Shira Anthony's Blog - Posts Tagged "posts"

I love my readers. Let's face it - without them (you!) I wouldn't have a reason to write! I love it when you write to me about how you enjoyed one of my books, post something on Facebook, tweet about it. It's what keeps me motivated and excited about my writing. Without you, I have no one to share my stories with and, let's face it, that's pretty damn depressing! So I thought I'd take a break from talking specifically about my books and talk a bit about publishing in 2013 and what you, as a reader, can do to encourage your favorite authors to keep at it. This post is about how you, the reader, can help writers in this new age of digital publishing to thrive and create more books that you can relax with or escape into.

I'm not only a writer, I'm also an avid reader. Sure, I have less time to read these days with all the writing and editing I do, but I still read for fun, and I also beta read other authors' books while I'm working on my own. And I try to help other writers just as they try to help me. Many of the same things we do for each other, you can do for your favorite writers. Here's a simple list of ideas for how you can help:

1. Review

Yes, review. Good or bad, writers need reviews. Do bad reviews sting sometimes? You bet. Do writers listen to what you have to say about their books? You bet! And so do other readers. So when you comment on a writer's Facebook page or website and rave about a book you've read, that's great. What's even better? Reviewing the book on Amazon, AllRomanceEbooks, Barnes & Noble, Dreamspinner Press's website (or any publisher's website), and Goodreads. Tell your peers what you loved about the book. Tell them what you didn't love about it. Be kind (because yes, bad reviews do sting), but be honest. Think about the last time you took a chance on a new author. Did you read reviews of their books? Did the reviews influence you to pick the book up? That's why it matters to writers!

2. Post on Social Networks and Spread the Word

Like a book? Excited about an upcoming release? Share it with your friends and family on social networking websites like Twitter, Facebook, Goodreads, G+, and others. For most writers, even writers like me who work with an established publisher, it's word of mouth that helps us get our books out there. The brave new world of ebooks and online publishing is wonderful, but gone are the days when a publisher did the lion's share of promotion. Writers do most promotion of their books now, and you can help retweeting, reposting, and just talking about your favorite authors! I know you've probably seen my own posts about other writers' works. I love to share what I've read and I love it when my readers discover my colleagues' wonderful books. That's what it's all about - spreading the love of reading!

3. "Like" and tag your favorite books!

You know that little "Like" button at the top of pages with books? That button is power. It's another way you can say, "I loved this book," or "I love this author." Other readers notice it, too! And while you're reviewing a book, think about tagging it. Many websites that sell books online have a means to "tag" or categorize a book. Why does this matter? Because it helps other folks find a book. Did you like "Stealing the Wind?" Do you love pirates? Merfolk? Tag it "mermen" or "merfolk" or "pirates" so other readers who are looking for stories about pirates and merfolk can find it more quickly. Use hashtags on Twitter like #lgbt or #romance or #mermen, for example. Your tag can be the connection between a new reader and a story you've enjoyed.

4. Pass it on!

I remember when my first book was published and nobody had ever heard of me. I spent hours posting about my book on social media, blogging on fellow authors' websites, and talking to friends and family about my writing. A friend once said it wasn't worth spending the time posting, that too few people would see those posts. My friend was wrong. Sure, getting your stories out there is a one-person-at-a-time proposition. But one person tells another, and another, and so on. I'm very happy with a "one reader at a time" approach. You found me, didn't you? It's the same way I've found some of my favorite writers and favorite books.

Many thanks (and big hugs) to all of you for making my writing possible! Get out there and share your love of reading with the world. It really does make a difference! -Shira

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PS: Congrats to Trisha, who won the Dreamspinner Press gift certificate in the Suicide Prevention Hop! I'll be in touch with you by email shortly. And thanks to everyone who commented from the bottom of this mother's heart!

 

Welcome autumn, my favorite season! I love the cool nights, the sunny days, and the colorful trees. Pumpkins, Halloween, GayRomLit (okay, so I'm creating my own tradition here!), and Thanksgiving are in the air. And what else? Lots of Blue Notes! And a great giveaway I'll let you all know about at the end of the post!

For readers of the Blue Notes Series, book #5, Encore, is just around the corner! And for those of you who haven't read a Blue Notes book yet, this might just be the one to start with, since the books can be read in any order. The fifth installment in the series is also the first, chronologically.

Encore is the story of Roger Nelson and John Fuchs, and spans nearly 40 years of the characters' lives. Roger, whom you may remember as Alex Bishop's violin teacher in Prelude, and John Fuchs, David Bishop's predecessor at the Chicago Symphony, meet in their senior year of high school. The year is 1971, and the body count from Vietnam War is the lead off for the nightly news. The Stonewall riots happened 2 years before, and John has just figured out he's one of the "deviants who don't like women" his father is talking about.

John and Roger play in their high school orchestra. Roger, the cool kid, wants to be a solo violinist, and John, the shy geek, wants to be a conductor. Opposites who become best friends and then lovers. But being gay in the 1970s isn't exactly easy, and Roger and John struggle to keep their relationship on track when faced with prejudice and tragedy. When it all becomes too much for Roger, he makes the worst mistake of his life: he lets John go.

Through the years and through it all, Roger and John remain best friends. Modern day star-crossed lovers. Meant for each other, but torn apart by society's hatred and their own personal tragedies. How long will it take them to admit that without each other, they are both incomplete?

For me, Encore is a bit of my own childhood revisited. I'm a bit younger than Roger and John, but I remember Vietnam and the birth of the gay rights movement. I knew men like these men, felt some of their pain, saw them struggle through the devastation of the AIDS epidemic in the 1980s, and heard them wish for something more. Things aren't perfect by any means today, but they're SO much better than they were.

Also coming soon is Symphony in Blue, a direct sequel to the first 4 Blue Notes Series books! No release date yet, but probably December. It's got a holiday tie-in, and wraps up some of the unfinished threads from the first four books. Did Cary and Antonio have a child together? Do Aiden and Sam finally get married? What are David and Alex up to? Will Jason play piano again in public? Warm and fuzzy, light on the angst!

Like the Blue Notes books? Would you like to own your own autographed set of the first four paperbacks? I'm giving away a signed set of 4 books (US readers) or a set of ebooks (non-US readers) on November 1st to celebrate the countdown to Encore's release. Enter here: Blue Notes Paperback Giveaway


I'll leave you with an excerpt from "Encore" to whet your appetites. Enjoy! -Shira

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Excerpt from Chapter Seven

June, 1972

John arrived at Olivia’s later than he’d intended. His grandmother had flown in for graduation, and he’d eaten dinner out with his family to celebrate. If you could call it a celebration: it was more like someone’s funeral. His parents barely spoke during the meal, and his grandmother just glared at them both. John had done his best to keep the conversation going, but he’d spent more time than he wanted just looking at his food. When he finally left the house in his mother’s car, it was nearly ten. Well, maybe ten fifteen, since his mother insisted on reminding him not to drink or drive and, to his great mortification, gave him a handful of condoms. “You may be eighteen, but you wouldn’t want to ruin your life by getting a girl pregnant on the night of your high school graduation.” As if that would ever happen!

“Hey, John.” Olivia was a round-faced girl who played oboe in the orchestra and had dated Roger a few times. Nobody went out with Roger more than a few times, and nobody seemed to mind much either. He was just, well, Roger.

“Hi, Livvie.” John’s face was hot as she pulled him inside and handed him a cup of something that looked like fruit punch. Cherry red, like Jell-O. “Thank you for inviting me.”

She giggled and he kicked himself for being so formal. Embarrassed, he took a long drink. It wasn’t punch. Or rather, it was punch, but with enough alcohol that it burned going down. He managed not to cough, but he was sure his face was bright red.

They walked through the living room, where several couples were making out on the sofa and love seat, then headed down to the basement by way of the kitchen stairs. The room was full of people, most of whom he knew or had seen around the band room. The place smelled of pot and cigarettes, and loud music blared from a double set of speakers placed in each corner of the room. “Smoke on the Water.” He’d heard the song before on an eight-track cassette Roger loved to play in the car.

John spotted Roger in the corner, talking to a girl John recognized, a tenth grader. She was watching Roger with the kind of breathless lust that made John feel slightly sick. That, and jealous, although he wouldn’t dignify the emotion by giving in to it.

Roger saw him and waved. John forced a smile and made his way through several groups of people, accepting another cup of the alcohol-with-a-little-red-stuff before sitting down next to Roger.

“Hey, John.” Roger laughed as if John’s name was suddenly funny. His eyes were bloodshot, and John guessed he’d been smoking weed nonstop since he’d arrived. Several empty plastic cups littered the floor beside him. High and drunk.

John finished his own drink in about five minutes, doing his best to ignore the burn at the back of his throat. The stuff was horrible, but it did the trick. His shoulders and neck already felt like jelly—raspberry jelly, he decided as he eased into the sensation—and his mind was blurring rather nicely. Better that way when it came to dealing with Roger and girls.

Someone cranked the volume on the stereo and the tinny speakers crackled. John was glad he was buzzed or the sound would have hurt his ears.

Roger said something to him, but John couldn’t hear it over the music. John pointed to his ears and offered him a shrug. Roger laughed and leaned over, effectively cutting off Miss Tenth Grade from the conversation. “How was dinner?” he asked, his words slurring.

John tried to answer, but Roger rolled onto the floor and nearly into his lap, and he forgot what he was going to say.

“Need more weed.” Roger grinned up at him. “You in?”

“You know I don’t—” John began, but Roger had already gotten to his feet and was pulling him up by his arm. John followed, only vaguely aware of people moving out of their way to let them through. Roger pulled him through a doorway, then closed the door behind them and locked it.

“Don’t wanna share,” Roger mumbled as he pulled a joint from his pocket, lit it, and inhaled.

There was a mattress on the floor, a tiny black-and-white TV propped on a plastic milk crate, and a bunch of psychedelic posters stuck to the wall. John stared at them, trying to decide if they were crooked or if he was just trashed. Probably both. He felt a little dizzy following the swirls around in circles. But maybe that was the pot. The smoke was thick enough that he didn’t think he needed to take a toke to get high.

Roger handed him the joint, mumbling, “I’ll share with you.” He grinned as John took it. “Go on. Try it. Feels good.”

John took a long drag. He smiled at Roger, then began to cough. “Crap!”

“S’okay. Gets better. Try again.”

John blinked away the tears at the corners of his eyes, then drew in more of the smoke. It still burned his throat, and he coughed a little, but he held it longer than before.

“See?” Roger grinned at him and took the joint back, then set it down on an ashtray that was overflowing with cigarette butts.

John nodded and looked back at the posters. “I like the color,” he said to himself. “Like one of those pictures of a nebula or something.”

“Star Trek,” Roger agreed.

John lay on the bed. There was another poster on the ceiling, but it looked blurry, so he just closed his eyes and sighed.

Roger fell back on the bed with a thud, then giggled. John wasn’t sure he’d ever heard Roger giggle. He turned to look at Roger, who was looking back at him with a serious expression. “What?” he asked.

“Nothing.” Roger kept staring at him.

“Come on. Do I look like an alien or something?” He was still thinking about Star Trek, imagining what Leonard Nimoy might look like without the blue uniform top. Pretty good, he guessed.

“Nah. You look good.”

John’s face warmed, but he didn’t say anything. He was too busy eyeing the patch of Roger’s abdomen visible where the fabric of his shirt had scooted up. Roger would look better without a shirt than Spock. Definitely.

Roger rolled onto his side, then pushed himself up on an elbow, his face above John’s. Roger’s odd expression made John feel strange. Horny too. Normally he’d have been mortified for Roger to see him with a boner, but for some reason he didn’t care. He felt really good. Warm and fuzzy and something else: happy. He smiled.

Roger took another toke on the joint, then handed it to John as he held the smoke in. John inhaled, and this time he didn’t cough at all.

“Good stuff,” Roger confirmed.

“It is.” John couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“I’m glad we’re going to college together.” Roger was watching him with the same strange expression as before. It reminded John of the way Roger looked at some of the girls. Dreamy. Kind of sexy.

“Me too.” John hadn’t told Roger just how relieved he’d been when they’d both gotten their acceptance letters to the University of Michigan. They’d only talked about how they could avoid the draft, at least for a few more years. But John had been thinking about more than that. He didn’t know what he’d do without Roger to talk to. And when Roger had asked if he wanted to room with him, John had been even happier.

“You know what I asked you about girls when we were on tour?”

John wasn’t sure how to respond. Of course he remembered it, but he didn’t really want to get into that whole discussion again. “Yes” was all he said.

“I’ve kind of been thinking about it.”

“Why?”

Roger moved closer to him. The joint sat forgotten on the ashtray. “I know this is going to sound weird.” Roger made a funny face—kind of like a slow-motion grin. Or was the pot just making it look that way? “I wasn’t really lying when I said I thought about kissing a guy once.”

John shook his head. “Don’t bullshit me, Roger. I’m not falling for that one again.”

“I’m serious.”

“Fuck you.” John hoped maybe Roger wasn’t bullshitting. Then again, Roger always bullshitted, didn’t he?

Roger leaned closer. Close enough that John felt his breath on his face. Then Roger’s lips met John’s and John bit back a moan. Roger’s lips were warm and slightly moist. Soft too.

Holy crap! John kissed him back. This close, Roger smelled of weed and red punch. Something else too. He smelled like Roger. The thought made John giggle.

“What?” Roger looked a little worried, as if he thought John hadn’t liked being kissed.

“You smell like you. I mean, you smell good.”

John could see relief on Roger’s face. He kissed John again, and this time he put some of his weight on him so John could feel Roger’s erection against his own. John had started to wonder if he was imagining the whole thing, but he was too wasted to care. Besides, in his imagination, Roger had now slipped his arms underneath him and rolled them both onto their sides. Sometime after that, they’d taken their shirts off.

Definitely better than Spock. John touched his fingers to Roger’s chest and traced circles around one nipple, then the other. Imaginary Roger murmured something that came out sounding like “Mmmm… nnnn… uuhhhh.” John decided he wanted to do more than just trace those hard little nubs. Not that he’d ever touched another guy’s nipples before, but he’d sneaked into a gay porn flick once when he’d been on a class trip to New York City, and he had a pretty good idea of what you were supposed to do.

“Fuck, John. What’re you doin’?” Imaginary Roger was grinning, so John figured he was doing okay as he rolled a nipple. After a few minutes, he decided he wanted to taste it. “God. Oh, fucking hell. You’re making me harder than nails.”

 

 

Growing up, I didn't think classical music or classical musicians were particularly sexy. Maybe it had something to do with the image classical musicians back then projected: geeky, intellectual, uptight. Maybe it was just me. I didn't really look for the sexy ones - I was too busy chasing the latest pop stars' albums and videos to be bothered with their classical counterparts. Oh, how I've changed!

When I began writing the Blue Notes Series in 2011, I began listening to classical music again for the first time in years. To be honest, after giving up opera, I found it difficult to just lose myself in the music. Listening was a very painful reminder of giving up my operatic career, and I just wasn't ready. Writing Blue Notes helped begin my healing process. The focal piece of music for that book was a gorgeous Brahms intermezzo (Opus 118, No. 2). Nothing to do with opera, not even violin, which I'd played for nearly 16 years. An easy start. From there, with each book, I began to reacquaint myself with the pieces I'd adored as a child and young adult. And as I did, I began to realize that not only is classical music sensual and hot as hell, so are the new musicians who are giving the genre new life.



First up, the hottest and, admittedly, the focus of my most recent fangirl obsession: David Garrett. Child prodigy, Juilliard grad who helped pay the bills when he was in school by modeling. Yes, modeling. And you can see why. He's candy for your eyes and ears! It was a bit of shock when I saw his photo on Facebook (holding a violin), and assumed that's all he was: a model. This was after I'd written a book about a crossover violinist. With long hair. And tattoos. And no, I hadn't heard about David when I wrote that! Here's David playing "Kashmir" (Led Zeppelin) and here's David playing a bit of my favorite violin concerto, the Tchaikovsky D Major. The man can play!

Next up, another sexy musician, cellist Yo Yo Ma. He's a bit older these days, but in his heyday, he was a total cutie (personally, I still think he's adorable!). A little geeky, but only in the best sense of the word. More than any other modern day classical musician, Yo Yo was the inspiration for the new breed of musicians who look good and play the hell out of their instruments. Here's Yo Yo Ma playing the Dvorak Cello Concerto, the theme song and inspiration for the second book in the Blue Notes Series, The Melody Thief .

Lastly, but hardly least, is violinist Joshua Bell. You may remember Joshua, who was a world-renowned violinist when he took his (very expensive and very old) fiddle and headed for the DC subway to play for tips. Nobody realized what they were listening to! He made a whopping $32 in tips that day. True story (read about it here). You can see the video of the subway gig here. And here's Joshua playing the Saint-Saens Introduction and Rondo Capriccioso in A minor.

Are there others? You bet, including some drop-dead gorgeous female musicians. Are classical musicians the new "rock" superstars? Maybe not yet, but who better than these hot musicians to capture our imaginations and make us dream about what sort of lives these international superstars lead. And, if you're a writer like I am, you'll want to write about those lives. And as long as I find inspiration, that's exactly what I'll continue doing.

Next up in the Blue Notes Series? Book 5, Encore , will be released on November 11th! And this one features hot as hell conductor John Fuchs. So in the meantime, listen good, enjoy the view, and appreciate the all-around hotness that classical music has to offer! -Shira

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Encore (Blue Notes #5), from Dreamspinner Press

Blurb: Cool kid violinist Roger Nelson doesn’t give a damn about anything. Wannabe conductor John Fuchs is awkward, effeminate, and just figuring out he’s gay. Despite their differences, they become friends—then lovers—and after college, they try to make it work. But it’s the 1970s, and Roger can’t bring himself to admit he’s gay. Worse, after his brother is killed in Vietnam, Roger tries to live up to his memory and be the perfect son. Then after suffering one tragedy too many, he makes the biggest mistake of his life: Roger pushes John away.

Through the years, they dance around the truth and in and out of each other’s lives, never quite able to let go. Twenty years later, Roger still carries the pain of losing his dream of a brilliant career with him, while John is a superstar conductor with a wild reputation. John’s off-stage antics get him plenty of attention, good and bad, though deep down, he wants only Roger. Finally determined to hold on to what really matters, Roger asks John for another chance, and when John panics and runs, Roger has to convince him to listen to his heart.

Note: The Blue Notes Series can be read in any order. Each is a stand-alone story from the same classical music universe.

Three weeks to go until the release of Encore (Blue Notes #5) from Dreamspinner Press! I am SO excited for you all to read this one--it's my favorite so far in the series and is a bit of a glimpse into a past I share with these characters. Want a chance to win one or all of the first four Blue Notes books? Be sure to read the instructions at the end of this post to get yourself entered!

Like the other Blue Notes Series books, Encore, is a standalone novel. Readers who have read the other Blue Notes novels will recognize some of the secondary characters, but if you haven't read those yet, this is a great book to start with because it is the first, chronologically, in the series (and probably will stay that way, since I doubt I'll be heading back in time beyond where this book starts in the early 1970s). For those who have read all or some of the books in the series, I hope you'll enjoy getting to see Alex Bishop ( Prelude ), David Somers (Prelude), and Cary Redding ( The Melody Thief ) before they were superstars.

In the coming weeks, I'll be sharing excerpts from the book and letting you know about a terrific Encore blog tour giveaway I'll be running starting on release day, November 11th! But before that giveaway, I've got two others to tell you about:

First, I've got a Goodreads giveaway where you can win a paperback copy of Prelude.

Last, but hardly least.... Do you want a chance to win a Complete Set of Blue Notes Series books? I'm giving away a signed set of 4 books (US readers) or a set of ebooks (non-US readers) on November 1st to celebrate the countdown to Encore's release. Enter here: Blue Notes Paperback Giveaway

I'll leave you with the blurb and an excerpt from Encore - after high school graduation, the first time John and Roger have sex. Good luck on the drawings everyone! -Shira

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Encore, by Shira Anthony from Dreamspinner Press pre-order link: http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=4353&cPath=55_484

Blurb: A Blue Notes Novel

Cool kid violinist Roger Nelson doesn’t give a damn about anything. Wannabe conductor John Fuchs is awkward, effeminate, and just figuring out he’s gay. Despite their differences, they become friends—then lovers—and after college, they try to make it work. But it’s the 1970s, and Roger can’t bring himself to admit he’s gay. Worse, after his brother is killed in Vietnam, Roger tries to live up to his memory and be the perfect son. Then after suffering one tragedy too many, he makes the biggest mistake of his life: Roger pushes John away.

Through the years, they dance around the truth and in and out of each other’s lives, never quite able to let go. Twenty years later, Roger still carries the pain of losing his dream of a brilliant career with him, while John is a superstar conductor with a wild reputation. John’s off-stage antics get him plenty of attention, good and bad, though deep down, he wants only Roger. Finally determined to hold on to what really matters, Roger asks John for another chance, and when John panics and runs, Roger has to convince him to listen to his heart.

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Yesterday, December 1, 2013, was World AIDS Day. And although many of us here in the U.S. were headed back home from the Thanksgiving Day Holiday, there were candlelight vigils and remembrances for the 25 million men, women, and children who have died worldwide since AIDS was first discovered. It's almost too many to really wrap your brain around: 25 million people! And although many people live with HIV/AIDS thanks to amazing breakthroughs in medicine, the goal is ZERO new infections. Zero. Now THAT's a number I can wrap my brain around.

To me, the fight against AIDS is personal. Not only did I know men who died of AIDS in the 1980s (and have dedicated my latest book to them), my husband's work is in part focused on preventing the transmission of HIV from mother to child in the developing world.

The Pratt Pouch, my husband's project, has garnered a great deal of attention from our government as well as from other countries. The pouch is something like a ketchup packet (see photo), but this packet is filled with anti-retroviral drugs that an HIV-positive mother can give her baby in the first day or so of his/her life to prevent the baby from being infected by HIV. Because in many developing countries, mothers give birth to their babies at home, where there are no medical professionals to administer the medicine. Armed with the liquid medicine, which will remain stable in the pouches without refrigeration, Duke University engineers are helping to decrease the number of new HIV infections worldwide.

From an even more personal place, I can speak to the toll the AIDS epidemic left on the community of musicians I was a part of when I was singing opera professionally. My most recent release, Encore , is dedicated to the fight against HIV/AIDS, and in particular to one of my accompanist/coaches, who died of AIDS in the late 1980s. What an incredible loss of talent and youth the musical community suffered as a result of AIDS! Famous musicians such as Freddie Mercury, Liberace, and Tom Fogerty, and those who will only be remembered by their friends and colleagues, like my accompanist/coach, David.

So while we celebrate the holiday season, I felt I needed to stop and consider what a better world this would be without AIDS. A world with ZERO infection. An end to the mounting death toll. In honor of World AIDS Day, I personally pledge to donate $1.00 per book sold from my Dreamspinner catalog on the Dreamspinner website from December 1st through December 7th to Save the Children's Global Action Fund. Buy a book, donate to your favorite charity, but do SOMETHING to make a difference in the fight against AIDS. Zero is the best number of all! -Shira

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Just a reminder: the Blue Notes 2013 Holiday Blog Tour giveaway is still going on. Enter to win great prizes including a Kindle loaded with ebooks, a sterling silver music-themed necklace, and other fun stuff. You can enter more than once by tweeting, liking on Facebook, buying books, and commenting on tour posts. Click here for the Rafflecopter entry form: a Rafflecopter giveaway Giveaway ends on New Year's Eve!

 

Thank you everyone who voted yesterday in the final round "Author of the Month" over at Mrs. Condits and Friends! I won! This is me doing a totally geeky happy dance! I can't thank everyone enough for their support and encouragement.

Mrs. Condit's gave Symphony in Blue and Encore both 5-star reviews in the month of December, which is a huge honor in and of itself. Having all my wonderful readers come out to support me and vote is even better! You can find Becky Condit's review of Encore here. The post with the review of Symphony in Blue is here, along with my own post to celebrate its release.

That said, there were lots of wonderful authors in the running for the contest, and they're definitely worth checking out, including Dreamspinner authors like Grace Duncan, Andrew Grey, and Rhys Ford. You can find my books as well as theirs at the Dreamspinner Press store!

Thanks, everyone who voted ! You guys rock! Thank you! -Shira

 

This post is reblogged from The Blog of Sid Love, where I blog monthly on the 10th of the month. Don't forget that I'm still running a giveaway for a 2014 wall calendar with all my gorgeous Dreamspinner Press covers until Wednesday, February 19th, at midnight! To enter, just comment on this post. Good luck! -Shira

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It’s February, nearly Valentine’s Day, so what better topic to tackle than the allure of Paris, the City of Love? To say that I love Paris is an understatement. I adore Paris. I also know it quite well, having lived in Paris as a very young child, and then spending several years France as a teenager. My parents are not French, but they might as well be. They are quintessential Francophiles and they still spend their summers in the Alps, in a lovely city on a lake called Annecy.


In my early 20s, back when I was still singing, I spent several weeks in Paris. There I met a gorgeous Frenchman (another musician, of course!) and we had a brief but very torrid affair. I remember rides around the Périphérique (the freeway that loops around the city) on the back of his scooter (“moto”). I also remember dinners in his loft apartment with friends, afternoons spent lounging at a café, nursing our coffees while people watching, and making love at night to the sounds of jazz and be-bop. Have I mentioned I love French men? Philippe was the first of several Frenchmen I dated before I got married. There’s just something about their comfortable, casual attitude, good looks, and the way the French language sounds when they speak that makes them so damn sexy….



About five years ago now, two girlfriends and I spent two weeks in Paris. We stayed at my brother-in-law’s apartment near the Jardins du Luxembourg, a gorgeous park complete with long, gravel walkways, gardens, a reflecting pool, and, of course, a chateau. A fifteen minute walk from the Seine and Notre Dame de Paris, the area is one of my favorites. We shopped, went sightseeing, and ate very well. It was January, after a heavy snow (unusual for Paris, which tends toward milder weather), and the skies were overcast and gray. It didn’t matter. Each time I walked out of the apartment, I imagined romance. In fact, I imagined a very particular romance: the romance that was the inspiration for the first book in my Blue Notes series of music-themed gay romances. I imagined Blue Notes .



On February 19th, Dreamspinner will release a 2nd edition of the original book. The new version of Blue Notes is re-edited, reworked, and contains new text based on my free story, “Knowing.” Editing Blue Notes has made me long to take a run in the gardens, walk along the Seine and shop at some of the booksellers there, drink hot cocoa and eat crêpes in a tiny restaurant hidden on one of the side streets. I long to browse the manga stores, sit and listen to jazz in a smoky club, and experience the sounds and smells of the city (yes, even the not-so-pleasant ones!).

Blue Notes is probably the most romantic book I’ve written. How can it not be, when it tells the story of a disillusioned American attorney who runs from his life in the States to discover love and happiness in Paris, the most romantic city I know? When Jason Greene meets jazz violinist Jules Bardon in a hole in the wall jazz club, Jason’s life changes in ways he could never have imagined. With Jules’s help, Jason opens himself up to the possibilities of life, love, and even music. There is much of me in Jason, since I’ve given him my own background growing up in France, as well as a bit of my own musical history.

But you don’t need to be a musician to understand the music or the romance in Blue Notes . The connection between Jules and Jason is about far more than the music, although the initial attraction is inextricably intertwined with Jules’s musical voice. Blue Notes is about finding yourself and letting go. And what better place to do it than in a city as beautiful and storied as Paris?

I’ll leave you with a short excerpt from the book which I hope will give you a taste for my own love of Paris and all it has to offer. –Shira



THE NIGHT sky had begun to clear as Jason left the small café where he’d eaten dinner, and he wandered up toward Île de la Cité, hoping to catch a view of the Eiffel Tower. Crossing the Seine at ten o’clock, he watched as the tower was illuminated in a shower of sparkles. His sister had told him the Parisians had so enjoyed the lighting for the millennium that they’d insisted the special effects continue for the foreseeable future. Leaning against the wall that ran along the river’s edge, Jason thought of nothing but the lights as he ignored the damp chill of the evening.

When the light show ended, Jason headed back down boulevard Saint-Michel in search of some of the jazz clubs he’d discovered hidden amongst the tiny streets years ago. Normally he’d have asked a friend for a recommendation or consulted a guidebook on his phone. But tonight he didn’t do either. Other than hopping the plane to Paris, how long had it been since he’d done something spontaneous? Other than the night he’d walked in on Diane having sex with someone else, his entire life had become predictable. Boring.

Why not?

He had nowhere to go, nobody waiting for him, no deadlines to meet. He could sleep late. A few drinks and some good music would help him sleep a lot better anyhow. He grinned and walked onward, cold hands shoved into his pockets.

Why the hell not?

He spotted a club as he turned the corner—a small, grayish- looking dive with a purple neon sign above the entrance, nestled between a bakery and a store that sold Japanese manga. Inhaling the fragrance of pastries baking in the boulangerie, he walked over to peer inside. He couldn’t see anything, but the sounds of modern jazz wafted onto the street. He glanced up and read the sign: “Le Loup-Garou.” The Werewolf.

A fitting name for a hole like this. And just the kind of place where you’d expect to hear great music.

******

You can find the entire Blue Notes Series at Dreamspinner Press, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, AllRomanceEbooks, and most other book retailers. Here’s the link for the pre-order of the 2nd Edition of Blue Notes: http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=4720&cPath=55_484

******

About Shira: Shira Anthony was a professional opera singer in her last incarnation, performing roles in such operas as Tosca, Pagliacci, and La Traviata, among others. She’s given up TV for evenings spent with her laptop, and she never goes anywhere without a pile of unread M/M romance on her Kindle.

Shira is married with two children and two insane dogs, and when she’s not writing, she is usually in a courtroom trying to make the world safer for children. When she’s not working, she can be found aboard a 35’ catamaran at the Carolina coast with her favorite sexy captain at the wheel.

Shira’s Blue Notes Series of classical music themed gay romances was named one of Scattered Thoughts and Rogue Word’s “Best Series of 2012,” and The Melody Thief was named one of the “Best Novels in a Series of 2012.” The Melody Thief also received an honorable mention, “One Perfect Score” at the 2012 Rainbow Awards.

Shira can be found on:
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/shira.anthony
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4641776.Shira_Anthony
Twitter: @WriterShira
Website: http://www.shiraanthony.com
E-mail: shiraanthony@hotmail.com

It's release day and a first for me: a second edition! It's also the last day of my special Blue Notes giveaway where you could win the last of my 2014 Dreamspinner Press cover calendars. To enter, just comment on this post!

Yes, the original Blue Notes , the first book in the Blue Notes Series, has been released in a brand-spanking-new 2nd edition. Totally re-edited so it shines, the new edition also contains about 3,000 words of new text based on the short story, "Knowing," which some of you may have read as part of the Gay-Straight Alliance's Goodreads Group. That short story details a bit of attorney Jason Greene's past growing up in Cleveland, Ohio (my home town!), and his first and only same-sex sexual encounter before he meets violinist Jules Bardon in Paris, France, many years later.

For readers who purchased the original book from Dreamspinner Press, you'll find the new edition sitting on your bookshelves, should you like to re-read the story. Of course, all the Blue Notes Series books are standalone stories. Secondary characters in one story may appear later on in their own stories. In fact, you'll find several characters in Blue Notes who already have their own stories: conductor David Somers and violinist Alex Bishop ( Prelude ), attorney Sam Ryan ( Aria ), and Italian attorney Antonio Bianchi ( The Melody Thief ) all make appearances in the original story.

Haven't purchased the book yet? It's 25% off on Dreamspinner Press's website until midnight, February 19th (that's today). So pick up a copy in ebook or paperback, and you'll get a great release day deal, too! All the other books in the series are discounted, as well for Valentine's Day!

I'll leave you all with an excerpt from the first chapter of Blue Notes. Hope you enjoy it! -Shira

******

Blurb: Blame it on jet lag. Jason Greene thought he had everything: a dream job as a partner in a large Philadelphia law firm, a beautiful fiancée, and more money than he could ever hope to spend. Then he finds his future wife in bed with another man, and he’s forced to rethink his life and his choices. On a moment’s notice, he runs away to Paris, hoping to make peace with his life.

But Jason’s leave of absence becomes a true journey of the heart when he meets Jules, a struggling jazz violinist with his own cross to bear. In the City of Love, it doesn’t take them long to fall into bed, but as they’re both about to learn, they can’t run from the past. Sooner or later, they’ll have to face the music.

******

JASON GREENE leaned back against the headrest and watched the clouds beneath the wing of the airplane. Used to traveling business class, with all six foot three of him now wedged into the narrow coach seat, he cursed every aeronautical engineer who had ever suggested refitting wide-bodied jets to accommodate more passengers.

He eyed the center section of the cabin with longing, regretting that he’d chosen a window seat. Several college students with more foresight were already stretched out on the few empty seats in the back to sleep during the long flight from Philadelphia to Paris. In the final analysis, however (and, exceptional lawyer that he was, he always analyzed), it was his fault alone that he should suffer the indignities of traveling like an eighteen-year-old again; it was his foolhardy last-minute decision that had landed him here.

What the hell were you thinking?

The thought had run like an endless loop through his exhausted mind for the past three hours. He knew the answer, of course: he hadn’t thought at all, he’d just reacted. He’d done a lot of that lately.

A female flight attendant—blonde, attractive, and in her midthirties—stopped at his row with a stack of plastic cups and a pitcher of water. “Something to drink?” she offered, her voice a sensual undertone. No doubt she appreciated the lone well-dressed man amidst the myriad students wired to iPods, iPads, and other devices.

He’d come to dismiss such attention; he’d long engendered this kind of response from women. With his wavy auburn hair, strong jaw, and bright-green eyes, he was, as his grandmother often reminded him, “quite a catch.” Add to that a salary well into the six-figure range and his job as an equity partner at a large Philadelphia law firm, and Jason Greene had never had much trouble finding women to date. Except that he hadn’t quite managed to keep the woman he’d fallen in love with happy.

“Yes, some water, please,” he replied, offering the flight attendant the same pleasant, reassuring smile he’d offered his clients for the past ten years. The same smile he’d offered Diane upon his return home to their high-rise apartment each night, having missed dinner yet again. It was far more effective with the flight attendant.

She handed him a cup of water. “Business or pleasure?” Perhaps she mistook his politeness for something more like interest. (He wasn’t interested—he’d had enough of women to last him a lifetime.)

“Neither,” he answered, forestalling any further discussion. She responded with a slight chuckle, then moved on to the next row back.

He closed his eyes and pressed the button to recline his seat. It only moved about an inch. He looked around. He hadn’t noticed his seat was right in front of an exit row. Figures. He shook his head. Resigned to his fate, he grabbed the extra pillow off the empty seat next to his and pushed up the armrest to give himself more room. He pulled the slippery blue polyester blanket over himself and shifted on an angle to tuck his long legs under the aisle seat in front of him. It wasn’t comfortable, but it would do.

He looked out the window once more. It was dark now, and here, above the clouds, he saw stars. He closed his eyes and rearranged the pillows so that his head rested against the cool bulkhead. He drifted off into an uneasy sleep with the drone of the engines in his ears.

ONLY A day before, he’d been dressed in a charcoal-gray Armani suit with a yellow-striped Brooks Brothers tie, looking out a wall of windows at the thickening gray clouds over Philadelphia. The forecast called for snow. Again.

“You want what?” Scott Reston, the managing partner of Halwell, Richardson & Dailey, leaned back in his chair and gaped at Jason as though he were an alien.

“I’m taking a leave of absence,” Jason repeated calmly. “Starting tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Scott’s voice resonated with shock. “Jason, I know you’re pissed that Diane—”

“I’ve worked my ass off for this firm,” he countered before Scott could complete his sentence, all the while maintaining his calm resolve. His jaw tightened in spite of his control.

“I’ve been pulling in enough billables to more than cover a few months off.”

“Months?” The word came out in a half-strangled gasp. “You want months? Look, Jaz, if you need help, I can put the new kid—what’s his name, Sanderson?—on some of your cases.”

“It’s not about the caseload. I haven’t taken time off in years, except the trip with Diane to her sister’s wedding. I need—”

“Then take a few weeks,” Scott interrupted, no doubt hoping this settled the matter. “Go somewhere warm. You can use our apartment in Cancun if you want. Maybe you can pick up some cute Mexican babe while you’re—”

“Two months, Scott.” Jason lapsed into his commanding courtroom voice without a second thought. “The other partners won’t question it if you’re on board. Hell, if you want, I’ll take a smaller draw this year.” The rumble of Jason’s deep baritone caused one of the paperweights on Scott’s desk to vibrate.

“Hell, Jaz Man. It’s me, remember? The guy you pulled all-nighters with in law school? That lawyer shit won’t work here. And since when do you let a bitch like Diane—”

“Drop it.” Jason knew his tone was colder than the icicles that hung on the eaves outside the building, but he didn’t give a shit. This was one subject he wasn’t going to get into with Scott—or anyone else, for that matter. “This wasn’t her fault.”

“The fuck! She cheated on you.”

“I said, drop it. Whatever she did, she had her reasons.”

Reason one: too many hours spent at the office. Reason two: too few hours spent at home. Both your fault.

“Jaz Man….” Scott groaned and leaned back in his chair with the same party-boy look Jason remembered from law school. “Jaz, you’re killing me. I’m up to my neck in depos in the Alvarez case, and TransAllied just sent me a class-action complaint in a race case out of Cleveland. You’re the only one licensed up there.”

“Nothing’ll happen in the next two months on the Cleveland case, and you know it,” he shot back. “I’ll remove it to federal court, and one of your new hires can start on a motion for summary judgment and getting documents together for discovery. And if the judge wants a local guy in on the scheduling conference, you can call my buddy Phil Lane up there to handle it. He owes me one.”

Scott’s frown deepened. “I can’t convince you that you’re a crazy asshole, can I?”
“Unlikely,” he replied with a self-deprecating laugh. “You’ve had more than ten years to try.” He took a deep breath, allowed his shoulders to relax a bit, and made an attempt to soften his expression. “Look, Scotty… I need this. It’ll only be for two months. I promise I’ll come back and make it up to you. Just two months.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Scott exhaled, sounding a bit like a pipe releasing steam. “Fine. I’ll take the heat from the big guns. With all the money you’ve been pulling in for the past few years, they’ll squawk a little, but they’ll be more worried about losing you for good.”

“Thanks.” Jason turned to leave.

“So where’re you going? Backpacking in South America? Some desert island in the Caribbean?” Scott asked. “Buddhist retreat in Tibet?”

“Paris.” Jason stopped at the door with his fingers curled around the handle.

“Paris in January?”

“Yeah.”

“Cold as hell, I hear.”

“Yeah. Something like that."

******

You can purchase Blue Notes (2nd Edition) here: http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=4720

On this cold winter's morning in usually warm North Carolina, as I slog through the second round of edits for the upcoming, Into the Wind , I thought I'd share a bit of the writing process seen through this writer's eyes. I'll blog about the process as I experience it, and not in any particular order, but so you, the reader, can get a sense of what it's all about.


There's not much I love more than to hear a reader's excitement when I post that I've just submitted a new book to my publisher, or that I'm working on edits for an upcoming release. Often the response is "Why is is taking so long???" Sometimes, honestly, it does feel like forever from the inception of a book until I see it in print. In truth, though, it's usually less than a year from the time I write the first word until I hold that paperback author copy in my greedy little hands! The editing process itself takes about 4 months from first edits to release.

I am particularly fortunate to have a great executive editor I work with on my Dreamspinner Press books. It's one of the reasons I haven't looked any further than Dreamspinner when shopping my books around (there are many other reasons I continue to choose Dreamspinner, of course, but this is one of the biggest for me). The executive editor manages teams of editors who read and edit manuscripts before publication. What does that mean for me, the writer?

Round 1. First, the main/supervising editor sends me a marked up manuscript. I call this the "ouch!" stage. Starting out, I remember looking at my manuscripts with all the markups and wincing. I've since learned that all those tracked changes and comments in the margin are good for me! We're talking basic copy editing, but much, much more. Then there's dreaded "content editing" I've come to depend upon (and even enjoy). That's the "I didn't understand why [insert character name here] did this." Or the, "I think you're missing a connection here in this character's development." Or the, "This makes no sense at all!" Let me give you an example.

The Melody Thief is one of my strongest books. At least I think so. But I'm convinced it's strong because it had great editing. It was also one of the first books I asked for content edits on. My first round edits came with a suggestion: show Cary Redding becoming less of a boyfriend living with Antonio and his young son, and more of a father. Not spoiling much here to say that Cary was nowhere near father material at the beginning of the story, but by the end he truly becomes a father to Massimo. My editor's suggestion? A brand new chapter showing how Cary finally steps up to the plate. And Massi isn't exactly in cute/sweet mode. That chapter, written during edits, became my favorite of the book. Massi has a hissy fit, Cary puts his foot down, and Massi is not a happy camper. But at the end of the chapter, Massi and Cary move into father/son territory. That's not the first (or last) time I've added significantly to a book during edits, but it's one of the best examples of how helpful an editor's suggestions were.

Round 2. Round 3. After the first round of edits, we do a little back and forth dance at least twice more. Each round of edits is done by a new editor, supervised by the main editor. I respond to comments and questions, I make changes, I add new text as needed. Back and forth and back and forth for three rounds, then I get the "galley."

Galley Proof. For those who may not know, the galley is a mock-up of what the actual book will look like including photos, fancy chapter headings, and even front and back matter (glossaries, dedications, that sort of thing). At this stage, it's all about catching the obvious typos that we've missed and making sure the formatting looks all right. No changes made in the galley itself, I write my changes in a separate document (I use a chart with page numbers, original text, and suggested corrected text). At this point, it's out of my hands. I don't see the book again until it's published, although the editing staff do at least one more check after that. I personally review my galley proofs by reading the book on screen and listening to it on my Kindle at the same time (I can upload Word docs to my Kindle, which has a text-to-speech feature). As a former musician, I find I catch typos better if I listen and read, rather than just read.

A good editor can help a willing writer improve his/her style of writing. I say "willing," because if a writer is so convinced s/he doesn't need improvement, forget about it! I'm convinced my writing style has changed for the better with my editors' help. Style is not just about comma placement or sentence structure, either. It's about finding a personal "voice" in writing that suits the writer. I prefer clean, clear, crisp writing. Active voice, simple or no dialogue tags so they don't get in the way of the conversations between characters. I've refined my style with the help of my editors. Pick up a Shira Anthony book written in the last two+ years, and you'll hear my voice, whether it's a story about musicians in Italy or mermen in an alternate universe fantasy. It sounds like Shira.

Lest you think editing is all roses, think again. Editing takes hours of work, both on the editors' part, as well as mine. Writing entirely new chapters while you're trying to get your latest manuscript out the door (Dissonance and Into the Wind, *cough, cough*)? Hair tearing-out time! Rewriting an entire chapter from a different point of view because your editor (and you, begrudgingly agree) suggests it will help balance the different points of view in the book? Time to bang your head against the wall. Readers who say they love how easy to read your books are? Yep. Makes it worth all the angst, thinning hair, and head-dents. Truly.

Want to take a peek at my latest book in edits? Here's a passage from Into the Wind for you. Not the final version, I'm guessing, but getting close now. Is it better than the original version I sent to Dreamspinner in December? Damn straight! Hope you enjoy it! -Shira

******

Blurb: Since learning of his merman shifter heritage, Taren has begun building a life with Ian Dunaidh among the mainland Ea. But memories of his past life still haunt him, and as the threat of war with the hostile island merfolk looms ever closer, Taren fears he will lose Ian the same way he lost his beloved centuries before. Together they sail to the Gateway Islands in search of the fabled rune stone—a weapon of great power the Ea believe will protect them—and Odhrán, the pirate rumored to possess it.

After humans attack the Phantom, Taren finds himself washed up on an island, faced with a mysterious boy named Brynn who promises to lead him to Odhrán. But Taren isn’t sure if he can trust Brynn, and Odhrán is rumored to enslave Ea to protect his stronghold. Taren will have to put his life on the line to find his way back to Ian and attempt to recover the stone. Even if he does find it, his troubles are far from over: he and Ian are being stalked by an enemy who wants them dead at all costs.

******

Taren transformed as he entered the warm tropical water with a splash. He’d grabbed an ax as he’d run, ignoring Ian’s shouts. He didn’t need Ian to tell him about the danger. There’d been no time to argue over the danger involved in attacking the brigantine from below. But if this worked…. He’d barely caught his breath when he had to dive deep to avoid a deadly blow to the head from the enemy ship’s keel as she passed over him. Pumping his powerful tail, he swam after the Phantom’s challenger. He knew Ian would be angry with him for taking such a risk—he could almost feel that anger burn hot within his own heart. He’d face Ian’s wrath later. Had the Ea become so complacent in their human forms that they’d forgotten what they were?

The enemy brigantine was sleek and faster than the Phantom. They’d been nearing the Gateways, the chain of islands just west of Ea’nu, looking for Odhrán, the pirate rumored to possess the rune stone, when they’d been set upon. Taren surmised the brigantine’s captain knew the Phantom would be in the vicinity, and had waited in the mist until she could gain the weather beam over them. Strange. Stranger yet, he’d sensed that the ship held humans when it passed over him. Why would humans pursue them? Had they learned of the existence of merfolk, or did they believe them to be pirates?

No. It’s more than that. This all felt so familiar, as if he’d dreamed it. Expected it. Sensed something he hadn’t understood until just now.

Several more cannon blasts narrowly missed the Phantom and landed in the water nearby, bringing Taren back to himself. He fought the rising swells and powerful current as the wind picked up speed, echoing his own growing apprehension and worry for Ian and the Phantom’s crew. He dove, pumping and flexing the powerful flukes of his tail to propel him toward the enemy ship.

He reached her rudder a minute later. As fast as she was, he fought to keep up with her as he swung the ax at the place where the pintles and gudgeons met to hold the rudder in place. He’d expected resistance when the axe struck the metal of the hinges. He didn’t expect the force that threw him backward and knocked the ax from his hand.

Magic? Vurin had taught him to sense it, but he’d been too distracted by his work on the sails to feel it before. But how would a human ship use magic? What a fool he’d been to assume Ian and the other Ea wouldn’t have sensed it as well.

Taren heard another explosion right before it reverberated through the sea, and he watched beneath the water as the Phantom’s keel turned sharply and she suddenly lost speed. Even with her crew’s skill, without the wind, the Phantom would have no chance of outrunning the enemy. Would Ian surrender to the humans? Could he? If the humans knew what they were….

Of course they know! They’re using magic. He needed to get back to the ship. Help them fight the humans. On the ropes, he could do something. Here in the water, he was helpless.

He broke the surface of the water and glided easily over a swell using his tail to keep his head above the waves. He couldn’t remain above the surface long. His Ea lungs protested the air, created as they were to breathe oxygen through water. But he needed to see the plight of the Phantom for himself.

He watched as half a dozen men climbed the brigantine’s masts. They were readying to raft alongside the Phantom and board her. In a minute, perhaps two, they’d swing from the masts and land on the Phantom’s deck. Taren’s heart grew cold with fear, and the air whipped around him as he prayed the wind would change direction. If the Phantom could gain even a modicum of speed, her crew might outmaneuver the humans.

The reverberation of multiple volleys of cannon fire radiated through the water and sent fear through Taren. The first missed its mark, but the second shattered the mizzenmast. Pain seared Taren’s heart and he knew Ian had been hit. Panic shot up his spine as he felt Ian lose consciousness. No! Goddess, no! Please, you can’t take him! Not when I’ve just found him again!

Taren prayed once more that the winds would shift. If the Phantom could gain some speed, he had faith their ship could outmaneuver the humans even with the damage to the mizzen—Barra, their navigator, knew these waters well, knew the reefs well enough to navigate between them, whereas the humans might not. If he isn’t too badly hurt. Even though his connection to Ian had grown stronger since Taren had come to live among his people, he could only sense that Ian was alive, nothing more.

The surface of the water rippled, although this time it was not on account of the battling ships. The wind. Had the goddess heard his prayer? He closed his eyes and imagined the goddess’s hand coaxing the wind to shift to favor Ian and his crew. He felt the wind stroke his cheeks, felt its fingers stir the water. Imagined the Phantom’s sails filling and the feel of the helm as it pulled against the rudder.

Taren felt the zing of magic caress his skin—a familiar sensation he tried to place—but his attention was drawn upward by the sound of an explosion. He looked up in time to see something dark speed toward him: another volley of cannon fire. He flexed his tail and swam down. The cannonball missed him by inches. As he sank beneath the water with a heavy heart, a flash of movement filled his peripheral vision, the outline of a tail. Before he could turn to get a better look, something hit him hard in the back of the head.

He valiantly fought the urge to surrender to the darkness, but his eyes fluttered closed.

Rest now, a voice in his mind commanded, and he knew no more.

 

 

Ian lay flat on his back, looking up at the mizzenmast—what was left of it. The mast itself was cleaved in two, the upper topsail was missing, and the lower hung from the ropes over the mizzen sail. With the help of a strong arm, he pulled himself up to a sitting position.

“Damn him! I should keep him on a leash as often as he sees fit to dive overboard.”

Renda frowned at him with concern. “Are you all right?”

“Of course,” Ian growled as he ignored the pounding in his head and the warmth of the blood that trickled from his scalp. “It’s Taren I’m worried about.”

“You’re not all right.”

“And what would you have me do about it?” Ian stood, swayed, then steadied himself on Renda’s shoulder.

“At least let me stop the bleeding.”

Ian ignored Renda and stumbled back to the wheel. He’d expected to see Barra there, since he’d been shouting commands to the other men while Ian steered, but instead saw Keral, one of the other hands. At least he’d the sense to take over the helm while Renda fussed over Ian like a mother hen. The ship bucked and shuddered as Keral turned sharply to avoid another cannon blast. Ian gritted his teeth and grabbed Renda’s arm, thankful that he was nearby.

They were out of options. Even with the mizzen sails intact, they’d been outpaced by the smaller ship. With the mizzenmast destroyed, they would be far slower and the Phantom would be more difficult to steer. Ian was just about to tell Keral to give the order for all but his officers to abandon ship when a gust of air brushed his cheek. For a split second, he sensed something familiar about the wind, as if it had stirred a memory buried deep in his soul. Then the feeling fled and he realized the wind had shifted to the northeast. A moment later, he felt the Phantom’s remaining sails catch the wind. The ship began to pick up speed, moving away from the enemy ship, which had slowed so its crew might board.

“Hard to starboard,” Ian ordered. “Now!”

Keral spun the wheel and the ship heeled dangerously close to the waves. “Fire!” Ian shouted to the men manning the guns.

The pain in Ian’s head, which had until then been just a dull ache, lanced with reverberations from the cannon blast. At nearly the same time, he felt another pain at the back of his head

Taren!

Ian dropped to his knees and clutched his head as his heart beat so hard against his ribs that it hurt. Goddess! Taren!

“Let me help you.” There was none of the usual chiding in Renda’s voice as he gently pulled Ian’s hand from his left temple. Ian felt the warmth of Renda’s healing against his skull. With the touch, Ian’s pain abated.

“Taren,” he moaned when he came back to himself. He reached out with his mind and felt the beat of Taren’s heart. Slower than before, but steady. Knocked out, perhaps, by the last volley?

“You felt his pain?” Renda asked, clearly surprised.

Ian nodded. “He’s alive. But he’s unconscious. Injured. I must find—”

“A hit, sir!” one of the men shouted over the howling wind.

With Renda’s help, Ian got back to his feet. He saw it now—the smoking wound in the enemy ship’s stern. She floundered, her rudder damaged and no longer able to control her course. Even if she used her sails to steer, the Phantom would be long gone. Ian murmured a prayer of thanksgiving to the goddess. Now, if he could find Taren, he’d rest easy.

Thought I'd share a bit more of my writing process with you as part of my "Writer's World" blog theme. Since I just turned in the manuscript for Dissonance , the next Blue Notes Series book, and am deep into the planning stages of the last Mermen of Ea Series book, Running with the Wind, what better thing to talk about than the planning stage of a story.

Everyone plans differently. But I'm convinced that if you want a story with a real beginning, middle, and end, you need to do at least a little bit of planning. Which leads me to the question I've been asked a few times in blog interviews: are you a plotter or a pantser?

A plotter is someone who plots out their entire story before writing a word of it. Some plotters even outline complete scenes and chapters. A pantser is someone who writes by the seat of their pants (yeah, love that one!). I'm a hybrid. I almost always have a broad scope outline of the story I'm about to write. Then I pants it from there, working my way through chapters without a detailed outline of what the chapter will be about. I'll talk about that in another blog post - how I pants once I've got the "bones" of a story.

So how do I create the bones (prepare to write, really)? I'll use The Melody Thief as an example, since it's a standalone book not dependent upon any other plots (as opposed to my mermen books, the three of which are really one longer story). Keep in mind that The Melody Thief is more character than plot driven (something I'll talk about in a later post), so this is my approach for those sorts of stories.

Step One: Imagine the characters. Easy enough to say, for example, that Cary Redding (the focus of Thief), is a cellist. Okay, but that's only a little interesting. What's more interesting? Figuring Cary out. What drives Cary? Who is he? Who will he be paired with to make the story interesting (i.e. create tension between the MCs)? Then I do the same thing with the second MS, in this case, Antonio.

Step Two: Figure out the primary conflict or, in the case of a character driven story, what the main character(s) path of growth will be. This is tricky. I'm not a fan of static characters who never change, but it's hard to pull off a story where both characters change by leaps and bounds (at least in a single book). So I usually focus on one in particular to do the most changing. For The Melody Thief, that was easy. Cary would be the focus. He's the most messed up and in need of saving. He is the "melody thief." By the way, this step usually determines what point of view I write in (a topic for another day).

Step Three: Figure out where the character's growth starts and where I want him to end up. How do I take him from Point A to Point B in his personal journey? In the case of Cary, he starts out a mess because of his crappy childhood and insecurities. He feels undeserving of the accolades he receives from his music, but he loves to play. Lots of internal conflict here. How does that manifest? In the form of an addiction to anonymous sex and fear of commitment (because who would want to commit to him, as undeserving as he is?). Where I want him to end up? I know I want him to have a HEA and end up in a long-term relationship. I'm not exactly sure at this point what that looks like. This is where the pantsing part comes in much later, when I'm writing.

Step Four: Create the plot to hang the growth on (plot bunnies!) . In this case, Antonio as rescuer (literally, when Cary is mugged and Antonio saves his life), forces the two MCs together. Then give the two MCs some real life challenges they have to face together so that they are forced to grow. Without spoiling too much, suffice it to say that Cary's past and Antonio's son, Massimo, become those challenges.

Step Five: Create touchpoints. Plot points, really, that I know I want to hit. Cary lying to Antonio about who he is and the shit hits the fan moment when the truth comes out, for example. Cary having to choose between a life with Antonio and a life he'd always dreamed of as a kid. Antonio having to face his own demons when he realizes he may lose custody of his son. Last, but hardly least, the final scene that wraps things up. Yes, I always know what the ending will be, even if all the details aren't clear.

That's it. The birth of a story. Messy? Yep. Is this everyone's process? Nope. But it works for me with these character driven stories. More to come on some of the topics I've hit upon in this post. I hope you enjoyed it!

I'd love to hear your thoughts about the process. Feel free to ask questions! -Shira