Guest Post: Meredith Holmes of Drollerie Press

Some of y’all may remember me—Meredith Holmes, author of Unseelie and short stories such as Widow’s Walk and Saturday Night. And that came off as more “Hi, I’m Troy McClure!” than I intended… Ginger Simpson has been wonderful enough to host me today on her blog and this just thrills me to my toes. Today’s my birthday and talking about writing and actually writing are two of my favorite ways to celebrate! I write primarily romance/urban fantasy. It wasn’t until a few years ago that I even knew there was such a thing as urban fantasy, much less that I wrote it myself!

Urban fantasy is the subgenre (or maybe it’s own genre?) of fantasy literature which is set in contemporary times or settings. Unseelie, if I may use my own book for an example, is urban fantasy because the main (human) character lives and works in the “modern” world. Although most of the action takes place in the realm of the Sidhe, the time and era is our century. I never intended to jump into the genre of urban fantasy—I tried writing high fantasy and alternate realities, working on creating entire worlds… Well, it didn’t work. I kept slipping in modernisms, making the characters have too many touchstones in modern culture. Finally, I just took a deep breath and let it go, wrote what I imagined instead of trying to force it into a high fantasy mold. Saturday Night stopped being an Anne Rice wanna-be and became a short story about two creatures of the night just trying to get by in evening London. Unseelie stopped sounding like a really bad Tolkein knock-off and developed it’s own voice.

Romance is another odd category, at least for me. Growing up, I read a lot of the really cheesy “rape romance” sort of stories. The kind you find tucked behind grandma’s couch cushions or hidden in college dorms, the 200 page or less stories with big, blown-out, Knot’s Landing hair, super-aggressive alpha-males and meek, ultra-submissive women with “fine-textured skin” who were always models. As I got older, I found better books, better writers—Eloisa James and Laura Kinsale spring immediately to mind. Romance lost some of it’s stigma as a genre; it became less an object of derision and more of a nonchalant “Oh, this? I’m just reading this great novel with complex characters and an intriguing plotline… Nothing rapey or bodice ripping here at all!” (Though, to be fair, I do like me some ripped bodices now and then—just with better writing than used to be prolific in the genre.) It became only natural for me to combine my love of romance with my budding urban fantasy writing and fall in love with the offspring of the wonderful union.

That brings me to this: It’s been almost a year since Unseelie came out, a bit less than that since Widow’s Walk was published as a short story. I’m working on a new series, the Personal Demon trilogy, which combines not only the urban fantasy and the romance genres but some new elements as well—characters embracing non-traditional sexualities and proclivities, self-rescuing princesses, and a good dose of sympathy for the devil. Writing is a journey—I know how trite that can sound, but it really is. If you’re afraid to take the first step into unknown territory, you end up stuck in place. I think about that often as I sit here every day and work on the next novel I’m hoping to submit (after computer problems and this whole thrill ride called pregnancy—I’m finally not sick all the time and I’m in a very hyperactive place so let’s hope that lasts one more trimester!); if I had let my wariness of romance take root, or my insistence that fantasy must be high fantasy, then nothing I’ve written would ever have gotten published. I wouldn’t be sitting here now, this blog post open but the first of the Demon novels hovering just beneath it, begging me to write more, to finish the story and send it to Deena at Drollerie Press and cross my fingers. Today’s my birthday and there is no better way for me to celebrate (well, alone, anyway!) than with writing, and letting these little creations grow.

Meredith Holmes

www.meredithholmes.com

More from the Unseelie lot...

Yesterday, Alfhild and Cadfael popped in for a blurb.  Today, it's Du, who's Cadfael's right hand, um, Sidhe.  To find Unseelie to download in pdf, mobipocket or other formats, visit this link.

Du: I'm really not as interesting as all that.  Sure, I'm dashing and handsome and quick with a blade and my wit but I'm not so special.

Who'm I kidding?  I'm a catch.  I've known Cadfael for centuries, growing up together amongst the Unseelie Court, living with the dark ones of the realm.  I was there when Maeve and Mabd first clashed.  I was there with my people when the Seelie Sidhe rode them down, killed them while they slept, ate, worked...  Cadfael kept me sane.  In return, I keep him out of most trouble.  Except this Alfhild situation.  You see, she was foretold. The Snow Queens knew it.  They told us, told the entire Court, and we've been waiting for her.  All except Cadfael.  He couldn't wait.  He had to go get her.  Typical prince, eh?  I did my best to slow him down but there's only so much a Cait Sidhe  can do--I'm strong and quick but I'm small.  Smaller than that lumbering Sidhe, anyway.  Even in my cat-form, I'm a force to be reckoned with.

Alfhild: Ego, much?

Du: Eavesdrop, much?

Alfhild: It's not eavesdropping when you're writing.  It's just being nosey.  Or, in my case, cautious.  

Du:  Too late for caution, isn't it?  Now that you're Alfhild and no longer Lorelei...

Alfhild: Don't remind me.

The first two commenters here will receive a free eARC of  Unseelie and a copy of the reader's guide to go with it!  

Casting Call with Joely Sue Burkhart

When I begin a new project, I always have a "casting call" for my characters. Sometimes I know the actor/actress from a particular movie role; other times, I simply stumble across a photograph and know immediately that's who I'm looking for. A pretty face isn't enough to build an interesting character, though, and some characters prove more difficult than others. This is an interview I held with the hero of my current "Revision Xibalba" or "Revision Hell" project, a Maya Fantasy.

Gregar is a very popular character from my romantic fantasy trilogy beginning with The Rose of Shanhasson, published at Drollerie Press.

~ * ~

Dewayne “The Rock” Johnson sprawled in the chair beside my desk looking very bored.

“So, Mr. Rock.” I smiled nervously. Was that a bruise on his cheekbone? Gregar had been in a foul mood when I’d asked him to retrieve the hero for my next story. “You know the job I have for you. Maya shaman, jaguar shapeshifter. What do you want your name to be?”

“Ruin.”

I blinked. “Yeah, Mayan ruins will play a significant part in the story. But what name would you like? You know, something vaguely Mayan but pronounceable. Jaguar Claw or something, not Itzpapalotl.”

“What’s wrong with Ruin? I like Ruin.”

Okay, so this wasn’t going too well. “Maybe we should come back to your name. Why don’t you tell me about why you’re here. What’s your story goal?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. I’m here because that idiot with the white knife told me he was going to skin me alive and feed me my own balls if I didn’t come with him.”

I shot a dark look at Gregar who parked his ass on the opposite corner of my desk.

“You said bring him.” The Blood shrugged, rolling the ivory rahke back and forth on his palm. “He was reluctant.”

“Did you at least fill him in on the basic story?”

“Brainy chick’s in trouble. She broke some taboo and I’m supposed to kill her.” The Rock yawned. “Chick falls in love with me. I save the day. Piece of cake.”

Groaning, I massaged my temples with both hands. “There’s a little more to the story than that. I need something really terrible in your past. What’s your greatest regret? Your fears?”

The Rock gave me that famous arched eyebrow. “I don’t have any fears. Hey, do I get a cool costume like the one I wore for The Scorpion King?”

“The Scorpion King wasn’t Mayan,” I said very slowly and calmly. I would not scream. I wouldn’t. “You’re going to transform into a jaguar. Isn’t that cool? And you have tattoos. Lots of them. But I really need some details about your past.”

“Why?”

“If I know what you fear, then I can make the Dark Moment more--“ Painful? Terrifying? “Believable.”

“The Rock don’t fear nothing, lady.”

I could be reasonable. “Even Gregar fears something.”

The wretched Blood laughed beneath his breath, shaking his head.

Now I was really getting pissed at him. “I know everything, Gregar. Your darkest fears, your greatest secrets. Don’t mess with me.”

“Or?”

Shadows thickened about him, obscuring my vision. Goose bumps raced down my arms. “Stop it. I gave you that power, and I can take it away. Besides, you’d better cooperate or all that pleading you’ve done to get into Shannari’s bed will be for naught.”

He smirked. “You love me and you know it. Lady.”

The damned Blood was right.

“Hey, get your own story, bucko,” the Rock butted in. “So tell me more about Ruin.”

“Gregar has his own story, thank you very much, and that is *not* your name.” I took a deep breath. “I need *you* to tell me about Ruin. Dammit. Your character.”

“I like cars. That Mustang you’ve got parked out back isn’t bad, but I’d rather have a red one.”

“Sorry, that’s Conn’s car. Besides, you’ll be in a jungle.”

“How about a horse? The black one--“

“That one’s mine, bucko,” Gregar drawled. “If you can sit a horse without falling off, then I’ll eat my memsha.”

“I’ve done horses.”

Gregar laughed so hard he nearly fell off my desk.

The chagrined look on The Rock’s face made me laugh despite my frustration. Gregar always had that effect on people… when he wasn’t trying to kill them.

“Yeah, well, I’ve got a bigger knife than you.”

Ah, now that I could use. “Great. Big knife. Tattoos. What else can you tell me?”

“He’s done horses,” Gregar wheezed.

The Rock growled and started to stand.

“Gregar, why don’t you go practice for book two with Shannari. I’ll finish up with The Rock alone.”

Still laughing, the Blood hopped down and glided toward the door. “I don’t need practice, but I never refuse a chance to annoy her. Maybe she’ll challenge me again.”

With thick sable hair hanging nearly down to his knees and the short cloth about his hips revealing his muscular thighs, he made quite the picture. He knew it, too, pausing at the door to wink at me. “I don’t do horses, though.”

Even The Rock stared after him. “Damn.”

My mouth was rather dry. “Yeah. So what’s your character’s name again?”

“Ruin.”

This was going to be a very long night.

~ * ~

Thanks for having me, Ginger!

Joely Sue Burkhart

An Unseelie Sort of Day

For Bring a Character to Blog week, some of the characters from my new book Unseelie have come out to play.  First in line is Alfhild, the heroine and a human woman like many of us.  Next in the queue will be Du, Jenny Greenteeth, and Cadfael will be along later! They really had a life of their own during the writing process and I'm thrilled to let 'em loose here on Ginger Simpson's blog!  Find Unseelie here at this link!

Alfhild:  How to begin this? Okay, it's like this...  A naked man showed up in my backyard one day and everything went kind of pearshaped after that.  He wasn't a man, really.  I mean... he had the bits and stuff but he wasn't human.  He's a Sidhe.  An Unseelie Sidhe, to be exact (what's the difference, you ask? So did I and boy did I find out!)  It seems that I was marked even before I was born to be part of this whole affair.  I thought I had problems in my human world: a crazy step brother who literally  got away with murder and thought I should be his, an assumed identity, and a best friend who saw a mystery in every shadow.  I had no idea what Cadfael (that was the naked guy) would bring into my life.

See, I left Louisiana a few years before this all began.  My step brother Gulliver had done some really bad things and wanted some really bad things, so I ran away.  Not exactly the most grown-up decision I've ever made, but there ya go.  I ran all the way to England, to a house my grandmother left me in her will.  It had been in our family forever it seemed and Granma had always told stories about it.  Granma, even before she kind of lost her mind, was full of stories about magic and mystical symbols and beings.  I didn't think much of it until Cadfael...

Ever since that day in the garden, my life hasn't been the same.  I'm not just Alfhild from Louisiana, or Lorelei (my assumed name, the one I thought could hide me) from America.  I'm Alfhild of the Seven Snows and Cadfael is....well, he's still Cadfael. 

Cadfael: What's that supposed to mean?

Alfhild: This isn't your turn.  Your turn is later.

Cadfael: You need to tell them the entire story, otherwise it'll sound like I'm some deviant faerie who wandered into your ward for the sole purpose of flashing you.

Alfhild: It's not even close to that!  Though I have to admit I did think that...

Cadfael: See?

Alfhild: The thing is, he did show up naked in my garden but there is much more to the story than that.  There are things in the universe you can't even begin to imagine, things that humans have all but forgotten, just waiting for us.  Waiting for me, it seemed.  And a war is going on just out of reach, just past our line of sight, a war that is about to spill over into the human world and a war I'm supposed to help stop.  Cadfael thinks I can do it.  But really... really, I'm not so sure.

Cadfael:  There.  Was that so difficult?

Unseelie by Meredith Holmes is available at Drollerie Press, Mobipocket and Fictionwise.   You can find Meredith on her website, www.meredithholmes.com or Facebook and Myspace.  The blog is a better bet, though!