That’s Capital!

Posted on May 25, 2011 by Linda Andrews

Okay, I couldn’t resist the title. All joking aside, I thought I knew the rules of capitalization. Then, while I was editing Fiona’s story, I learned a few new things. So I spent my time researching to see what I knew and learn what I didn’t.

First the no-brainers.

1) The first word in a sentence, salutation or close needs to be capitalized. (Good thing spell check can do that automatically, since sometimes I write faster than I can hit the shift key)

2) Proper names and titles/high ranking government officials (before a name, but–wait for it–NOT after the name, unless it’s in the signature line). Also words derived from proper names and specific course titles.

Example: I’m taking economics and Art History 101.

3) First and last words in a title of a book, magazine, etc. Do not capitalize the words a, an, but, as, if, and, or, nor and preposition in the middle of the title.

4) Titles when used as a direct address.

Correct: Stop criticizing me, Mom.

Incorrect: My mom can’t stop criticizing me.

5) Points on the compass that refer to specific regions but are not adjectives.

Example: Although I was born in Maryland, I grew up in the Southwest.

Okay, so that’s not a comprehensive list, but I think I’ve covered ninety percent of the situations I’ll encounter in my writing.

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55 Years and Counting

Posted on May 23, 2011 by Linda Andrews

Since a couple of you asked what our secret was for staying married that long, Mom and I have been thinking.

First, yes a sense of humor helps especially in the later years. In fact, the first thing that sold me on Mom was the very first sight of her when she came around the corner of a building with her friend. They were laughing and happy as could be, I never even noticed the other girl, I was sold on Mom. She was a total package of everything I ever wanted even though I had not thought much about what I wanted in a girl. The laughter and happiness was the frosting on the cake. So always remember to look for the thing that first sold you on your partner.

When something they say or do rankles, try to remember something good about what they do or are. If that fails, remember how good they feel when you make up after an argument.

There tons more stuff but those will get you started. My defensive driving class brought another thought to mind. It can all end in a second thru accident or heart attack, so never waste any seconds. in my battle against impatience, I have found it takes a lot less energy to be happy than angry plus you get to enjoy living more. Enough already!

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The Forgotten Epilogue-Gillian

Posted on May 20, 2011 by Linda Andrews

Things change during revisions. Something I forgot to put back in Gillian’s story was the epilogue. So here is the rough, unedited version. So much has changed in the story, but oddly enough I think it still works.  But man would I love to edit it and make it better.

Enjoy!

EPILOGUE

ArizonaTerritory

1902

Aidan Baird stepped off the porch surrounding his two story abode house. Conversation swelled behind him pushing him further outside. He liked his wife’s family. He just wished they weren’t here now. He wanted Gillian to himself.

Need filled his belly.

After ten years of marriage, he still ached for her.

Aidan allowed his gaze to roam over the high desert and filled his lungs with the dry warm air. He was a fortunate man. He had Gillian. His children were healthy. And three years ago, he had finally purchased the ranch from his father-in-law. Yes, sir. Aidan Baird was a man who appreciated his lot in life.

White flashed in his peripheral vision. Dread coiled his intestines as his daughter’s head materialized on the roof of the barn. Aidan’s knees bucked as he fought the urge to run. His throat burned with words. He couldn’t startle her. If he startled her she could fall. He swallowed the mounting anxiety, stopping as she did a cartwheel on the edge of the roof.

“Jewel come down from there this minute.” Aidan groaned as his nine old daughter blew her red curls out of her face.

“I’m going to perform in the circus just like Momma.” She tossed him a saucy grin. “I’ve been practicing a new trick. Wanna see?”

“No, I do not want to see.” Too late. His daughter arched her back, curled her body so her hands hit the roof before she kicked her legs up. She rose to her feet, her arms tossed wide in triumph.

“Well, Daddy what do you think?”

“I think I should have extended our wager to eleven years.” Everett Grey nudged Aidan in the ribs while beaming at his granddaughter.

“Give me another year and I’ll either be bald or completely white haired.” Aidan ran his hands through his hair. He had wonEverett’s bet, barely. His hair had started graying when Jewel learned to walk. “Luke do not follow your sister up there. Luke.”

His eight year old son smiled, flashing the gap where his two front teeth were missing. “I need to practice too Dad. Jewel said if I helped with her act, she’d help with mine.”

“What do you want to do, Luke?”

“I wanna throw knives like Mom.”

Everettgrinned. “Your year was to generous. I say three month, six at the most.”

“Both of you. Down. Right this minute.”

“Serves you right.” Arms slipped around his waist. His wife’s fragrance teased his senses but couldn’t chase the fear from his gut.

“Gillian get your children down from there.”

“I wasn’t the one who told them about my circus career. A secret, I might add, you were supposed to take to your grave.”

“Gillian.”

“Jewel, Luke. Down, please.”

“Best listen to your mother. Grandma made me lug a whole crate full of presents here.”

“Presents?”

“Catch me Dad.” Jewel somersaulted off the roof.

Air whooshed out of his lungs as she collided with his chest. Aidan hugged his daughter close before she wiggled out of his grasp. His children grabbed their grandfather’s hands and tugged him toward the house.

“They grow up so fast.” She slid her arm around his waist.

“You haven’t aged a day. Me. I look like your father.” Aidan watched his children disappear inside the old adobe home. “Where are the twins?”

“With their Aunt Magda in the kitchen.”

“You don’t think they’ll really join the circus, do you?”

“No. Gran said something about flying.”

“Flying? Like those lunatics trying down inNorth Carolina?”

“Gran didn’t say, but Jewel smiled when she said it.”

“When Gran said it or your sister repeated it.”

“When Gran said it.”

“Christ Almighty.” Aidan plowed his hands through his hair.Everett’s wager of three months seemed too generous. Hell, Aidan wouldn’t be a bit surprised if the rest of the color simply flew of his head with Gillian’s last statement.

“Seems our daughter has just discovered her gift.”

“I’m going to have to visit the barber.” He hugged his wife close, marveled at the strength locked inside her tiny frame.

“Why?”

“A man should not be whitehaired at forty. Bald maybe but not white headed.”

“Sorry you married me?”

“Never.” He kissed her forehead then kissed her neck.

“Then come inside. It’s cool.”

“Grimsree’s visiting, isn’t he?”

“You know he wouldn’t miss a chance to try to catch Gran.”

“Jewel is gifted. I supposed that’s better than flying.”

“I could be mistaken, Fiona said something about barnstorming.”

“Barns. Barns are safely on the ground. But storming? That sounds ominous.”

“Yes, which is exactly why Jewel would do it.”

Aidan nibbled on his wife’s ear. He would deal with his wife’s revelations later. Now he needed her. He took her hand and tugged her toward the barn and the waiting hayloft. She cast one glance over her shoulder then raced past him.

“Gillian.” He caught her around the waist, pressing her against him before he focused on her buttons.

“Yes, dear.” She freed his shirt from hisLevis.

“Don’t share any more of Gran’s insights with me.”

“Yes, dear.” She kissed his exposed chest. Her hands unhooked his belt.

“Ahh, at last, someone who listens to me.”

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Hyphen Usage

Posted on May 19, 2011 by Linda Andrews

When I began my research into the correct use of hyphens, I stumbled across a sentence that said hyphen use is among the least uniform and least stable feature of English spelling and to consult a dictionary. Being that I have latent masochistic tendencies, I did not give up.
But you’ve been warned, this could very well be a waste of your time. I will, of course, have learned something–even if it is wrong–so I will have accomplished something.:D

Hyphens are used for:
1) Compund words–not all, and I guess this is where a current dictionary will come in handy.

Correct: Able-bodied, bull’s-eye, six-pack abs, in-laws, one-sided, Governor-elect
Incorrrect: Bridesmaid, stepfather, highlight, headquarters, bittersweet

2) Compound numbers from twenty-one to ninety-nine. Fractions may or may not be hyphenated.

Example: One-third of the students dropped the class.
Example: One-third are illiterate.

3) Some prefixes require a hyphen.
Like all-, ex-, quasi-, self-, and sometimes co-
On prefixes before words that begin with a capital letter: anti-Ameican, pan-Pacific
To prevent the joining of two identical vowels or three identical consonanats: semi-independent, fall-like.

4) With group modifiers
Example: Growing up I always watched the after-school specials.

Note: this doesn’t apply if there is an -ly adverb modifying the noun.

Now that I’ve finished, I think I’ve done this before. Hmm, guess it doesn’t hurt to get a refresher. By George, I think my brain is getting it.

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Magic in a Box

Posted on May 16, 2011 by Linda Andrews

While driving home from my parents yesterday, I saw something that took me back. Four kids in their early teens were crossing a busy, seven-lane street with a cardboard refrigerator-size box. Each of them had big ole smiles and were giggling as they jay-walked, kicking and lugging the box like drunken crabs.
I felt myself smile as I remembered Christmas and birthdays when my children were younger. I swear that many times they were more enamoured of the boxes their bright, shiny toys came in than the toys themselves.
And the ones they could crawl inside…
Those were the best. Those big boxes became houses, cars, rocketships and transmongerfiers. Anything was possible especially if there was another box and duct-tape.
And imagination.
In a bill-board moment from the universe sign, I received the exact same message from a workshop I attended on Saturday. In Discovery Story Magic by the fabulous Laura Baker and Robin Perini, they stated that writing inside a box freed the imagination.
At first I didn’t like the notion at all, but then my thoughts shifted and I could see the sense in it. You see by writing genre fiction, we place ourselves in a box. It is the box of readers expectations of the genre–A mystery needs a murder and the murderer caught, a romance needs romance and the certainty that the relationship will continue after the story ends, Science-Fiction and fantasy both have other worlds where good and evil battle it out in epic battles involving technology and/or magic with a bit of a parable mixed up along the way.
But the workshop talked about a nested box inside the genre box–the character box. You see in order to create a story that allows the reader to believe in the unfolding events, the actions and reactions must be in line what the protagonist/antagonist of the story.
Giving a whole new dimension to the phrase Character counts.
And just like that refrigerator box the kids carried, they’ll cut doors and windows, plus add designs and extra things that make it uiquely their own (hero’s journey) and transform it into something different in the end (Character arc).

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Short Story II

Posted on May 13, 2011 by Linda Andrews

The First Night

I don’t know what woke me. It could have been the unfamiliar bed or the mangled springs in the sofa sleeper. It certainly wasn’t those ghost stories. I don’t believe in ghosts. Yet the room was cold and the air conditioner silent.
I snuggled deeper into the blankets and willed sleep to return while the darkness pressed against my eyelids. I had almost succeeded when I heard it: The creak, creak, creak of the bentwood rocker in the corner.

“The house is haunted,” my hostess had asserted over dinner. “The dog refuses to go into the kitchen unless she’s at a dead run and even then she hugs the walls to get out the back door.”
“Haunted,” I scoffed. “More likely the dog is nuts.” The black Labrador whined from under the table. “You do tend to pick the strangest animals.”
“I don’t pick them, they pick me.” She calmly spooned more broccoli onto her plate. “Animals are sensitive to the paranormal. Besides how else do you explain her standing in the doorway of the kitchen, hackles raised, fangs bared and barking for all she’s worth?”
“Someone could be in the alley.” I said, the voice of reason.
“The house is haunted. I’ve seen the ghosts.”
“So now there’s more than one?”
“I’ve seen a girl standing in the hallway and a man laying on the couch you’ll be sleeping on tonight.”
“You were dreaming.”

Dreaming, my earlier scorn mocked my racing heart. I wasn’t dreaming. I was wide awake. Sweat pricked my forehead, adrenaline galloped through my heart. There had to be a logical explanation behind the rhythmic movement. The answer came to me in a flash. My hostess, of course. She’d never forgiven my disbelief. It would be just like her to creep into the livingroom at night and sit in the chair to give me a start. I sat up, primed to catch the trickster.
“You didn’t this would actuallyB” ‘Scare me’ died unspoken in my throat. The rocking chair was empty. Empty and moving to the soft rhythm a mother uses to lull her babe to sleep.
If the girl ghost could stand in the hallway then she could also sit in the rocker and make it move. I swallowed the lump of pride in my throat. I was man enough to admit I was wrong about the ghosts, but sleeping with one in the same room was another matter. I tossed aside the covers and leapt out of bed. A heartbeat later the rocking chair rose off the ground and tipped over. Glowing eyes floated above my bed.
“Woof.” The Labrador glanced at the fallen chair then jumped onto the bed. Springs creaked. My heartbeat slowed. It had been the dog. The dog had caused the chair to move.

“You stupid mutt.” I said, slowly sitting back onto the bed.”Scaring me like that.” I wiggled into the warm spot and snuggled further under the blankets. At least my canine trickster would never tell of his success. “Go to sleep,” I yawned.
The dog sneezed then rested his head on my hip. Hackles raised, he stared at the kitchen door. I closed my eyes and chased a good night’s sleep.
I don’t believe in ghosts. The dog’s low whine rumbled across the blankets as she pressed closer to me.
Would I say the same thing at the end of my stay?

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Paranormal Encounter

Posted on May 12, 2011 by Linda Andrews

“Tired?” I asked my hostess as another yawn stretched her face. It had been her third in as many minutes. I clamped my jaws tight as one threatened to overtake my own face.
“Yes, but not too much.” She tugged her drink out of the its holder and sucked air through a straw. Disgusted, she tossed the empty cup into the back seat. It rolled across the paper bag stamped with a one dimensional image of the Grand Canyon and came to a rest next to the sleeping dog.
“Do you want me to take over the driving?” The Interstate stretched into the blackness beyond the headlights. In the distance taillights gleamed like red stars. The car vibrated in protest as it drifted across the solid line and onto the arm of the road.
“Perhaps, it’s best.” She yawned, shook her head and pulled the vehicle back onto smooth blacktop. “I don’t think I can handle Bumble Bee.”
“Stop at Camp Verde. I’ll pick up another soda, stretch and drive the rest of the way to your house.”
She smiled as she hit the blinker and eased the car onto the off ramp. Neon lights blasted ‘OPEN 24 HOURS’ at the passing cars. “You sure you don’t want me to drop you at a hotel.”
“I think I can handle it.” I refused to blush. The story of last night’s events had been good for a laugh. I accepted the car keys while she filled up the tank. After paying the cashier for the gas and my 64 ounces of caffeine, I stepped into the night. The clock edged closer to midnight. The witching hour. “There are no ghosts.” Last night had proven that. I smiled as I slide behind the wheel and pointed the car home.

The sign pronounce Phoenix in 33 miles. My stomach squirmed. I tightened my grip on the steering wheel as the speedometer counted down the miles. It was the caffeine that caused these jitters, nothing else. Her house is not haunted, I told myself. Relax. “There’s no such thing as ghosts.”
“What?” She blinked at me.
“We just past Sunset Point,” I lied as the haze of city lights glowed in the distance.
“Oh,” she nestled further into the seat and dozed off again.
The clock turned 1:30 as we pulled into the drive. I stared at the house. Inside a light burned, illuminating the living room. Nothing unusual but the events of last night replayed in my mind.
“It’s the power of suggestion. Nothing more. Nothing more.”
“Home so soon.” She stretched and righted her seat back.
“Yep.” I got out of the car and pulled my bag out of the back seat. The old Lab snuffled at the ice chest before lumbering onto the driveway.
“Just leave the rest.” She slid out of the door. “We can get them in the morning.” The purse that she’d used as a pillow plopped onto the bucket seat and hurled it contents across the floor board.

“Okay.” I slowly shuffled to the door. The Lab had stopped beside her master to stare at the house. It’s stance raised the hair on my arms. Dogs are sensitive. I stared at the glowing windows. What did the dog see that I did not? “Do you need some help?”
“Unlock the door, will you?”
“Sure.” I swallowed my reluctance and walked to the door. As I drew abreast of the big picture window, movement snagged my attention. I stopped and looked through the lace curtains. A young man was stretched across the sofa, sleeping. “There’s someone in there.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” My hostess chucked a handful of makeup in her purse and closed the car door with her hip.
I looked again. He was there. His blond hair stark against the blue cushion. His stockinged feet propped up on the arm of the couch. This was not my imagination. “He’s there.”
“Where?” She hustled to the window as I hurried to the door.
I checked the doorknob. Locked. How had he gotten inside? “Recognize him?”
“I can’t see anything.”
The keys rattled as I unlocked the door. I quickly hurried inside, scanning the room as I went. No one was there. My eyes focused on the couch. I skimmed my fingers over the cushions, followed the fading dip. Instead of warmth, they were cold to the touch.
“Well?”
“I’ll check out the rest of the house.” Methodically, slowly, I went through the bedrooms, dining room and living areas. Everything was locked. Nothing was out of place or open. I had seen him, hadn’t I? “Guess I’m more tired than I thought.”
“It has been a long night.” She didn’t say anything but trudged to her room and dropped into bed fully clothed. The dog sprinted after her.
I locked the front door and quickly changed into my sweats. “It must have been the late hour and the long drive. What else could it have been?” I quickly willed my brain into silence. There were some questions best left unanswered. Especially when I occupied the very spot my figment had vacated a scant 15 minutes ago.

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Interview with Alanya Williams/Laura Bickle

Posted on May 9, 2011 by Linda Andrews

What prompted you to write urban fantasies centered around the Oracle of Delphi?

Delphi’s Daughters, a matriarchal society comprised of the descendants of the Oracle of Delphi including Tara, is a group of very talented woman that can harness what could only be described as magic. Tarot card divination, pyromancy, geomancy, scrying – and the list goes on. Why this correlation between oracles, more specifically the Oracle of Delphi, and these elementally talented women?

The Delphic Oracle is probably the most famous oracle of the ancient world. The priestess of the Temple of Apollo, the Pythia, wielded a great deal of political influence over leaders who sought her advice and the priestesses who served the temple.

I was intrigued by the idea of an order of women exerting subtle and powerful influence over the ancient world. I wondered what would happen if that order of priestesses went underground and survived to the modern day. What would their role in world events be? In my ORACLE books, the title of Pythia is handed down through generations of women, all oracles with their own unique talent for foreseeing the future. Delphi’s Daughters are a secret organization, nudging world events and gathering information through vast networks of helpers. Their behavior is sometimes sinister, sometimes pure, but always secretive. No one but the Pythia herself knows how the puzzle of world events fits together, and her priestesses are often left in the dark, guessing at her motives.

In the ORACLE world, the current Pythia is a pyromancer. She sees the future in dancing flames. The heroine of the story, Tara Sheridan, is a cartomancer who uses Tarot cards to create criminal profiles. Other characters have abilities with scrying, astronomy, and geomancy. Delphi’s Daughters come from all walks of life: they are physicists, soccer moms, artists, farmers, and dancers. They are women just like women you know and walk past on the street. But they are women with a secret.

Given all the ways your oracles used to foresee the future, why did you choose Tarot Cards?

I’ve been reading and collecting Tarot cards since I was a teenager. I love the art…and they make excellent story prompts! I wrote both ORACLE books with a deck of cards at hand. Whenever I got stuck on a character or plot point, I picked a card at random and ran with it.

Have you had your cards read/or do you read Tarot cards?

I go to the local Renaissance Festival every year and get my Tarot cards read by the same card reader. Lots of fun.

I putter with the cards once in awhile for myself, but would never consider myself to be a professional reader by any stretch of the imagination.

You featured radiation exposure in both your stories (a little eerie given the aftermath of the Japanese Tsunami), why did you pick such an unusual element? And did the Soviet government really tell people to drink vodka and milk?

Yes, vodka and milk, of all things.

One of my childhood fears was Chernobyl. I was in middle school when the news reports began to filter in that something terrible had happened in Europe…that a Soviet reactor had melted down, breached containment in fire and invisible poison. The Ukraine seemed a thousand worlds away. And I was less than a bystander, an ordinary kid on an ordinary street in the U.S.

But something about the story captivated and frightened me. Every so often, I take my shovel to the forgotten stuff in the back of my brain and see what I can unearth. And this was one of those things that stuck with me.

Can you tell us a little bit about your latest release?

My latest release is ROGUE ORACLE.

Tara Sheridan is the best criminal profiler around – and the most unconventional. Trained as a forensic psychologist, Tara also specializes in Tarot card reading. But she doesn’t need her divination skills to realize that the new assignment from her friend and sometime lover, Agent Harry Li, is a dangerous proposition in every way.

Former Cold War operatives, all linked to a top-secret operation tracking the disposal of nuclear weapons in Russia, are disappearing. There are no bodies, and no clues to their whereabouts. Harry suspects a conspiracy to sell arms to the highest bidder. The cards – and Tara’s increasingly ominous dreams – suggest something darker. Even as Tara sorts through her feelings for Harry and her fractured relationships with the mysterious order known as Delphi’s Daughters, a killer is growing more ruthless by the day. And a nightmare that began decades ago in Chernobyl will reach a terrifying endgame that not even Tara could have foreseen…
ROGUE ORACLE is available now from Amazon.com and Barnes & Noble.

Do you plot your stories out or do you just start writing?

I’m one of those dreaded plotters. Nothing intimidates me more than the blank page, so an outline is something of a security blanket for me. I start out with a two or three page synopsis. It’s really more of a skeleton, but I know the general arc of the story. As I progress, I put more flesh on that skeleton and start playing with note cards. I find that outlining helps me in my revision process – I like to have a visual of where I’ve been before I start taking apart the machine and moving around the gears.

What was the funniest thing you learned about your heroine from writing their story?

Tara has a cranky cat named Oscar, who she adores. As I wrote Oscar, I realized that he was one of my current cats. I also worked a Labrador into the story who was the bridesmaid at my wedding. Animals always creep into my stories, and they are often very true to my life.

Which of your characters is most like you and which is least like you?

I think Tara is probably most like me. She’s introverted, pretty self-contained, and she follows her intuition. My professional background is in criminology, so I had a few tools to lend her.

Federal Agent Harry Li is Scully to her Mulder. He’s the rational, pragmatic guy who believes in only what he sees. I think that I’m probably least like Harry.

Can you describe your office or where you normally write?

My office is a former guest room. It gets a lot of morning and afternoon sun. I made a desk out of an old wooden door and a couple of file cabinets. I put some old glass on the top of it, so I can keep photos that inspire me underneath the glass. I keep a bulletin board with note cards of my latest project above the desk. And…my Wonder Woman collection is nearby, interspersed between books on my shelves.

Which came first the plot or the characters?

I’d been wanting to write a story about a heroine who uses Tarot cards for years. For DARK ORACLE, the inspiration for Tara was the Queen of Swords card from the Tarot deck. It shows a resolute woman staring off into the distance, holding her sword as if she’s cut herself. I’ve always loved that card, and wanted to build a heroine from that archetype.

Have you ever gotten stuck while writing a scene or chapter? How did you overcome it?

I think that the only real solution to writer’s block for me is the butt in chair method. I may do some brainstorming, doodling, or play with picking cards at random, but I ultimately have to power through it.

Tarot cards are a neat way to get the imagination juiced up. When I get stuck, pulling a card or two and taking my characters in that direction often helps me work back into the bigger picture.

What is the wackiest thing that’s ever happened to you since you started writing?

Having more than one name is a bit weird. I also write urban fantasy as Laura Bickle. I sometimes forget who I’m supposed to “be” and answer to the wrong name. It also makes for very long conference badges!

What words of wisdom can you offer other aspiring writers?

I suggest that everyone try National Novel Writing Month (www.nanowrimo.org) at least once. NaNoWriMo taught me the some techniques that really helped put me on the road to being published. Both DARK ORACLE and ROGUE ORACLE are NaNoWriMo books.

First, NaNo helped me integrate writing into my daily life. NaNoWriMo requires that one keep a pace of around 1600 words a day. It became easier and easier for me to fold that into my life, to keep the momentum going.

I also learned how to suspend the dreaded inner editor. My inner editor can become quite vicious. NaNoWriMo allows me to hold her at bay for weeks, allowing me to get the skeleton of a story down on the page.

NaNo taught me to finish. Completing a manuscript is the most important thing that a writer can do to further her career. And doing it again. And again.

What can we expect next from you?

I’ve got a couple of fun projects in the hopper at the moment. More news soon!

Delphi’s Daughters, a matriarchal society comprised of the descendants of the Oracle of Delphi including Tara, is a group of very talented woman that can harness what could only be described as magic. Tarot card divination, pyromancy, geomancy, scrying – and the list goes on. Why this correlation between oracles, more specifically the Oracle of Delphi, and these elementally talented women?

The Delphic Oracle is probably the most famous oracle of the ancient world. The priestess of the Temple of Apollo, the Pythia, wielded a great deal of political influence over leaders who sought her advice and the priestesses who served the temple.

I was intrigued by the idea of an order of women exerting subtle and powerful influence over the ancient world. I wondered what would happen if that order of priestesses went underground and survived to the modern day. What would their role in world events be? In my ORACLE books, the title of Pythia is handed down through generations of women, all oracles with their own unique talent for foreseeing the future. Delphi’s Daughters are a secret organization, nudging world events and gathering information through vast networks of helpers. Their behavior is sometimes sinister, sometimes pure, but always secretive. No one but the Pythia herself knows how the puzzle of world events fits together, and her priestesses are often left in the dark, guessing at her motives.

In the ORACLE world, the current Pythia is a pyromancer. She sees the future in dancing flames. The heroine of the story, Tara Sheridan, is a cartomancer who uses Tarot cards to create criminal profiles. Other characters have abilities with scrying, astronomy, and geomancy. Delphi’s Daughters come from all walks of life: they are physicists, soccer moms, artists, farmers, and dancers. They are women just like women you know and walk past on the street. But they are women with a secret.

Given all the ways your oracles used to foresee the future, why did you choose Tarot Cards?

I’ve been reading and collecting Tarot cards since I was a teenager. I love the art…and they make excellent story prompts! I wrote both ORACLE books with a deck of cards at hand. Whenever I got stuck on a character or plot point, I picked a card at random and ran with it.

Have you had your cards read/or do you read Tarot cards?

I go to the local Renaissance Festival every year and get my Tarot cards read by the same card reader. Lots of fun.

I putter with the cards once in awhile for myself, but would never consider myself to be a professional reader by any stretch of the imagination.

You featured radiation exposure in both your stories (a little eerie given the aftermath of the Japanese Tsunami), why did you pick such an unusual element? And did the Soviet government really tell people to drink vodka and milk?

Yes, vodka and milk, of all things.

One of my childhood fears was Chernobyl. I was in middle school when the news reports began to filter in that something terrible had happened in Europe…that a Soviet reactor had melted down, breached containment in fire and invisible poison. The Ukraine seemed a thousand worlds away. And I was less than a bystander, an ordinary kid on an ordinary street in the U.S.

But something about the story captivated and frightened me. Every so often, I take my shovel to the forgotten stuff in the back of my brain and see what I can unearth. And this was one of those things that stuck with me.

Can you tell us a little bit about your latest release?

My latest release is ROGUE ORACLE.

Tara Sheridan is the best criminal profiler around – and the most unconventional. Trained as a forensic psychologist, Tara also specializes in Tarot card reading. But she doesn’t need her divination skills to realize that the new assignment from her friend and sometime lover, Agent Harry Li, is a dangerous proposition in every way.

Former Cold War operatives, all linked to a top-secret operation tracking the disposal of nuclear weapons in Russia, are disappearing. There are no bodies, and no clues to their whereabouts. Harry suspects a conspiracy to sell arms to the highest bidder. The cards – and Tara’s increasingly ominous dreams – suggest something darker. Even as Tara sorts through her feelings for Harry and her fractured relationships with the mysterious order known as Delphi’s Daughters, a killer is growing more ruthless by the day. And a nightmare that began decades ago in Chernobyl will reach a terrifying endgame that not even Tara could have foreseen…
ROGUE ORACLE is available now from Amazon.com and Barnes & Noble.

Do you plot your stories out or do you just start writing?

I’m one of those dreaded plotters. Nothing intimidates me more than the blank page, so an outline is something of a security blanket for me. I start out with a two or three page synopsis. It’s really more of a skeleton, but I know the general arc of the story. As I progress, I put more flesh on that skeleton and start playing with note cards. I find that outlining helps me in my revision process – I like to have a visual of where I’ve been before I start taking apart the machine and moving around the gears.

What was the funniest thing you learned about your heroine from writing their story?

Tara has a cranky cat named Oscar, who she adores. As I wrote Oscar, I realized that he was one of my current cats. I also worked a Labrador into the story who was the bridesmaid at my wedding. Animals always creep into my stories, and they are often very true to my life.

Which of your characters is most like you and which is least like you?

I think Tara is probably most like me. She’s introverted, pretty self-contained, and she follows her intuition. My professional background is in criminology, so I had a few tools to lend her.

Federal Agent Harry Li is Scully to her Mulder. He’s the rational, pragmatic guy who believes in only what he sees. I think that I’m probably least like Harry.

Can you describe your office or where you normally write?

My office is a former guest room. It gets a lot of morning and afternoon sun. I made a desk out of an old wooden door and a couple of file cabinets. I put some old glass on the top of it, so I can keep photos that inspire me underneath the glass. I keep a bulletin board with note cards of my latest project above the desk. And…my Wonder Woman collection is nearby, interspersed between books on my shelves.

Which came first the plot or the characters?

I’d been wanting to write a story about a heroine who uses Tarot cards for years. For DARK ORACLE, the inspiration for Tara was the Queen of Swords card from the Tarot deck. It shows a resolute woman staring off into the distance, holding her sword as if she’s cut herself. I’ve always loved that card, and wanted to build a heroine from that archetype.

Have you ever gotten stuck while writing a scene or chapter? How did you overcome it?

I think that the only real solution to writer’s block for me is the butt in chair method. I may do some brainstorming, doodling, or play with picking cards at random, but I ultimately have to power through it.

Tarot cards are a neat way to get the imagination juiced up. When I get stuck, pulling a card or two and taking my characters in that direction often helps me work back into the bigger picture.

What is the wackiest thing that’s ever happened to you since you started writing?

Having more than one name is a bit weird. I also write urban fantasy as Laura Bickle. I sometimes forget who I’m supposed to “be” and answer to the wrong name. It also makes for very long conference badges!

What words of wisdom can you offer other aspiring writers?

I suggest that everyone try National Novel Writing Month (www.nanowrimo.org) at least once. NaNoWriMo taught me the some techniques that really helped put me on the road to being published. Both DARK ORACLE and ROGUE ORACLE are NaNoWriMo books.

First, NaNo helped me integrate writing into my daily life. NaNoWriMo requires that one keep a pace of around 1600 words a day. It became easier and easier for me to fold that into my life, to keep the momentum going.

I also learned how to suspend the dreaded inner editor. My inner editor can become quite vicious. NaNoWriMo allows me to hold her at bay for weeks, allowing me to get the skeleton of a story down on the page.

NaNo taught me to finish. Completing a manuscript is the most important thing that a writer can do to further her career. And doing it again. And again.

What can we expect next from you?

I’ve got a couple of fun projects in the hopper at the moment. More news soon!

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Cinco de Mayo, a day late

Posted on May 6, 2011 by Linda Andrews

Give us your poor, your tired, your victories against overwhelming odds, your food and spirits, and we’ll make it into a proper holiday.

America is a nation of mixed heritages, and nothing reflects that better than our holidays. Indeed, each one reflects a particular immigrant groups impact on our country. And, it should be noted, that these groups were not readily accepted in mainstream America. Each were discriminated against. Each were villianized by certain groups to be a threat against our ideals and principles. Such rubbish.

Yesterday, we celebrated Cinco de Mayo. One of my favorite days and not just for the food, although that’s a big part.:-) I grew up in the southwest and love the culture and indigenous live here. Whether it was the natives who carved the canals that carried the water for crops and made my hometown of Phoenix possible, or the Spanish explorers that brought Europeans to the area.

For one day, everyone can join the Mexican (Latino) family.

Even if Cinco de Mayo is not really celebrated in most of Mexico.

So what is Cinco de Mayo. It’s not Mexican Independence Day. In many ways it’s even better. Cinco de Mayo commemorates the day when Mexican forces, out-numbered two-to-one, defeated the well-equipment and undefeated (almost 50 years of victories) French invading army at the Battle of Puebla.

And what American doesn’t love an underdog?

If that’s not enough, it is popularly believed that had the Mexicans been defeated at Puebla, France would have occupied Mexico. VEry significant for US history given that this happened in 1862 and France’s southern leanings. Since both the territories of New Mexico and Arizona had sided with the Confederacy, and Texas was a card carrying member of the CSA, the American Civil War could have ended very differently.

So raise your Margarita to those soldiers, civilians and peasants at the Battle of Puebla.

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Mealtime Characterization

Posted on May 4, 2011 by Linda Andrews

As I write my latest novel, I have begun to think about quirks that I can use to keep my characters distinct enough so that readers can identify them by their habits instead of using the ubiquitous ‘he said, she said’ tags.  The scene I’m currently working on takes place in a resturant, so I brainstormed to come up with a few habits I observed while people watching at a local eating establishment.

1-People who talk with their hands will also shake their sodas or stab their food in your direction to make a point.

2-Some people wolf their food down, barely chewing it, before washing it down with great gulps of soda.

3-People will pick items off their sandwich, instead of ordering it the way they like it. I’ve even seen a few use a napkin to scrap off unwanted condiments.

4-People don’t clean up after themselves; while others clean up after the clean up crew.

5-Some people salt their ketchup, not their fries.

6-Some eat their sandwich first, then their fries, then drink their drink. One thing at a time.

7-I’ve watched people pick the seeds off the hamburger bun, before eating it.

8-Not everyone eats their pickles.

9-Some people take the lettuce, tomato, pickles, onions, etc off and eat them first.

10-And my personal favorite–Some people add the fries directly to their sandwich in neat rows before eating.

11-I confess to dunking my French fries into my milk shake.

Obviously at a fancy resturant, there would be polishing the silverware, inspecting the glasses for water stains and how someone drapes their napkin (if at all), plus many more. Each of which could irritate your characters and add tension to the scene.

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