Today, I'm so pleased to have Ash Krafton here to talk about she's attempted to assure her father that writing fantasy will never cause her to have writer's burn out. Be sure to check out her great new release, Blood Rush, as well as the terrific contest at the end of this post.
Writer’s Burn Out by Ash Krafton
My dad called me the other day. (I think he does it to make
sure I’m keeping out of trouble. Little does he realize, I’m crafty enough to
avoid getting caught.) Our phone calls always start the same: How are you, what’s new with the kids, what
are you up to today?
This summer, I’m completing Book Three of the Demimonde, so
I answer that last question pretty much the same way, every time. Going to get some writing done today.
“Oh, honey,” he said. His voice was heavy with genuine
concern. “Don’t burn yourself out.”
Burn myself out? Was he KIDDING?
I giggled through the rest of the conversation, which was
kind of on the short side for him. I think he really did think I’d finally gone
over the deep end.
Truth is, I can’t imagine a job that would be less likely to
burn myself out than writing. That’s because I can’t imagine a job I’d want to
do more.
I have a full time career in pharmacy and, believe me, that
burns out a person fast. High pressure, low appreciation, no lunch breaks,
and—gak, I can spit saying it—insurance company phone calls. If it wasn’t for
the deep personal satisfaction I get from my practice, I’d have bailed years
ago.
Writing is my second job. I can’t rightly call it a hobby
anymore, although it will always feel like one—and that’s why I can never get
writer’s burnout.
All the writers I’ve met may have become my professional
network but, to me, they are friends and buddies on whom I can depend for
advice, encouragement, and lots of fun distractions. Book conventions? Summer
camp for writers: time to shop and make new friends. And the biggest part of
it—the writing—is the greatest joy of all.
Especially writing this series…the Books of the Demimonde.
Bleeding Hearts (Demimonde #1) was my book baby. When it received
an offer from Pink Narcissus Press, I was over the moon
and I pretty much haven’t touched the ground since. The world I created, full
of demivamps and werewolves and the others who hide within our society, is
someplace I’d really like to live. Especially if Marek were really out there.
*wink*
Blood Rush (Demimonde #2) continues the story of Sophie and
her demivamps, although this story is sleeker and faster than the debut. That’s
because the scene is set, the rules are down, and the world is built—so it’s
time for action…and, time for Rodrian to get the attention you know he loves.
I’m writing Wolf’s Bane (Demimonde #3) right now. Every day
I get to open up the pages of that world, changing the destinies of my
characters with the tap of the keyboard. What lies in store for Sophie and the
other denizens of Balaton? Only I know for sure…and the story grows and blooms,
day by day. See what I mean about being over the moon?
And my dad thinks I can get burn out doing this.
Parents can be so weird sometimes.
Don’t forget to check out the tour giveaway and good
luck—thanks for entering and for taking a moment to check out the Books of the
Demimonde!
Blood Rush
The Books of the Demimonde, Book 2
The Books of the Demimonde, Book 2
Ash Krafton
Genre: urban
fantasy
Publisher: Pink
Narcissus
Date of
Publication: May 14, 2103
ISBN: 9781939056016
Number of pages:
353
Word Count: 94000
Cover Artist:
Duncan Eagleson
Book Description:
Sophie doesn't
believe in happily ever after. These days, she'd settle for alive after
sunrise.
Advice columnist and newly-appointed oracle to the demivampire, Sophie Galen has more issues than a Cosmo collection: a new mentor with a mean streak, a werewolf stalker she can't shake, and a relationship with her ex's family that redefines the term complicated. And then there's her ex himself, who is more interested in playing leader of the vampire pack than in his own salvation.
Becoming a better oracle is tough enough, but when Sophie encounters a deadly enemy - one she never dreamed of facing - it will take everything she's ever learned in order to survive.
Advice columnist and newly-appointed oracle to the demivampire, Sophie Galen has more issues than a Cosmo collection: a new mentor with a mean streak, a werewolf stalker she can't shake, and a relationship with her ex's family that redefines the term complicated. And then there's her ex himself, who is more interested in playing leader of the vampire pack than in his own salvation.
Becoming a better oracle is tough enough, but when Sophie encounters a deadly enemy - one she never dreamed of facing - it will take everything she's ever learned in order to survive.
Excerpt:
I don't believe in happily ever after. These days,
I'd settle for alive until sunrise.
I never thought I'd become a nine-to-fiver.
Certainly never thought I'd be too pre-occupied to make fun of myself for being
one. Sometimes the irony was too great to appreciate.
While I waited for the elevator to arrive at The
Mag's foyer, I smoothed my scarf along the back of my neck and hefted my tote
bag a little higher on my shoulder. Every chime increased my trepidation,
tightening the fist of anxiety in my chest and the sensation of bees swarming
in the top of my stomach. I hated quitting time.
More underappreciated irony. Why not?
People chatted around me but I fidgeted with my
zipper, keeping my gaze lowered and my mouth closed. Leaving at five in the
afternoon meant more than crammed elevators and crowded buses; it meant the
light would fade soon and with it my peace of mind. The autumn wasn't a happy
golden foliage time of year for me anymore.
Although it was only early October, already the
longer nights and shorter days made me feel nervous and brittle. Bad enough I
didn't have a sweetheart to share the long nights but even worse now that I
knew what came out when the sun went down. Although I hadn't had any problems
with vampires over the last year, the threat never left my mind.
Vampires were out there. It was just a matter of
time until I had to deal with them again.
Halfway during our descent, I felt a vibe. It was
a mild one but, over the past year, my empathy had become sensitive to the
point of being squirrely. The thin thread of power wound its way around each of
the passengers as the DV who owned it checked out who else was in the car. When
it reached me, it felt like a poke on the arm. I glanced over my shoulder,
catching the eyes of an older dark-eyed woman near the back. She sent a tiny
pulse of apology-ladened power and lowered her eyes.
I smiled politely and concentrated on tugging my
scarf loose. The DV didn't approach me in public where any old human could see.
We kept our dealings distant and private. That was the way I preferred.
The door opened and I flowed out with the crowd,
sunglasses on and scarf over my hair. I hoped everyone would more or less
continue on together today so I could hide in the crowd a bit longer.
Without turning my head, I saw a rail-thin guy,
his scruffy head and jeans out of place amongst the exiting office employees.
He leaned against the wall, scanning the people emerging from the other
elevators. Seemed to have missed me—good. Taking shelter behind a taller woman
and her chatty companion, I hustled out the front doors.
Outside, my luck ran out. My camouflaging crowd of
co-workers suddenly scattered like roaches when the kitchen light is turned on.
I hesitated, taking too long to pick a direction.
It was all he needed to spot me. I looked back
through the glass into the foyer of The Mag's building. He was on the move,
eyes locked onto me.
I bolted.
Startled faces blurred past as I hurried through
the five o'clock exodus, bumping into one man, dodging another, and rounding
the corner at a speed unfitting for heeled pumps. Steve Madden would be
horrified if he knew what I did in his shoes.
Well, Steve could kill me later. Right now, I was
facing a much more immediate threat.
At the corner, a bus was loading and at this point
I didn't care if it was mine or not. An elderly lady with a big shopping bag
struggled on the steps and I danced behind her like a first grader with a full
bladder. Once she cleared the last step I leapt up, slamming my token into the
fare box.
The door closed behind me just as my pursuer
caught up. For once I was glad for the driver's rude efficiency. The bus
leveled and lurched forward. I grabbed the bar, almost swinging into the laps
of the front seat passengers. As we pulled away from the curb, I met the man's
stare through the grimy glass of the door.
Rusted-orange eyes with wide pupils.
Non-people eyes.
Werewolf eyes.
I sank onto an empty seat, heart thumping,
gradually slowing. Glancing up at the sign over the driver's seat, I realized
I'd ended up on the round-about route. Close enough for me. I tugged my necklace
out of my shirt and kissed the pendant, my good luck charm, and offered a
silent thankful thought to whatever divine powers had saved my behind, yet
again.
Reaching into my bag, I pulled out a book of
poetry and readied for a long ride home. Ironically, when I'd flipped to a
random page, I opened to one of Dylan Thomas's poems.
Do not go
gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
I had no energy left for rage. All I could muster
was a thankful thought because at least today's escape had gone better than
most.
About the Author:
Ash Krafton writes
from the heart…of the Pennsylvania coal region, that is.
She is the author
of the Books of the Demimonde (Pink Narcissus
Press).
BLEEDING HEARTS
(Demimonde #1) is a six-time RWA finalist and was voted "Reviewer Top
Pick" by Gravetells.com. Ash continues the story of Sophie and her
Demivampires in her latest release BLOOD RUSH (Demimonde #2). She's hard at
work (when she isn't watching Doctor Who) writing the third book, WOLF'S BANE.
Ash Krafton's
poetry and short fiction has appeared in several journals, including Niteblade,
Bete Noire, Abandoned Towers, and Silver Blade. She's a member of Pennwriters,
RWA, and Maryland Writers Association. She lurks near her blog and contributes to the QueryTracker blog.
Ash lives with her
family and their German Shepherd dog deep in the Pennsylvania wilds, awaiting
the day the TARDIS appears in the driveway (the dog most likely keeps the
Doctor away. What a beast.)
Until then, she
writes.
Find
Ash at:
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