Jordan L. Hawk's Blog, page 29

Happy 2013, everyone! I hope you all had a safe and wonderful New Year’s Eve, including celebrating with whatever traditions you might have.

We had a lot of New Year’s traditions when I grew up, most of them handled by my grandmother. On New Year’s Day, she’d put on a pot of collard greens and black-eyed peas to boil all day, which meant the entire house reeked by the afternoon (if you’ve never smelled boiling greens, count yourself lucky). The collard greens stood for paper money and the black-eyed peas for coins, and were eaten to ensure wealth in the coming year. Although I never ate them, because no way was I putting something that smelled so bad in my mouth!

The one tradition I have continued, is taking down the Christmas tree before midnight on New Year’s Eve. According to superstition, if you don’t take it down by then, all of the bad luck from the previous year will come into the new year on the tree. When I was really young, before we had to worry about things like town ordinances, we’d go out and burn the tree on New Year’s Eve, just to make sure all the bad luck was destroyed.

What New Year’s traditions do you have? Let me know in the comments, and be entered to win a random drawing for a $5 Amazon Gift Certificate! Please note: you must include an email address so I’ll have some way to contact you.

But that’s not all….

We have THREE grand prizes. You as a reader can go to EACH blog and comment with your email address and be entered to win. Yep, you can enter over 200 times!

Now what are those prizes?

1st Grand Prize: A Kindle Fire or Nook Tablet

2nd Grand Prize: A $300 Amazon or B&N Gift Card

3rd Grand Prize (US only, sorry!): A Swag Pack that contains paperbacks, ebooks, 50+ bookmarks, cover flats, magnets, pens, coffee cozies, and more!

Click here for a listing of the other participating blogs!

 

In a long-distance relationship and missing your sweetie? Tired of just blowing each other kisses over Facetime or Skype? Don’t worry, science has solved your problems. Just smooch this thing here:

For those of you who are really into ostrich eggs.

According to Digital Trends, this…thing…plugs into a USB port and allows you to simulate kissing each other. Just be sure to keep your eyes closed while you do.

UPDATED: OMG DO YOU THINK IT GIVES TONGUE?! Oh lord, I’ll never sleep again.

I was tagged by the amazing Charlie Cochet to participate in The Next Big Thing Blog Hop, where authors share tidbits about their works in progress! Thanks, Charlie!

What is the working title of your book?

Master of Ghouls (SPECTR #2)

Where did the idea come from for the book?

Several years ago I had the idea for a vampire novel based on the old, pre-1800s folklore. In the old European traditions, vampires were dead bodies animated by demonic spirits (an idea Buffy the Vampire Slayer later revived with great success). The corpse might be de-possessed by cutting off the head, but the spirit itself was much harder to destroy and would simply move on to the next body. The easiest solution was to just make it impossible for the vampire to get out of the coffin: staking the body wasn’t a way of “killing” the vampire, but rather of pinning it in the grave so it couldn’t get out.

For example, this “vampire” skeleton uncovered by archaeologists in Bulgaria. Note the rusted iron stake meant to pin it in place.

Interesting idea, but as any author will tell you, ideas are the easy part. I had no story to go along with it. Then one day last summer, I wondered what would happen if the vampire spirit jumped into a body–just as it was being revived by CPR. Suddenly the vampire is stuck in a living body, along with the poor bastard who owned it in the first place. Throw in an exorcist and a “psychic FBI” type of government agency, and bam. Story.

What genre does your book fall under?

M/M paranormal romance.

Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie?

I have no clue. But this hottie would make a perfect Caleb/Gray (the possessed hottie and the vampire).

What is a one sentence synopsis of your book?

What happens when an exorcist falls in love with the demon he’s supposed to remove?

Will your book be self published or represented by an agency?

Self all the way, baby!

How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?

About three weeks.

What other books would you compare this story to within your genre.

You know, I’m not really sure.

Who or what inspired you to write this book?

I’m a sucker for a good possession story. Plus I love going back to old folklore and drawing inspiration from there. The Victorians cleaned up or altered so much, and it’s fun to delve back into the darker, more horrific tales of our more-distant ancestors.

What else about your book might interest the reader?

I write fairly explicit sex scenes. So there’s that!

Next week, December 26th, the blog hop rolls on with Skyla Dawn Cameron, Amanda Stone, and Athena Brady!

This is so freaking cool: via io9, real-life Victorian espionage gadgets.

This is an actual camera hidden inside a freaking watch from 1886!

Man, Griffin from Widdershins totally needs one of those camera watches. Check out the whole article for more coolness, including a gun hidden in a ring. Steampunk James Bond is sounding more like a historical possibility all the time.

You all know I’m a sucker for insane ads from the past. This week, Kiernan Kelly has a wonderful blog post dedicated to retro Christmas lunacy. Two of my favorites:

Just the thing if you’re a deranged killer!

And a freezer big enough to stash the bodies in! Perfect! New Year’s is gonna be awesome.

Click here to view pervy Santas, spousal abuse, and other time-honored Christmas traditions of the past!

Most gift guides for writers suggest things like pretty journals and fancy pens, which is really useful only for those who still write long hand. Since my handwriting looks like an epileptic spider got dipped in ink and turned loose on the page, I’ve accumulated an entire stack of unopened journals too nice to drop in the recycling bin. I’ll probably be crushed to death someday when the pile falls on me, which I guess would at least be a nicely ironic death for an author and might even snag me a Darwin Award.

Here then is a guide of really useful stuff to get the writer in your life:

Hand-made soaps. Not because you’re supporting a craftsperson, or because of the calming benefits of aromatherapy, or anything like that. No, because those of us who work from home sometimes forget to bathe for days at a time. This gift will serve as a gentle reminder that writing a shower scene isn’t a substitute for taking one ourselves.

This soap is from Ana Banana, which is where I buy my soap. Click on the picture to visit her site!

A spare coffee maker for the office (or wherever your writer works) to ensure a continuous supply of caffeine. This is critical for those afternoon slumps, when our brains want a nap but we still have 1,000 words to go. Keurigs work great because the reservoir means we don’t have to keep leaving the room for water, but any model will do.

Who says there’s no such thing as magic beans?

Carbonite, or other form of automatic file backup. Have you ever seen a writer who just lost a few thousand words, or worse, an entire manuscript? Carrie at the prom had nothing on us. Get this for your own protection.
Freedom, or similar internet-blocking software, because most of us have the attention span of an over-caffeinated squirrel. We’ll write for five minutes, go online to “look something up real quick” and spend the next three hours clicking links. Five, if we happen to end up on TVTropes.
Booze. I’m not saying all writers drink, but there’s a reason most of the networking at conferences happens at the bar. And remember: a fine bottle of Scotch today will save you from being killed off in a novel tomorrow.

Does anyone have any further suggestions for author-friendly gifts? Let me know in the comments!

In honor of The Hobbit opening this weekend, I give you this absolutely hilarious video. Ever wonder why the Ringwraiths always wore black and didn’t bring their dragons with them in the first movie? Find out in “Fellowship of the Ringwraiths”:

Looking for something special to make your holiday party memorable? Something other than the usual cheese balls and jello rings everyone trots out this time of year? Maybe some, I don’t know, life-sized white chocolate baby heads for your guests to snack on?

For the love of all that is holy, kill it! KILL IT WITH FIRE!

Yes, someone actually thought this was a good idea. I assume that someone was Satan, because no one with a soul could possibly come up with this. All I know is, if I go to a party and the host has a pair of horrifying chocolate baby heads, staring at me with their blank, awful eyes, I’m turning around and leaving. Because you know some horror-movie shit is going to go down, and none of the guests will ever be seen alive again.

The perpetrator of this madness is Conjurer’s Kitchen, who also have a lovely line of cakes made to look like dissected human heads, body bags, and brains. Seriously, do not click on that link if you’re at all squeamish. As for me, I’m sticking with fruitcake. (Via io9.)

I’m very excited to unveil my Lovecraft-Indiana Jones-Sherlock Holmes inspired novel Widdershins to an unsuspecting public. This book is dear to my heart: although never employed by a museum, my first degree was in archaeology and as a student I worked with museums quite often. As a result, I relished the chance to write about a Victorian-Era hero employed by a museum during the great age of scientific exploration. Of course, Whyborne would rather hide in his office than explore his own hometown, let alone traipse around the globe. It takes a certain ex-Pinkerton detective to convince him to come out of his shell, as in this excerpt:

The explosion was deafening; a huge cloud of fire rolled out the window after us, its immense heat brushing against my face as we tumbled into the snow.

We hit the ground and rolled. Flaming debris from the house came down around us; Griffin shoved me flat on my back, covering us both with his heavy coat.

The echoes of the explosion reflected back across the river, then slowly dwindled away, like dying thunder. The leaping flames threw warm light onto the falling snow, turning it into a storm of sparks pouring down from the heavens.

Griffin started to push himself off of me, then stopped. His hands were braced to either side of my shoulders, his legs twined with mine. My heart pounded, my palms sweated, and I was suddenly, acutely aware of how close his face was to mine.

“You’re a madman,” he whispered. “An utter madman.”

“Perhaps,” I allowed. “But it worked.”

The leaping light from the burning house painted his features in gold, highlighting his patrician nose and finding the threads of brown and blue in his green eyes. His pupils widened, the irises contracting to slivers. “Whatever am I to do with you?” he murmured.

The warmth of his breath feathered over my skin. Heat collected in my groin, my lips. My mouth was dry, my voice hoarse, and perhaps he was right and it was madness when I whispered, “Whatever you want.”

A shiver went through his body, perhaps because we were lying on the cold ground. But instead of getting up, he leaned closer, his overlong hair tumbling over his forehead. He paused, his mouth almost touching mine, his eyes seeming to ask a question.

It was madness; it was folly; it was sheer selfishness. I was delusional, misguided, wrong, out of control. I needed to pull back, to say something sane, to re-establish mastery over myself. I could not do this. I could not take this risk.

Later tonight, I’d relive this moment in my lonely bed and wonder if I’d done the right thing. But at least that would be familiar, would be something I knew how to cope with.

And yet the very thought felt like dying.

I surged forward, crossing the final, tiny gap and pressing my lips to his. It was awkward and desperate and frantic, but the feel of his mouth against mine sent a bolt of electricity straight down my spine. Just a moment, just this one kiss, surely that would be enough…

Then he kissed me back, and it would never be enough, a thousand years of this would not be enough. His mouth was hungry and insistent, his tongue probing my lips, asking for greater intimacy. I granted it, tongues swirling together, mine following his when it retreated and tasting him in return.

Widdershins is available at these fine retailers:

   

The official release date for Widdershins is tomorrow, so I thought I’d post a quick excerpt today. In this scene, our repressed hero Whyborne has agreed to go back to Griffin’s house for something more than friendly conversation.

***

Fortunately, it wasn’t long before we arrived in front of Griffin’s house. My stomach roiled as the cab clattered away: I couldn’t quite tell if it was from anticipation or nausea. My mouth felt dry, and my palms sweaty.

Griffin, on the other hand, seemed perfectly at ease as he unlocked the gate and led the way to his porch. Saul awaited us there, sitting tucked back from the snow, his ears flattened grouchily.

“Poor Saul,” Griffin crooned, pausing to pat his head. Saul meowed imperiously and went to the door, pressing his face into the crack until it opened.

“Come in,” Griffin said; perhaps he imagined I needed the encouragement. Perhaps I did need the encouragement. “Do you mind reviving the fire in the study upstairs while I feed Saul?”

“Of course not,” I said, glad to have something familiar to do. While he followed the orange tabby to the kitchen, I went up the stair and into the study.

The fire was well-banked; I knelt down in front of it and stoked the embers, adding a few logs, until the flames snapped and popped cheerfully. Snow built up against the windows; it would be hard for me to get home if it kept up this way.

I could still do the sensible thing and scurry back to my apartment while the weather allowed. But I couldn’t forget the kiss. The way Griffin pressed against me, the way he made my heart pound and my thoughts scatter…

…Was dangerous. I’d spent so many years in control, never yielding, and yet he walked into my life and suddenly I had no will to resist the desire enflaming my skin and stiffening my groin. The high wall I’d built around me had fallen, and I didn’t even know if I wanted it back.

Footsteps sounded on the stair behind me. I climbed to my feet and stood staring at the fire, not quite daring to turn around.

“Would you like something to drink?” he asked.

I considered it, but after my disgrace on Sunday, I couldn’t bring myself to risk it. “No. Thank you.”

He came up behind me, pausing only scant inches away. My body trembled from his nearness, and my lips ached with the need to be kissed again. What would he do? Would he touch me?

His breath stirred the small hairs at the nape of my neck. “Have you ever been with a man?”

I wanted to laugh; surely he was being generous. “No. I-I’ve never even been kissed before.” He might as well know what he was getting into.

He drew in a soft sip of breath, and I braced myself for mockery. “Truly?” he murmured, sounding awed. “Am I really the first to look beneath the cold exterior and see the passion seething within?”

I closed my eyes. His description had nothing to do with me; it couldn’t. “I don’t know what you mean.”

He chuckled softly, and a shiver ghosted over my skin, because he still touched me only with his breath. “Don’t you? You blind me, my dear, with your fire. Carefully controlled, directed only into the outlets you allow, but otherwise left to boil beneath the surface. You’re like a bottle of fine champagne, yearning to be opened. Year after year, the pressure building slowly, with no release. And ever since I met you, all I could think was what it would take to make…you…pop.”

Widdershins will be out tomorrow at Amazon, B&N, ARe, Smashwords, and Kobo!