Gale’s sophomore release is a retelling of The Count of Monte Cristo. Now, I’m at a slight disadvantage since I haven’t actually read the original novel. Does watching the movie count? ^_^ Thus, I can’t comment on any differences between the original book and hers; though, I can say the ending is quite the pleasant surprise

The basic premise of TCoMC is that a young sailor brought to good fortune is betrayed and falsely convicted of treason. He spends years locked away in prison until he finally manages to escape. He spends the next ten years planning his revenge against the people who wronged him, including his fiancee Mercedes. The actual body of the story is about the implementation of his revenge–or in this case, also a detailed account of various characters’ sexual exploits.

I found Master a hot and intriguing read, with plenty of imaginative, steamy sex. (Though nothing quite tops the harp scene in Unmasqued!) The prose has a lyrical flow, and the characters come alive in the erotic tapestry Gale weaves. I love the way she personifies Mercedes and Haydee in ways that weren’t shown in the movie, or, I trust, the original story.

The one thing I would note for readers about the story is that the sex is very edgy; in some cases, consent is dubious. It’s most certainly erotica. If you don’t like historical-based stories with lots of extreme sex, this book probably isn’t for you. If you do like it, on the other hand… read and enjoy.

*hums the rest of Eminem’s Without Me*

I’m not even going to comment on how long it’s been since I’ve blogged here. Bottom line is, way too fucking long. Last year was stressful and busy as all hell, and while this year has had its stresses, my biggest problem has been getting my fibro pain under control. My doc upped my pain prevention meds and also wrote me a script for breakthrough pain medication — so yay on that front!

Writing-wise, I’m currently working on The Shadow Unveiled, the sequel to The Twilight Deception. It picks up immediately where the first novella left off, and involves a lot more emotion as Jackson and Arielle’s relationship deepens. It’s wicked fun to write.

In other good news, I have a R&R from Total E-Bound for one of my erotic shorts. It needs a bit more sexing up, but that shouldn’t be too big a deal as I can see a couple places to add scenes that will deepen the overall story. I wouldn’t do it if it were going to be gratuitous; that’s one of my biggest peeves in erotic fiction.

Oh, and I’ve also changed the layout of the site with help from my dear husband. If you’re reading this via RSS, check out the main page at http://www.nonnymorgan.com

As usual, quite a lot has happened since my last post. I’ve been going through a real rough time writing-wise over the past few months. Some of you who’ve been reading The Novelty Girls know that I’ve been having serious issues getting back into writing after taking a couple months off due to real life rearing its ugly mug. I’d end up with my Inner Dickwad running my head in circles every time I tried to work on something.

It didn’t help that I had a lot of trouble getting into what I was working on, either. It’s not surprising with A Touch Necromantic, as I need to do some more development work on it before I can make any headway. I’ve got a lot of characters and conflicts I don’t know much about, as it begins in a different part of the world from Passion.

With Stronger … well … *sigh* That’s a bit harder. The original version flowed so well, but this has been like pulling teeth. I’m not sure if it’s because I’ve broken it off to work on something else way too many times over the past year, or if it’s because there’s a problem somewhere in the last several chapters I’m not recognizing.

Bottom line is, I’m having trouble with both of my main projects. This is not good when you’re trying to get back into writing after a long absence.

One night, I sat down and talked to Morgan about it. (I love it that my husband is a writer, too. He understands and often has some damn good insight.) He suggested that if I was having trouble, then maybe I should look at writing something for fun. Something that’s for me more than anything else. But I couldn’t come up with anything that I’ve got on the backburner that really fit the bill for that. The Reaper’s Price is close, but I have some amount of difficulty with erotic fiction these days.

And then it hit me. Arielle and Jackson. More than any other character I’ve ever written, Arielle’s voice flows for me. I love writing her and spending time in her little nook of that world. But I’d been planning on expanding the novella into something longer come fall, when it was closer to the date my contract would come due. (Cobblestone’s contracts are one year in length and renewable by mutual agreement of both parties.)

Life specializes in irony.

Within an hour of that discussion, I received an e-mail from Deanna and Sable at Cobblestone Press. Because they knew I was not happy there, they will be releasing me from my contract effective the end of June. Cobblestone is a great publisher that has a lot of potential to be a serious force in the industry, but … well, to put it simply, we weren’t compatible. Happens in all sorts of relationships. That being said, their actions here have shown a lot of consideration, and I deeply appreciate that.

Where does this leave me?

Hard at work on Twilight: The Novel. I’m not sure if I’m going to keep The Twilight Deception as the title for the novel, or if I’m going to find something else. Anyone got any thoughts there? LOL.

I’ve added almost 4k of new material thus far, and that should go up as I start to get into some amount of a writing routine. I’m a bit sketchy on where the novel is going; I’ve got the rough outline, but I need some more specifics. And probably to complicate things, also; otherwise, this is going to be an awfully short book!

Wish me luck!

I actually wanted to expand on something I said there, but wasn’t immediately relevant to the post. I mentioned that writing is my calling, and for me that’s been very true. I’d told stories from a very young age, but it wasn’t until I was eight and started writing more frequently that I realized it was what I wanted to do with my life. Being a kid and all, I sure as hell had plenty of other things I wanted to do — primarily, veterinarian or nurse. But that one thing always stayed with me: Writing.

Several years ago at this point (wow… it’s hard to believe that much time has passed), when my Dad and I were butting heads because I wanted to leave college and he wanted me to be an English professor, I wrote him a letter explaining my plans — and how I felt about writing. Something I said in the letter:

Ultimately, I have to follow God’s will. I have to follow what feels right. This is not new. This is not some harebrained plan I just thought up. This is something I’ve wanted since I was eight years old. It’s a calling, just the same as a shaman is called. Some people have worked damn hard at crushing my dream, and they nearly managed to. [Former writing group] restored that, and I’ll be forever grateful to them for that. I can do this. I have a confidence in myself and my abilities that I never had before.

This isn’t just a hobby. This isn’t even just a career. This is me.

Certainly, a lot has changed since I wrote that letter. Obviously, I’m not Christian anymore, and I’m no longer at my former writers’ group. While I am still grateful for everything they did to help me, the circumstances under which I left were… not pleasant, to say the least.

But my feelings toward writing haven’t changed. I still view it as a deep calling. I’ve dealt with so many doubts since I wrote that letter … I’ve had so many people nearly convince me that I shouldn’t waste my time; that I should go back to school and get a “real” job … I’ve looked at other things so many times, but nothing calls to me like this. There are other things I could do well, but they would be so intensive that I wouldn’t have much of a life. (Of course, the whole fibro issue complicates things.)

Recently, I’ve been back to wondering if it’s the right thing — maybe I really am wasting my time here — maybe –

Then I think back to my accomplishments over the past year alone. I’m finally making serious progress. I need to learn how to work with stress better than I have been, but … this is what I’m meant to do. And I can’t go letting some stupid stuffy Inner Dickwad keep beating me down.

Now that I’ve gone baring myself here how do you feel about writing? Am I the only one who feels so deeply drawn to the field, to the point I can’t ever see myself doing something else? What about you?

*sigh*

It’s been a very hectic month and a half. Every time I turn around, something else has gone wrong. We keep having car trouble (Stitches the Shitmobile can’t decide whether or not it wants to be dead or alive), one of our kittens has a bad infection and is being treated with antibiotics for it, and sundry other things have managed to sneak up and clock me one over the head.

Needless to say, I haven’t been getting much in the way of writing done. My World of Warcraft characters, however, have been gaining levels at a fairly decent clip.

I’m trying to get back into the swing of things, though. I’ve been making some good progress on Stronger than the Night the past week or so, mostly thanks to getting back with my group of writing buddies. I’d had a nasty falling-out with one person due to several miscommunications compounded by external stress, which left the whole group splintered. Thankfully, said person and I talked recently and seem to have worked things out. *crosses fingers*

I really ought be working on the sequel to A Passion Draconic, but seeing as how Stronger is already in progress and most of the way completed… it makes more sense to give it priority. (I think.)

(And I’ll update for real soon. I promise. >_<)

ON SALE NOW!

When former paratrooper Scott Riley returns home from the war, he has
one aim—to meet the girl of his dreams, Cassie Wright. Cassie has been
his penpal, and his light at the end of the tunnel through most of his
war experience. He goes to her hometown on the Gulf Coast of Florida
with marriage on his mind only to find that she has other plans for her
future. A talented pianist, Cassie has been accepted to a prestigious
music conservatory in Jacksonville. Will she give up her dreams for
Scott, or will he chase hers?

A DIFFERENT TUNE is my third World War II-era historical. Read the four sneak peeks I’ve posted on my
MySpace Blog
or Visit A Different Tune Homepage for purchase info and to download a 2-chapter preview.

For more information about me or my other novels, please visit: LKCampbell.com

I mentioned in brief going to Boskone. My friend Jami came up from San Antonio for the con–and to visit us. We’d both expressed mutual interest online; the complication was, Jami’s prior girlfriend had been online also, but things didn’t “spark” when they met IRL. This concerned us, so we decided to wait until we met IRL to decide anything. Um. To make a long story short, we hit it off quite well. Right now, Jami would like to move, but she needs to wait until the end of her lease, as she’s sharing the apartment with a good friend.

That didn’t come as much surprise. Everyone involved thought there was a very good chance of it happening once we met IRL.

That’s not all.

About the time Jami came up for Boskone, we also invited Morgan’s “brother” Paul. We knew he’d been having a lot of problems with his then-fiancée and thought he could use the time away. Since we were all going up to the con together, it made more sense for him to stay overnight than for us to drive back and forth from his house. With time away from her–and talking about the situation with *cough*sane*cough* people–he slowly began to realize just how screwed up the relationship was. I’m not going to go into any details in a public venue; let’s just say that the relationship was quite emotionally and verbally abusive.

Morgan and I did something we don’t usually do. We told him precisely what we thought: “Ditch the bitch.” And we offered him a place to stay. We all get along well, and while Paul has health issues of his own due to a severe work-related injury, they’re different than ours; massage therapy and energy work actually do something for him. I’m good at both. Logistically, it seemed it would be a good fit.

Except the more time we spent around each other, the more he and I began to “click.” We both admitted we were attracted to each other, but I made it clear I was not going to do anything while he was with her, because they were in a monogamous relationship. I’m polyamorous; I’m not a cheater, and I refuse to be the “other woman.”

Ultimately, Paul decided the situation with his fiancée was not workable. He tried to work it out, but she refused to hear anything he said about the way he felt. I was there to witness some of the conversations, and she always spun it around to be about her instead of listening to him. When Paul talked about the problems they’d been having for several years, she would only focus on recent issues and say she was working on them. The problem being, she was only working on them because she had to, and she was bitching and moaning every step of the way.

That opened the way for things between him and I. At that point, I was still very uncertain. I was afraid to admit how I felt, and I worried that I was a rebound on his part, even though he’s not the sort of person prone to them. Add to that the confusion about the attraction to another male; I identify as mostly lesbian, and I don’t like men as a general rule, almost to the point of active dislike in some cases.

A couple days after breaking up with her, she wanted to talk with him alone. He needed to get some stuff from the house also, so he went. All evening long, I had a horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach. Something was wrong, and I had no clue what. I figured the girl had probably gone off her nut again, and I didn’t trust that she wouldn’t totally lose it. Around one in the morning, I got a phone call from him. He’d been in an accident on the way home. It was foggy and icy, and a semi had rounded a corner on the wrong side of the road. Paul barely managed to avoid hitting it head-on, but rammed the car into a guard rail. It wasn’t too far from his house, so he managed to get it back there and call me, but it was such a close call…

It’s funny how almost losing someone you love slams your feelings full force in your face. I’d known I loved him, but I’d been afraid and tried to avoid it… after that, after almost losing him, I couldn’t anymore.

It’s been a couple weeks at this point, and everything’s settling in nicely. And yes–Morgan’s fine with the situation, as is Jami. I’m sure that will confuse a lot of people, but hey… it’s us.

We went to Boskone, a local science fiction and fantasy convention, with a couple friends. Unfortunately, due to a fubar on Boston’s part (parts of the subway line we needed to take were shut down for this weekend only), we didn’t get to the con until 4pm on Saturday, so I missed quite a bit of the panels I’d wanted to see. Still a lot of fun, though, and I got to meet up with some people I hadn’t seen in a year or more.

I might be going to Lunacon next month. Smudge and Pen are going and offered to split a room with me and the male. Morgan has had to take a lot of time off work, so he wouldn’t be able to, but Pen lives close enough that we can probably carpool. It’d be a lot of fun–and hey, it’s in New York, which is one place I haven’t been to yet. Not that I’d do much besides hang around folks at the con, but still!

In other news, I’ve received a few awesome reviews these past couple days. Cocktail Reviews, a new review blog, gave The Twilight Deception five champagne flutes (their second highest rating!) and Wasting the Dawn four flutes. A couple quotes:

“What an utterly fantastic read. I haven’t read a book that has affected me in this way for a while.” — Wilga Hill Boomerang on Twilight.

“Ms. Drake has an exceptional voice and a unique ‘thing’ that just shines from the page.” — White Russian on Wasting.

Annnnnnnnnnnnd…

About a month or so ago, I sent a query to Mrs. Giggles for The Twilight Deception. I happened to check the website today, not so much because I wanted to check, but because I love her site… and she’d posted the review.

She rated it an 83.

For Mrs. Giggles, this is high praise, indeed. I’m still bouncing off the walls. A long-ish quote: “Elisabeth Drake has an interesting alternate world in this story. Vampires and witches are nothing new, but the otherworldly vampires here are not the usual vampires and their ability to pass themselves off as humans even in broad daylight allows some interesting possibilities. The author also knows how to tell a story in an entertaining manner - this short story has excellent build-up and ends most satisfactorily despite the book being only 75 pages long. I don’t feel that the story is rushed to a conclusion.”

I’d hoped she would like it, but… this is Mrs. Giggles. She is known for char-broiling manuscripts. While I’ve had several picky people crit/beta read my work, much less editors, I’m not going to assume that someone won’t think it’s crap anyway. ^_^

So, yeah, bouncing off walls. Whee!

Happy Valentine’s Day! I’m participating in Romance Divas’ eBook Challenge. Click here for the full list of participants and genres, though I think some of the latter are a bit out-of-date. (Gotta love it when you change your mind about what you’re writing, LOL.)

Here’s a short excerpt from the story I’ve contributed, Transformation. I should mention that the story isn’t a romance. It’s dark urban fantasy with a different spin on werewolves and vampires. I had a lot of fun writing it, and I hope you enjoy reading it!

Chill air surrounded me, shadows of souls long since passed haunting its crisp essence. Goosebumps rose across my flesh, tingling; I shivered. Surrounded by death, Kestrel. You will always be surrounded by death. My grandmother’s last words rang through my head. My face paled. The bouquet of flowers I had brought her dropped from my hand to the grave below.

What would she think? I could do naught but stare down at it as night’s mist wrapped around me. I loved my grandmother very much… perhaps almost too much. It’d been five years since her death, and still, I brought her lilies every anniversary of her death.

And now these are soiled by the touch of another soul. I could, of course, pick them up and take them to Grandmother’s grave anyway–but both she and I would know the truth. She haunted my dreams enough. I did not need to give her cause to do so further.

Apprehension roiled in my stomach as the howl of my brethren pierced night’s flimsy armor. Nearly time. Clouds moved, and the moon shone down, through withered scarecrow trees. My heart beat fast, and my gut clenched.

So close. I hadn’t realized…

“Houndfather’s bloody kill!” I swore, but anger disguised confusion within. With the full moon so high, I should already have felt the alterform stirring within me, claws scraping beneath my skin, tearing at the mask of humanity. Perhaps even have already entered the beginnings of the transformation–body hair multiplying in patches, fingernails sharpening, enlarging, sense of smell increasing …

But I felt nothing but my own fear.

Wanna read the rest? Click here!

I had to do my annual bra-and-underwear shopping today. Usually I don’t do it more than once a year, because it is a pain in the fucking ass. But, things get old, cats and kittens shred them, gremlins steal them for transvestite parties… end result is: Nonny needs to buy more.

Underwear isn’t that bad, really. The main problem is finding something in black. I have no idea why white and cotton candy pink seem to be the most popular colors considering that most women bleed once a month. And, y’know, pads and tampons are great and wonderful and all that, but they aren’t 100% protective. Blood leaks through and stains undies (if you wear them).

So why, by Lucifer’s navel lint, do people feel the need to stock 90% of women’s underwear in pink or white???

Of course, size 6 underwear in the brand and style (Hanes Body Creations microfiber, bikini style; most comfortable panties evar!) also seems to be the rarest. I could find plenty of panties in size 5, 7, 8, 9, 10, and above. Hell, there were even several pairs of 0 and 2 underwear. 6? Apparently someone got confused about the Number of the Beast and thinks it’s “6″ and not “666,” because I had to dig like a puppy dog on crack to find any in the style I like. (Oh, if only I could stand to wear regular cotton…)

Since I’ve lost a bit of weight since the last time I bought underwear, I bought a size 5. Hopefully those fit well enough. *sigh*

Now, bras … um. Forewarning: Profanity abounds. (Like this is any motherfucking news.)

It is apparently fucking impossible for a woman with 36B cup tits to find a bra that isn’t a cocksucking push-up bra. (Yes, they’re selling talented multi-tasking bras these days.) If you’re a C, D, DD, or above cup, there’s fucking plenty of non-padded, non-pushup pretty lacy bras. WTF do they think, that anyone who has a fucking B rack is insecure and needs to fucking compensate?

I like my tits the size they are. I don’t need a push-up bra to make myself look good. Hell, I had enough people comment on the cleavage from my wedding pictures, and I wasn’t wearing a bra then. The only fucking reason I buy the goddamn things in the first place is because I have some nice shirts and dresses that don’t look right without them. 99% of the time, I don’t bother to wear the things. (Ask Morgan if you don’t believe me.)

Sure, they had sports bras that would “fit” — as much as any sports bra ever does. They fucking crush my tits and hurt my back. Supportive, my ass. I could probably go to a specialty store like Vickie’s and find something, but I don’t want to drop $50 on a piece of clothing I never fucking wear. It’s not that important.

After scouring the racks, I found two bras that might be acceptable — non-underwire, shaped like a normal bra; I think the fabric probably won’t agree with me, but I’ll give it a try. Then I thought about it and decided to look in the girl’s section. I used to find 36B there before, and I thought there was a decent chance I’d find something more acceptable.

Okay… am I the only person who thinks there is something FUNDAMENTALLY FUCKING WRONG when the only thing I can find in the GIRL’S SECTION is push-up bras??????? They didn’t even have the little training bras I used to get; just a few sports bras, and the rest were all push-up or padded.

I am deeply disturbed.

And I am fucking glad I don’t have to do this for another motherfucking year.