitch of her nose. She is almost always the dutiful housewife. I liked both Samantha and Jeannie, but even as a child, I was uncomfortable with them bowing to masculine control.
Linda Carter as Wonder Woman came on to the scene in 1975. She may hide her identity in that of a secretary, but she’s an Amazonian princess. In the Amazon, the women rule, and they never bow to male authority. Wonder Woman undoes her hair and twirls around, and she is a superhero with a magical golden lasso and bracelets which can deflect bullets. She fights with superhuman strength and ability and never needs to be rescued. As the theme song stated, “All the world is waiting for you, and the power you possess.” She flies an invisible plane and defeats the bad guys. She is honored for her power by men, unlike Darrin whose threatened by his wife’s strength. Wonder Woman taught me that women can be strong, and I absolutely loved her.
Yes, I know that she was sexually objectified by her skimpy outfit while Superman and Batman are always fully clothed, but that didn’t occur to me as a child. Her butt kicking ability, however, did. She wasn’t my only influence, but Wonder Woman helped nurtured my feminist consciousness before I even knew what a feminist was. (In my house, they were called “women libbers” and always referred to with disdain.) Heroes like her helped me to throw off the repressive patriarchal values of the culture I grew up in. I owe Wonder Woman a debt I try to repay through the creation of my own female characters.
Cheer her on!
The Goddess’s Choice, expanded edition, will be released in a couple of weeks. To get you in the mood, below I’ve included a scene that I deleted from the final version of the novel. I like the scene quite a bit, but it ultimately didn’t add to the book. So it isn’t lost forever, I offer it to you. Please comment and tell me what you think.
One particularly cold day, Robbie emerged from the barn about midmorning intending to head for Brazen’s stable. As he was about to mount Wild Thing, a horse galloped into the farmyard. “Good morning,” the horse’s rider called out.
“Good morning.” Robbie nodded to a man he didn’t know.
“I’m looking for an amihealer by the name of Robbie Angusstamm. I was told he lived here.”
“You’ve found him. What can I do for you?” Robbie wasn’t terribly surprised to find a complete stranger looking for him. As his skill increased under Myst’s tutelage, so had his reputation; more and more farmers trudged to him through the winter snow when an animal of theirs fell ill. He was, however, surprised to hear the man refer to him as an amihealer. Only Myst and Milady had ever called him that.
The farmer got off his horse. He was quite young, no older than Boyden. His face was spotted with more freckles than Robbie had ever seen on human being, and when he smiled his eyes twinkled with amusement, as if he knew a secret that no one else would ever learn. “My name is Perth Quinstamm,” the man said, extending his hand.
Surprised, Robbie put out his own. Even when people came seeking his skill, they always avoided touching him.
As he shook his hand, the man seemed somewhat nervous and extremely upset. “I’ve been riding since before daybreak to get here. I have a new farm on the far side of the Valley. Just bought the place last spring with my wife. She’s expecting our first child. I bought ten milk cows, but something evil has gotten into them. Most of them have stopped giving any milk to speak of. They’re burning up with fever, and they have frightful sores on their mouths, udders, and feet. One of them died last night. I don’t have much in the way of money, but I’m prepared to pay whatever it takes. Will you come with me?”
“Let me get my things.” Robbie went back into the barn and gathered together the materials he would likely need to treat the animals. He didn’t take much; from the farmer’s description, he thought he knew what was wrong, and no herbs he had could cure the problem. It’d take direct healing energy. He gave instructions to Allyn and Darien in case he couldn’t make it back by nightfall.
* * *
The wind had been blowing fiercely, and Robbie was shivering with cold by the time they arrived at Perth Quinstamm’s farm. The closer he got to the farm the more and more the distress of the cattle pressed in about him. He’d been right in what he suspected. When they dismounted in front of the barn, Perth hesitated. “I’m not sure what to do with your horse. Applecreek here seems okay, but the disease is rather bad.”
Robbie shook his head. “It’s okay. Horses can’t sicken in this way.”
“How can you know? You haven’t even looked at the cows yet.”
“An amihealer doesn’t need to see the animal to know what is wrong with it. I can feel their illness. Your cows’ sickness is one only those with cloven hooves can get—cows, pigs, sheep, but not horses.”
A very young woman, no older than Robbie, stuck her head out of the house’s door. She smiled with relief when she saw him. “He came, did he, Perth? I told you he would. When you two get the horses taken care of, come on inside. I have some hot bhat and warm stew waiting for you.” Robbie blinked in surprise. He’d never been invited inside another farmer’s house before.
The man’s expression mingled fear and respect. “If you’re sure your horse is in no danger, she’s welcome to the stable.” He led Robbie inside a warm, comfortable barn. It was solidly built and had been kept scrupulously clean. The sickness of the cows wasn’t caused by any neglect on the farmer’s part. However, the diseased beasts were salivating heavily and had difficulty staying on their painful feet. They called to Robbie for relief. He unsaddled Wild Thing, and the man brought grain and water for both horses. Robbie rubbed his mare down and made her comfortable.
Perth came up to him. “Can you get rid of this evil thing?” Robbie nodded. The man looked both relieved and fearful. “Just what will it cost me? I mean, I’m prepared to pay whatever it’ll take myself. Brietta depends on me, and she’s carrying my child. I’ll lose the cattle before letting anything harm my family, but if it’s just me, whatever it takes.”
Robbie put his hand on one of the cows to better gauge the extent of the illness. “If you can’t afford to pay me now, you can pay when your cattle start producing again. No one need go hungry.”
“I wasn’t taking about money, but about the other thing.” Perth refused to meet his eyes.
“What other thing?” Robbie removed his hand from the animal.
The man leaned forward and whispered. “I heard blood or flesh or possibly a piece of the soul was involved. You know, for the demon inside.”
Robbie thought he might vomit. “You asked me here thinking I meant to drink your blood or worse?”
Quinn’s eyes widened. “Are you saying it isn’t true?”
“I’ve had coin, grain, eggs, freshly made bread, a chicken or two, a particularly delicious apple pie, some strawberry preserves and this belt in payment for my services this winter. What I haven’t had is any blood, human flesh, or souls of any kind. I’m not a demon. What is wrong with you people?”
Perth looked at him for a few seconds, then dropped his head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have believed the rumors.”
* * *
Robbie spent most of the next three days either in a trance, ridding the cows’ bodies of the vile disease, or sleeping to recover his strength. At the end of it, Perth Quinstamm’s barn was free of disease, and a few of the cows had started giving milk again.
On the morning of the fourth day, both Perth and Brietta stood in the farmyard to see him off. Brietta handed him a large basket. “I don’t know how to thank you, Healer Robbie. This should keep you for the day.”
Perth shook his hand. “You’ve saved my family.” He gestured toward the basket. “Brietta makes a particularly good apple pie, I think you’ll find. I promise when things start looking up in the spring, I’ll bring along a proper payment.”
I’ve always loved to read, and I’ve worked with words in one way or another all my life. I’ve been a medical editor, a freelance fiction editor, taught English to foreign language speakers. But writing science fiction and fantasy is my favorite thing in life so far, and I’m so happy I have a chance to do it. I’m also a traveler and enjoy seeing other countries and their cultures.
Jamie’s Note: I love this cover. |