Well, okay, not a cottage, but a blog. It could be a cottage, given Suzanne writes about magic and druids and wizards and such. 
Ahem, yes, I’m over visiting with Fantasy author S. G. Rogers today, http://childofyden.wordpress.com/2012/09/19/myths-to-write-by-guest-post-by-author-juli-d-revezzo/
Do stop by. Oh, and don’t forget to check out her books while you’re there. I’m reading The Druid right now, and loving it. 
She’s fantastic, imho.
Author Blog-in Day 1: The Disenchanted Pet by Kate Policani.
This is one of Kate Policani’s interesting little tales. Go read about it, and enjoy.
S.G. Rogers is a multi-published author whose debut YA fantasy novel “The Last Great Wizard of Yden” was an IBookBuzz nominee as well as the premiere selection of Astraea Press’s Book Club. A recent LASR 5-star review of her novella “Minna & The Valentine” dubbed it “a wonderful concoction of fantasy and romance!”–says Aurora Reviews. She’s stopped by today, so I hope you enjoy this latest in our series of conversations….
Author S.G. Rogers
Hi S.G., tell us a little about yourself, so my readers can get to know you.
S.G. Rogers: I was born with the obstinate notion that life should be about the pursuit of happiness. I conformed by attending law school and passing the California Bar Exam, but then fled to Los Angeles to pursue an acting career. My poor husband disliked L.A. but he loved me, so he tagged along. Although I never waited tables, I did work as an audience page for various television shows in the ‘80s, and I worked as a tour guide at Universal Studios. I performed on soap operas, films, and commercials, and stage. I also joined an occasionally brutal writing workshop where I tried writing various genres. I finally settled down to have a child (Robby, now 13), and a little over four years ago I began to write full time.
What or who influenced you to start writing?
S.G. Rogers: Movies and books had a HUGE impact on me growing up. I loved Disney movies of all kinds, and I read any book I could get my hands on. I was such a voracious reader I would even read the non-fiction library books my grandmother had around her house when we went to visit (she favored biographies). When I was a little older, I saw the movie Billy Jack. Tom Laughlin used hapkido in that film, and I thought that was the coolest thing EVER. It made such a big impression on me that when Sharon Stone and Rene Russo used kickboxing techniques in Total Recall and Lethal Weapon 3 respectively, I promptly enrolled in martial arts. Today I hold three black belts, two in taekwondo (U.S. and Korean) and one in hapkido.
Oh, wow! That’s pretty neat! What inspired the story of Minna & The Valentine?
Cover Art Designed by Elaina Lee
S.G. Rogers: The publisher Astraea Press had an open call for Valentine’s Day stories. I write fantasy, and I didn’t want to write some insipid story about Cupid or some other mythological love god. So I tried to come up with a concept that was out of the box. Finally I realized the story could involve someone quite handsome, with the last name Valentine. The rest flowed from there.
You’ve had several new books come out lately. Aside from Minna & The Valentine and The Druid, Clash of Wills, and The Last Great Wizard of Yden, what can curious fans expect from you next?
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S.G. Rogers: I have several titles in the pipeline for publication this year, including two novellas and a full length time travel novel coming out late September (Tournament of Chance). Thereafter, I want to concentrate on longer works of fiction, so I will be writing full-length sequels to many of my novellas—perhaps even a novel about Minna Westerfield and Evan Valentine.
So you’ll be busy for a while. We’ll be looking forward to them all!
Now then, a fun question for you: With all the dragons in your stories, have you ever thought how you might really react if you saw a dragon swooping into your yard? Sounds like you could “take ‘em” quite easily what with those black belts.
S.G. Rogers: I’m quite a sensible person, so I’d run as if my life depended on it. I love the idea of tame dragons, but one can never be certain of dragons one has not met.
That’s very true. Is there anything else you’d like to share with our readers?
My blog is at www.childofyden.wordpress.com, and my Twitter handle is @suzannegrogers. Come visit and follow!
Thanks again for your time, S.G.! We enjoyed chatting with you–and good luck with Minna & The Valentine, The Druid, The Last Great Wizard of Yden, Clash of Wills, Tournament of Chance–and all you do! Folks if you’d like to find out more about S.G. Rogers, check out the links above.
Today, I have another special treat for you. Talented Fantasy YA author S.G. Rogers has come to talk a little bit about her new book, The Druid–ooh, and do I see something interesting in her hands, why, yes! Come on up to the mic, dear. Don’t worry, parents, we’ve got goodies for your little ones too. I think they’ll like this book.
Go ahead, Suzanne. tells us a little bit about what you’ve brought.
The Need for Mead
by
Mead; photo credit: Grapetonix, CC Attribution, Tobias Radeskog
Throughout Norse mythology, many references are made to mead. This nectar of the gods was so highly prized it was on the menu at Valhalla, served by no less than the lovely Valkyrie. Death isn’t so bad when you can belly up to the bar afterwards for a horn of lip-smacking deliciousness, right?
Mead, also called honey wine, is viewed as the Father of Fermentation. It’s not quite as old as dirt, but it dates back to around 7000 BC. Basic mead is produced by fermenting a solution of water and honey. No meadery around the corner? No problem. Brew your own, at home, with this time-tested recipe:
First, use rainwater kept for several years;
Next, measure out a sextarius (which is one sixth of a congius) of water;
Mix the water with a pound of honey;
Expose the mixture to sunlight for 40 days, and then leave on a shelf near the fire.
(If you’re out of rainwater, boiled spring water may be used as a substitute in a pinch)
(Recipe courtesy of Columella, De Re Rustica, AD 60.)
I don’t know about you, but if it’s good enough for Odin, it’s good enough for me.
Here here! For those of us who don’t imbibe alcohol, I wonder what a non-alcoholic version might taste like–just a bit of honey and rain water? Mmm…..honey. How about an excerpt of your book, Suzanne?
An adventurous woman meets a romantic hero from the pages of a book, bigger than life and twice as Elvish.
Dani Avery is an ordinary girl wishing for adventure. She never expected to be kidnapped by mythological creatures and taken to a place she thought only existed within the pages of a book. Abandoned in Asgard, Dani must find her way home. Along the way, she meets the handsome Prince Rein. Sadly, the elf is not-so-charming and has issues of his own, leaving Dani disappointed and vulnerable. With nowhere left to turn Dani looks for help among the powerful Immortals, but gets caught in a trap that may leave her stranded and alone in Asgard forever.
Excerpt:
“Right. How about you trade me the magical shield in your pocket for directions to the Rainbow Bridge?”
Dani peered at him. So Rein had been watching her and the Ravens. Although she wasn’t about to give up the brooch, maybe she could strike another bargain with him. According to The Asgard Adventure, elves were supposed to love challenges.
“No deal,” she said. “But I challenge you to hand-to-hand combat. If I win, you show me how to find the Rainbow Bridge. If I lose, the shield is yours and I’ll be on my way.”
The band of elves hooted and hollered in derision, but Rein grinned.
“You’re on,” he said. “Do I get my choice of weapons?”
“No weapons,” Dani said.
“No weapons?” he scoffed. “Fine. I’ll try not to hurt you too much.”
“That’s excellent,” she replied, tossing her backpack to the ground. “I don’t enjoy pain.”
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The Druid is available in all formats from Musa Publishing and Smashwords, and from Amazon for the Kindle. ($2.99)
Author links:
Blog: www.childofyden.wordpress.com
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/SuzanneGRogers
Twitter: https://twitter.com/#!/suzannegrogers
Thanks for being with us, Suzanne. Good luck with The Druid! It sounds fun. Now, about that bottle next to you…..
*Stands at the threshold and surveys the room* Good, it looks like my minions cleaned up a little, after the party last night. And the drapes are even closed. *walks into the room and drops down on the couch with a sigh* Look at this! They even supplied more brew. Methinks they might be worthy of a Halloween bonus. Well, now, that steaming pot is a bit appropriate I think, as today we have a little something different for you. We have a soon to debut Steampunk author with us today, Suzanne Lazear, whose debut novel, Innocent Darkness comes out from Flux in 2012 and seems quite interesting. She’s here talking about how one writes accurate love scenes for the Young Adult genre. A little lesson, if you will. So, Suzanne, my dear, do have a cup of tea, and you may begin any time you’re ready.
author Suzanne Lazear
Give me some lovin’
By Suzanne Lazear
Teen life is full of sexual tension– the way it feels when the guy you like looks at you across the room, stuttering over being asked out by your locker, the first holding of hands. All that awkward interacting with the opposite sex can make for great reading. Every heart flutter, hand brush, and caught gaze causes so much excitement when you’re a teen.
And that kiss! When you’re a teen *the* kiss is a big deal. (Okay, when you’re a teen everything is a big deal).
Because of this immediacy, the urgency, and the fact that everything really is a big deal, writing sexual tension in YA stories can be a ton of fun.
Think back to that shy awkward time when you first held hands or kissed someone–the nervousness, the joy, the disappointment. That is what you want to capture in every interaction from conversation to kiss.
In today’s YA there really are no limits. Love scenes can and do happen both on and off-screen. Now days you find all levels of intensity. You can be vague or graphic. They can think about sex. They can like (or not like) having sex.
In YA the emotion—not the body parts—are usually the focus of a love scene. Even when these scenes happen partially or all the way on screen, they’re usually not as graphic as in their adult counterparts. It’s all in the word choice. When your MC kisses their love interest, odds are the words won’t be “we kissed” but a kaleidoscope of thoughts, emotions, and sensations. This is what you want to come across in your story. It’s not all about what his lips do, but how they make her feel.
But just because you can go there, doesn’t me you have to. If it makes sense for your characters to go all the way, don’t be afraid to do it, but at the same time, don’t throw it in for shock value, it should feel organic and in character. Do what makes sense for your story, your characters, and your world. Books with love scenes beyond kissing also tend to be geared at older teens and have older teen characters.
Also, love scene doesn’t have to mean they do it–that mumbled exchange in the hallway where “hi” means so much more can be just as sexy (or more) than a going all the way.
Any love scene–whether it’s kissing or out and out you-know-what–should advance the story and not be thrown in “just because.”
Have fun with it and don’t be afraid to show your characters some love…if that’s what they want.
~Suzanne Lazear
www.suzannelazear.com
www.suzannewrites.blogspot.com
Book summary:
Innocent Darkness, Book 1, The Aether Chronicles– Flux, August 8, 2012
Wish. Love. Desire. Live.
In a Steampunk version of Victorian Los Angeles, sixteen-year-old Noli Braddock’s hoyden ways land her in an abusive reform school far from home. On mid-summer’s eve she wishes to be anyplace but that dreadful school. Her wish sends her tumbling into the Otherworld. A mysterious man from the Realm of Faerie rescues her, only to reveal that she must be sacrificed, otherwise, the entire Otherworld civilization will perish.
Bio:
Suzanne Lazear’s young adult Steampunk dark fairytale, INNOCENT DARKNESS, Book 1 of The Aether Chronicles, will be released from Flux in August of 2012. Visit her website at www.suzannelazear.com She’s also part of the Steampunk group blog Steamed at: http://wwww.ageofsteam.wordpress.com
*Night Mistress walks in and checks the drapes* Ah, good! They remembered to keep them shut this time. Welcome to another morning at ye ole Haunted Office, folks. I see you are still here. Sorry about yesterday, best laid plans, and all. (Actually, we had a little private celebration for one of our minions. My apologies for closing down the gates. He’s shy. ) Anyway, to continue our Halloween festivities, we bring you one of our good friends, and a fantastic author who, if you’ve followed us at any length, you know we can’t gush enough about: Debra Glass. She’s written a spookily-sweet little Young Adult paranormal tale, aptly titled Haunted, about a ghost who falls in love. So without further ado, I’ll let her tell you a little more about her fabulous book and the lovely settings therein. Debra, you have the podium, dear. Just swipe all those cobwebs away, if necessary.
A Haunting Setting
As a writer, I’m often asked what inspires my stories or who inspires my characters. There are always easy answers for those questions but no one ever asks where inspires me. The setting for a story is every bit as important as the characters and plot.
Think of Gone With the Wind set in war-torn Civil War Georgia. Raintree County set up North somewhere (see how little it stuck with me) was just as sweeping a tale but it’s hardly the classic GWTW is and the setting is as forgettable as last season’s American Idol hopefuls.
New York Times Best Seller, Widow of the South, is set in Franklin, Tennessee where arguably the bloodiest battle of the Civil War took place. Why does this book stand out? It’s got a perfect storm of elements. Lovely writing, a haunting title, a tortured heroine, and a memorable setting where fans can go to see the very house and grounds where the events took place.
I immediately knew the setting I wanted for my paranormal, young adult romance, Haunted. Growing up, I often traveled with my grandparents to Middle Tennessee to visit my great-grandparents and multitude of aunts, uncles, and cousins. Although I live in Alabama, perhaps the feeling that Tennessee is home is in my genes. My ancestors settled and fought for that land over a hundred years before I was born. Maury County Tennessee is the undisputed antebellum home capital of Tennessee. As a child, I gazed wide-eyed at soaring mansions, set back far enough off the slave-built stone wall lined roads to lure my attention until the next one came into view. I wondered who had lived in such grand places and what life must have been like back in those early frontier days. My granny regaled me with stories about remembering that the grandest of these, Rattle and Snap, had once been a hay barn.
My grandmother’s story is recounted in Haunted.
“Are you all right?” Waylon asked.
“Fine,” I muttered and pressed my cool palm to my forehead to still my roiling stomach. “I must have stood up too fast.”
Concern shone in his eyes. “You’re face is awfully pale.”
I took a deep breath and forced a smile. “Maybe it was the sight of blood.” Please don’t ask too many questions.
He watched me for a second as if to make certain I wasn’t going to pass out on him and then he kneeled to examine the bloodstain for himself. A reverence came over his face that didn’t surprise me. Without the benefit of my psychic sense, I would have known Waylon knew exactly what those boys and men had suffered at the hands of nineteenth century doctors.
“As much as I enjoy reenacting,” he said. “This is the kind of thing that brings it all home to me, that makes it real. It’s one thing to dress up in a replica uniform and brave the weather while you camp. It’s another thing to have actually lived through what those guys did.” He shook his head in dismay.
I gestured toward the window where bright, warming sunlight streamed in. “They must have performed the surgeries in front of that window because of the light.”
Waylon glanced up at the window and then at me. His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “That’s pretty perceptive of you,” he said. “At Carnton they operated near a window so they’d have a place to toss out the severed arms and legs.”
I shuddered and pushed down more threatening images.
“Legend there says they were piled as high as the second story window but I doubt that,” Waylon continued.
“Where is Carnton?” I had to change the subject before a full blown panic attack set in.
“The McGavock plantation in Franklin where many of the wounded were taken after the battle.” Waylon stood. “You wouldn’t know it now but it was a hay barn for a long time in the early twentieth century. So was Rattle and Snap, the plantation house across the street.”
My mouth fell open in shock. “A hay barn?” I had seen the grand plantation house across the street. Situated on the rise of a rolling hill, it stood magnificent with its majestic columns and sprawling grounds. I couldn’t imagine anyone would have ever let such a proud, old house fall into such disrepair, much less use it as a barn.
Waylon nodded. “My grandfather remembers seeing cows and horses stabled inside it and tobacco hanging to dry from the second story floor joists.”
I shook my head. “I can’t believe it.”
“Me either.” He surveyed the architecture of my room. “That’s what’s so fascinating about this house. It’s as close to the same as it was during the war you’ll find around here.”
And for my fictional antebellum house, Ransom’s Run, I relied on my knowledge of the Pope House atop Echol’s Hill in Huntsville, Alabama. My former sister-in-law served as the caretaker of the 1809 home in the 1990s, and I had the opportunity to visit her there and tour the cavernous rooms. But what struck my fancy most was the fabulous fanlight over the porch that could be viewed from the attic, and the widow’s walk atop the house where one could look out over the entire the city of Huntsville.
Echols Hill House
In Haunted, I moved the Georgian structure to Maury County, and featured the fanlight and widow’s walk prominently as the setting where my heroine falls in love with a ghost.
My breath stopped in my chest when Jeremiah’s silhouette formed out of seemingly nothing at the top of the stairs. A little shard of terror rattled my confidence but I tamped it down and wet my dry lips with my tongue. Tossing caution aside, I hurried up the stairs as quickly as my feet would carry me.
Toward a ghost.
I was hardly prepared for what I found at the top.
Dust motes glittered in the amethyst shards of light radiating through the giant fan-shaped window. Old trunks and random pieces of furniture sat haphazardly on the attic floor. Tarps and sheets covered other odds and ends, looming like phantoms in the shadows and, in the center of it all, a real ghost waited for me.
Still wearing the woolen trousers and oversized muslin shirt he’d worn when I first saw him, Jeremiah stood, hands plunged into his pockets, his eyes carefully watching my expressions. Anticipation rippled through my veins as the bold intensity of his stare compelled me to avert my gaze.
“From the ground, it doesn’t look this big,” I admitted, taking in the magical beauty of the window, the light and Jeremiah all at once.
When he smiled, my heart literally skipped a beat. And when he moved, the energy of his being swirled around him like a ghostly halo. The ethereal glow emanating from him made his features hazy, at times, indistinct. Other times, he seemed faded.
All the time, I found it extremely difficult to tear my gaze from his exquisite face. And yet, when I looked directly at him—-into his eyes—-I sensed he saw too much. I was the one who felt transparent.
Reluctantly, I looked away from him to scan the attic. It was large, much roomier than I would have guessed. And the fanlight…dominating the front wall of the attic, it stretched from the pitched ceiling to the floor. The thick glass rippled like a rushing creek, cast intermittently in hues of gleaming green and silver. A wooden trellis radiated from a center point at the bottom like a burst of sun rays. It was even more awe inspiring from this vantage point than it was from the outside of the house. Here in the attic, no fragrance of lemon oil lingered but instead, the scent of old wood and…darkness permeated the stale air.
My gaze locked once more with Jeremiah’s and, without words, he extended his hand.
I froze, too terrified to touch him and, instead of insisting, he lowered his hand. His smile faded nearly imperceptibly. “Come. I want to show you something.” He drifted toward the fanlight.
As I neared it, I noticed the glass was so thick and so old, the objects beyond it were distorted. What I was able to make out, I could only describe as…dreamlike. As my focus adjusted and I looked out over the front lawn, I thought it was no wonder he spent so much time up here. Brightly colored fall leaves caught up in the breeze outside fluttered past the leaded glass like a parade of confetti.
“This was always my favorite place,” he said in his velvety drawl.
And the widow’s walk –
With more grace than would have been possible for a mortal man, he moved toward another set of stairs. This one seemed even narrower than the attic stairs and led up into the shadowy ceiling.
“What’s up there?” I asked.
He had the audacity to wink. “Come with me.”
His image faded as he began to ascend the stairs and I hurried after him, afraid he would vanish from my view.
Suddenly, light blinded me and I blinked furiously, realizing a door at the top of the stairs had been thrown open. When I reached the top, I sucked in an astonished breath and I stepped out onto the roof of the house.
“Oh, Jeremiah!” I exclaimed, unable to find words to describe it. I stood on a small, flat area of the roof while the rest sloped steeply downward. A railing surrounded a small square area of the rust colored tin roof.
From here, my view stretched for miles and miles, past the orchard and the family plot behind the house and beyond that, past the railroad track. To the right, I could see the roof of the neighboring plantation house salient against the blue-gray threat of a stormy sky as it rose above the golden tree line. On my left, lay the outline of Columbia’s low skyline in the distance.
Cows and horses grazed in the gently undulating hills on the other side of the highway while a stout breeze billowing from the west whipped through my hair. The fresh scent of impending rain filled my nostrils.
“What do you think?” Jeremiah asked.
My gaze found his again. In the waning light, he appeared nearly transparent but his entire being shimmered as if he was made of pastel glitter.
“It’s beautiful,” I said, but none of it compared with the beauty of Jeremiah’s spirit.
Haunted cover art by Trisha FitzGerald
Haunted is available both digitally and as a trade paperback.
Amazon – http://www.amazon.com/Haunted-Debra-Glass/dp/1926996461/ref=ntt_at_ep_dpt_5
And if you’re curious, here’s the trailer:
About Debra Glass
Debra Glass is the author of over twenty books of historical and paranormal romance, non-fiction, and folklore. The recipient of the National Society of Arts and Letters Alabama Screenwriter Award, she went on to win the NSAL Empire State Award for excellence in screenwriting.
Debra is a member of Romance Writers of America, RWA’s Heart of Dixie chapter, and the Professional Authors’ Network. She lives in Alabama with her family, a couple of smart-aleck ghosts, and a diabolical black cat.
Debra’s official site: http://DebraGlass.com
And the Haunted website (with more information about the book, and Jeremiah): http://ghostlyeverafter.wordpress.com
Thanks, Debra, for visiting with us today, and sharing the history of these lovely structures. Good luck with Haunted! Folks, Debra and I will be giving away a download of her book Haunted to one lucky commenter*, so please leave Debra a comment or question. Once again, thanks for joining us on this new day of spooky festivities. Have a haunted one!
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(Legalese silliness: My apologies to my Canadian friends but contests only open to US residents, and void where prohibited by law.
No extra entries necessary other than, of course, to leave a comment on the appropriate contest entry for that time period.
Full site giveaway disclaimers here) *Giveaway has expired
cover art by Eric Rohmann
Philip Pullman’s controversial Fantasy/Steampunk/YA novel The Golden Compass* is the story of Lyra Belacqua, an orphan growing up under the care of the staff of Jordan College, Oxford in a strange, 19th-century-esque world (that is and is not like the London of our world) where humans have companions called daemons (a thing sort of like a witch’s familiar). Despite the best efforts of the scholars, the stubborn Lyra spends as much time as possible with the street kids, and the children of the gyptians, just being a mischievous child. Jordan is open to her, but for one place: the Retiring room. Continue reading
