~HR Jackson
“Marry somebody you love and who thinks you being a writer’s a good
idea.” ~ Richard Ford
From the time I was a little girl, I knew I was destined to
be a writer. Oh, I dallied in the idea that I might be a veterinarian, or a
princess, or an astronaut, but my first love had always been reading and
storytelling. My grandparents and parents instilled in me a love of books so
deep that it continues to shape my life to this day, one that I hope to someday
pass along to my children as well.
When I met my husband, one of the things I first fell in
love with was his ability to tell a story. But where my background was mostly
books and comics, his was based primarily in cinema and role playing games
(RPGs). He looked at the world through a different lens and that fascinated me.
It still does, even now, over a decade later. I knew, then, that we would make
beautiful stories together.
And we have, both published and unpublished.
However.
Upon living with another storyteller, I started to realize
that he had certain… quirks. Habits, if you will, that were strangely tied to
the very thing I’d fallen in love with: his writing. And after I’d spent a good
chunk of time pointing and laughing about it, it finally dawned on me that I
shared some of those habits. Then I realized that they’re something of a
commonality amongst those of us who consider ourselves writers and
storytellers, weavers of words.
So without further ado, here are our top ten signs you might
be a writer:
- 99.5% of the books (the ones that aren’t thesauri, dictionaries, or writing mags) on your Kindle are scattered with highlights of phrases, descriptions, and ideas that you wish you’d thought of first…and that you plan to rework to suit your own purposes.
- Going out in public virtually guarantees that you’re going to see a random stranger and your first thought will be, “They would make an interesting character in my story.” Your next thought is how to follow them without looking like a stalker.
- You never leave home without one of these three things: notebook (or post-it pad)/pen, smartphone of choice with note taking program on it, tablet/laptop with word processing program of choice. Just in case you get an idea, see someone, hear something that you think would be awesome in your story.
- One of those random ideas jotted in your notes is a “What if…” scenario, a nifty turn of phrase, a potential character name/description, a sudden solution to a story-problem you’ve been having, or all of the above.
- A “quick shower” turns into a “use up every last drop of hot water and leave family members wondering if they should call the police, it’s been so long” situation, because you got lost in your head with an idea and forgot where you were.
- You can’t watch a television show or movie without either silently cursing someone else for having an idea you’ve already had but hadn’t released into the public, or thanking the universe that you put your work out there first so you can feel smug at being so clever.
- You have a hard time using twitter because 140 characters just isn’t enough, so you have to agonize over every letter and choose, re-choose, and re-choose again your words without losing impact. And by the time you do, you forget what you were originally trying to say.
- You sit down to eat and find yourself trying to describe, in your head, as detailed as possible the meal you are about to consume. This also applies to rooms, clothes, people, and restaurants.
- You sit down to write and look at your notes, and half of them don’t even make sense anymore, appearing to be scribbles of an escapee from the nearest mental facility. And you try to work with them anyway.
- Your late night surfing habits reveal tabs full of phrase translations next to tabs of Wikipedia pages ranging from “famous Scottish battles” to “sex lives of the Greek gods”, with a smattering of Pinterest boards and Facebook games you just can’t stay away from.
These are just our top ten. What about you? What signs do
you think broadcast to the world that someone’s a writer?
Hand of Time
The Nemesis Chronicles, Volume 2
H.R. Jackson
Genre: Urban Fantasy, Paranormal Romance
Genre: Urban Fantasy, Paranormal Romance
Publisher: Geek
Treats Collective
Date of
Publication: April 20th, 2013
ISBN: 1484125509
ASIN: B00CFWYO3K
Number of pages:
352
Book Description:
Morgan... Three months after the events of
Vegas turned her life upside down, she's finding that getting back to normal is
anything but easy.
Dirk... Trapped between juggling his new responsibilities and making Morgan understand his feelings, the former courtesan is discovering that letting go of the past is much harder when the past refuses to let go of him.
Nemesis... Still reeling from the Society's attack, they find themselves facing a familiar foe and a new menace hellbent on testing their fortitude.
Midsummer madness heats up Nemesis Island. It's a time of celebration and renewal, but the Society has other plans... with Dirk, Morgan, and the rest of Nemesis at the top of their list.
Excerpt from Dirk’s POV:
Dirk... Trapped between juggling his new responsibilities and making Morgan understand his feelings, the former courtesan is discovering that letting go of the past is much harder when the past refuses to let go of him.
Nemesis... Still reeling from the Society's attack, they find themselves facing a familiar foe and a new menace hellbent on testing their fortitude.
Midsummer madness heats up Nemesis Island. It's a time of celebration and renewal, but the Society has other plans... with Dirk, Morgan, and the rest of Nemesis at the top of their list.
Excerpt from Dirk’s POV:
“I’m fine, Dirk.” She wasn’t and we both knew it, but I wasn’t about to
press the issue.
I let out a frustrated sigh. “I’ll go see if my father has a shirt or
something he can lend me to wear.”
“Good idea,” Morgan said, starting a slow pace in front of the terrace
doors that reminded me of a tiger restlessly circling its enclosure. She
sounded distracted and the concern I’d already been fighting to keep from
spilling all over her nudged its way back to the surface of my demeanor. I
wanted to scoop her up and port back to my home, tuck her into bed and remind
her of my stellar bedside manner. But as she made another pass across the
doorway, I could see the limp in her step easing, slowly, until her strides
were sure and smooth. Her body was healing.
Ah well, I thought, there’s
always next time. Although, I really hoped there was a very long interval
of non-injury between them full of bedside activities that were infinitely more
fun.
“And shoes,” I added, curling my toes against the cold, damp hardwood
floor as I glanced down and finally got a good look at the damage. My pajama
bottoms were soaked through with rain and had clearly seen better days. My skin
was grimy with sweat and blood, the mottled green and yellow of my healing
bruises slowly fading. “Gods. I look
like a war refugee.”
“What’s wrong with being shoeless?” asked Bree, looking up from where
she’d been hunched over, studying the Pithos. She stretched out one of her
naked feet, her expression all ruffled feathers and huff. “I prefer it. Helps
with my Credomancy.”
Opening my mouth to apologize, I was stopped when Betty strolled back
into the room. She’d disappeared down the stairs after leaving us and it looked
like she’d been busy raiding my father’s closet. One arm was laden in textiles,
an expensive looking auburn and charcoal three piece suit on a hanger dangling
from the fingertips of her free hand.
“Morgan,” Betty let the name roll off her tongue, her brogue giving it
a delicious quality that almost made me jealous. “Why does that sound
familiar?” she mused, stopping in front of me and thrusting the garments into
my startled grasp.
A flash of black around her throat gave me pause to stare and suddenly,
I understood what my father and Sam had been talking about when they’d
mentioned Betty answering their call. My father had long employed a specialized
group of bodyguards as his security detail, scattered all across the globe,
acting as his eyes and ears. His Ravens, he called them, and they all sported
the same tattoo as an indicator of their allegiance to him. My eyes drifted to
Sam. She had received hers shortly after our hookup.
I wondered if my father’s interests ever conflicted with those of
Nemesis.
“Why does what sound familiar?” Morgan murmured, still pacing.
“I can’t quite place it…” Betty’s eyes widened and she did a slow turn,
snapping her fingers in Morgan’s direction. “Wait. Wasn’t that the name of your
horse?”
“Betty.” I knew that tone. Morgan didn’t want to talk about it. Based
on Betty’s delighted expression, she was going to poke the bear until it
snacked on her. I didn’t know if I wanted to be present for the carnage.
Betty’s grin widened and Morgan’s glower scrunched her face until I wanted to
kiss it.
“What are you talking about?” I couldn’t help it. I had to know. I felt
like I’d been left out of a private joke, and I wanted in, damnit.
Betty trilled out a laugh. “Och, you mean she hasn’t shared that with
you? Well now, doesn’t that make me feel all special.”
“It hasn’t come up,” Morgan stilled and focused her glare on Betty.
“It’s a moot point anyway.”
I knew that names held power within both our cultures, but it was the
first time I’d ever heard Morgan called by an alias and I was intensely curious
to know why she’d changed her name. I knew she had a history, one that I’d
apparently not even scratched the surface of discovering, and I’d take Betty’s
rendition of things over nothing at all.
My gaze swung to Betty. She didn’t say a word. I narrowed my eyes at
her. She dissolved into a fresh round of laughter that practically lit up the
room. “Fine. Since Dirk insists. Let
me procure a little story for you. Once upon a time, in a land far, far away,
there lived an Amazonian Princess named Airlea. She was fiercely beautiful,
fearsome on the battlefield, and more than skilled between the furs. She had
this thing she liked to do with her tongue –” Morgan crossed the room in three
strides and clapped a hand over Betty’s mouth as my eyebrows rocketed to the
ceiling.
“So help me, Betty,” Morgan said in frosty, clipped tones, “I’ve half a
mind to shove something in your mouth to shut you up. If you wouldn’t like it
so much.” Betty wiggled her eyebrows at me from above Morgan’s hand and I
couldn’t help but chuckle. Reaching out, I pried Morgan’s fingers away from
Betty’s face and dusted a kiss against their tips. Morgan responded by pulling
away and punching my arm in protest.
“Oh come now, you know how I love a good story,” I grinned, rubbing my
arm. If it took a little pain to get what was promising to be an
amusing-as-hell insight, I’d take my lumps gladly. “Please continue, Betty.”
“Long story short,” Betty resumed the second her mouth was free,
ignoring Morgan’s warning scowl, “it appears someone decided it was time for a name change. Honestly, Morgan, if
I didn’t know any better, I’d swear you were trying to avoid me altogether.”
“Maybe I was.”
About the Author:
Once upon a
time, a man and a woman looked at each other and asked, “Why aren’t we writing
this down?"
Inspired by Sci-Fi and Fantasy, with a healthy appreciation of all manner of geekery, they longed to create a world where sword, sorcery, and a little sprinkling of real life could come together. With this in mind, the pair sat down and started the stories that would eventually become The Nemesis Chronicles.
When they aren’t weaving fantastical tales, they spend their time being owned by the Feline Mafia and watching the rain fall in their home city of Seattle.
Find them on the web:
Inspired by Sci-Fi and Fantasy, with a healthy appreciation of all manner of geekery, they longed to create a world where sword, sorcery, and a little sprinkling of real life could come together. With this in mind, the pair sat down and started the stories that would eventually become The Nemesis Chronicles.
When they aren’t weaving fantastical tales, they spend their time being owned by the Feline Mafia and watching the rain fall in their home city of Seattle.
Find them on the web:
Follow them on
Goodreads:
Follow them on
twitter: @hrjacksontnc
10 signed hard copies of Hand of Time-open to US Shipping
3 comments:
Thanks so much for the opportunity to do the guest post! :)
Glad to have you spend a day with my readers!
Thanks for the awesome giveaway.
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