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Books, philosophy

Rising: Resistance (and a giveaway!)

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Rising: Resistance
by Laura Josephsen
All Alphonse wants is a quiet summer at home before his final months at university. What he gets is a half-dead stranger on his doorstep and the task of delivering a package to the leader of his home country. Not long after he boards a train toward the capital, he’s attacked by knights, elite soldiers of the neighboring king.
Alphonse is temporarily rescued by Mairwyn, a mechanic with a haunted past and a deep hatred of knights. Together, they attempt to carry out Alphonse’s urgent errand, only to learn that if they fail, countless people will die.
And even if they succeed, they may not be able to prevent the war that lurks on the horizon.

I don’t even remember, now, how I first stumbled on Laura’s blog. I think maybe she had left a comment on Patricia C Wrede’s blog that caught my eye? (Was that you, Laura, or am I thinking of someone else?)

At any rate, when her book Confessions of the Underworld (Otherwise Known as High School) came out, I eagerly bought it, and loved it. So when she offered me the chance to read an advance copy of Rising: Resistance, I didn’t hesitate, already trusting her writing enough to know it would be good.

And it was. It was nothing at all like Confessions, even aside from the difference in genres. But it was so, so good in its own right, standing on its own merits. It certainly wasn’t a light read; while there was a great deal of humor in it, it also tackled some pretty weighty stuff. Laura has talked on her blog about the difficulty of putting her characters through dark places, and after reading Resistance, I understand a little better. The important thing is, though, that her characters grow through these hard times, and even though the reader gets put through the wringer right along with them, we get to grow and develop, too.


And that’s what makes a book truly stand out from the crowd, isn’t it? When you, the reader, get to become a little bit of a better person, a more whole person, just by reading it. And that doesn’t always happen just through tragedy – goodness knows many of the comedic books I’ve read have suddenly stretched me here and there before I know it. Any book that makes you care more about other human beings, about searching out deeper truths and living for something beyond yourself, is a great book.


Which is why I’m offering a giveaway (my first ever giveaway on this blog!) of an e-book edition of Rising: Resistance to one reader. Just leave a comment with a valid email address by 12:00am EST next Tuesday (March 7th), and I will randomly pick one commenter to win it. That’s it! No hoops to jump through – no requirements to follow this blog, Tweet about this giveaway, or anything like that (though, of course, if you want to do any of those things, I won’t stand in your way).


Good luck, and happy reading!



Should you not win the giveaway, you can buy Rising: Resistance by following any of these links:

Amazon Kindle
Amazon Paperback
Nook at Barnes & Noble
Smashwords

or check it out at

Goodreads
humor, quotes, writing

Transition

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I’m usually not good at transitions – you know, the “they walked through the woods for days. Then the adventure started again” type of phrases. I always feel like I have to fill in every detail, or I’m cheating.

But I’m getting better, and since I had to cover a four-year gap in the middle of a chapter of my Celtic MG/YA, I really needed to be concise.

This right here is quite possibly my favorite out of all the transition phrases I’ve ever written:

Life continued to be mildly not-fair for the next four years, at which point it took, in Cadi’s opinion anyway, a flying leap into monstrously unfair.

I’m not sure if I’ll actually keep it in the final draft or if I’ll end up editing it out due to it having a slightly different tone than the rest of the chapter – but for now, I’m just quite tickled over it.

How do you handle transitions?

Books

Announcing RISING

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RISING


by Laura Josephsen

All Alphonse wants is a quiet summer at home before his final months at university. What he gets is a half-dead stranger on his doorstep and the task of delivering a package to the leader of his home country. Not long after he boards a train toward the capital, he’s attacked by knights, elite soldiers of the neighboring king. Alphonse is temporarily rescued by Mairwyn, a mechanic with a haunted past and a deep hatred of knights. Together, they attempt to carry out Alphonse’s urgent errand, only to learn that if they fail, countless people will die. And even if they succeed, they may not be able to prevent the war that lurks on the horizon.

I am so excited to let you all know about this book! Laura sent me an early copy to review, and I loved it. Tore through it in two days, reading while I was fixing supper, when I was supposed to be doing school with Joy, and so on. I just couldn’t put it down.


I’m going to be doing a proper review next week – stay tuned for that – but I want to let you all know now that Rising is being released TODAY. Go forth and buy – you won’t be disappointed!


Rising on Amazon Kindle: http://www.amazon.com/Rising-Book-1-Resistance-ebook/dp/B0079DJ3HC/ref=sr_1_4?ie=UTF8&qid=1329351740&sr=8-4

Rising on Barnes and Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/rising-book-1-laura-josephsen/1038667187?ean=2940013930056

Rising on Smashwords: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/132824

Rising on Amazon paperback: http://www.amazon.com/Rising-Book-1-Resistance/dp/1469904357/ref=sr_1_4?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1329773440&sr=1-4

philosophy, writing

Rituals

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As Carl and I prepared our second pot of loose-leaf tea this morning, we started talking about how drinking tea really does help one get through the winter, which led me to musing about how it is the ritual involved in making tea (especially loose-leaf) that helps as much or even more than simply drinking a hot beverage.

Which led me to thinking about rituals in general, and how useful they are, and how in our quest to make life easier for ourselves, we have lost so many rituals that have helped us see and touch on the deeper meaning in life.

Tea, for one – the act of measuring the tea leaves, warming the pot, heating the water to the proper temperature, steeping for the prescribed time (and if you are fortunate enough to have a clear pot, watching the leaves expand as they steep), and then pouring the tea into your cup is far more work, true, than dunking a tea bag in a cup of hot water, but the reward is so much greater.

Or cooking. Yes, it’s easier and quicker (and times when it’s all one can do) to tear open bags of frozen vegetables and frozen chicken, dump it all into a pot with canned tomato sauce and a can of chicken broth, but I know from experience that it is so much more satisfying to chop fresh vegetables myself, adding them to the pot one at a time, slice up the meat that I cooked myself, use fresh tomatoes instead of canned sauce, and my own chicken stock. The ritual of preparing the food myself adds a depth of flavor that cannot come from anything else.

And I do realize that sometimes – often – it’s all one can do to do it the easy, quick way. Hey, I keep frozen vegetables in my freezer, tea bags in my cupboard. But if one can make something a ritual, by all means, do so.

I think that applies to writing, as well. I have one story I am attempting to write out longhand. It’s driving me distracted. My fingers (and wrists) have been long accustomed to typing: re-training them for long stretches of handwriting is torture. It takes longer, too – and to be perfectly honest, I just don’t have that time right now for writing all my stories by hand, first, and then typing them up. So I use the computer for most of my stories, saving only one out for writing by hand. I also keep a journal, so that by choosing (out of necessity) the quicker, easier, more practical path for writing, I don’t lose entirely the beauty of the ritual of pen scratching, ink flowing onto paper, hand creating what my mind sees, slowing down and enjoying the act of writing, as well as the result.

Books, fantasy, influences, writing

Influences: Susan Cooper

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Susan Cooper has been one of my favorite writers for oh, close to twenty years now, so I was delighted yesterday when looking over the list of ALA winners this year to see that she has been awarded the 2012 Edwards Award for The Dark Is Rising series. (Former winners include Gary Paulsen, Madeleine L’Engle, Lois Lowry, Orson Scott Card, and last year, Terry Pratchett.)

I don’t remember exactly how old I was when one of my older friends recommended Cooper to me, but I know I was young enough that Dad read through the books first, just to make sure there wasn’t going to be anything in them that would give me nightmares, and also so that he could talk with me about anything that might scare me in them (and why it was Dad who did that with these books, instead of Mom, I’m not exactly sure, because usually Mom was the one who did nightmare-screening for me – but it might have been when she was working, and didn’t have as much time, or it might simply have been that Dad thought they looked interesting). Dad liked the first one so much he read the rest of the series for his own enjoyment, not because he was worried for me. I think it’s the first series (but certainly not the last) that Dad and I both loved, instead of Mom and I. We also both loved the Arthurian connection – we’re kinda both geeks when it comes to King Arthur!

The curious thing, for a nightmare-prone kid like me, is that even though they were eerie and intense, they weren’t outright scary. I was certainly creeped out a few times during the reading of them (I think Greenwitch was the creepiest, for me), but not enough to trouble my dreams. I think because good, no matter how beleaguered or desperate, always triumphed in the end, even (and often especially) through the frailty and love of flawed human beings.

And Will. Short, stocky, serious Will, with the enormous loving family and the heavy burden he shouldered so ably. His friendships with Merriman, with Bran, with the Drew children, and within his own family all so different, and drawn so finely.

Merriman himself was my first introduction to a character who was both good and hard, who could be ruthless in his pursuit of the Light. The Light that burns, sometimes, that doesn’t have room for softness – now, of course, that idea is commonplace, but at the time, I’d never read anything that showed that goodness doesn’t always look good and can, in fact, sometimes look cruel, that looking at the big picture can sometimes mean the details get blurred.

Cooper is another of those writers whose books shaped not just my own writing, but my life. I really can’t think of what sort of a writer I would be today were it not for the richness and depth of her stories. She has written many books besides The Dark is Rising series, of course (I bought Victory! for my dad for his birthday a few years ago – another one that we both loved), and I’ve enjoyed almost all of them, but tDiR has a special place in my heart.

Not to mention, of course, that I hold her and Lloyd Alexander between them directly responsible for my love affair with Wales, that land of magic and mystery and heroism. Which makes me think – maybe this is the year for me to pull out my Welsh language materials that I’ve had for an embarrassingly long time and get to work teaching myself the language. Maybe I should teach it to Joy and Grace at the same time, we three can learn together!

Or not.

Life Talk

Thrills

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I follow USBSF (United States Bobsled & Skeleton Federation) on Twitter. For a few years when I was a teenager, my dad and I spent almost every winter’s weekend volunteering at various sporting events – mostly sliding (bobsled, luge, skeleton) in Lake Placid. I learned to love the sports then, especially skeleton. My favorite event was the one where I had the job of cleaning the sliders’ shoes before they went down the track – any debris attached to their spikes could interfere with their starting run, and slow them down or even throw them off. I was so nervous at first that I wasn’t going to do it properly, but I soon got the hang of it, and LOVED it – being there at the start with them, feeling all professional, like I was really an important part of things!

(Usually I got stuck with parking lot duty. Important, but boring.)

I even got to clean Jimmy Shea’s shoes that competition – now that’s not something everyone can say!

As you know, I’m a figure skater. But there is something thrilling about the sliding sports. One of my dreams is to someday go down a track on a skeleton sled. I’ve seen it with my own eyes – I’ve heard the whoosh of the runners biting into the ice – I’ve felt the excitement build at the start of the track as the sliders prepare themselves and then take off – I’ve been at the bottom when they come in, still buzzed from the adrenaline rush. And yes, I’ve seen enough crashes to know how dangerous it can be. I don’t really care. I still want to try someday, just once.

I remembered that again today when USBSF mentioned about the sleds sounding like bullets going down the track in St Moritz. I replied to them, saying I wanted to experience that someday. They said? Absolutely must try sometime!

I don’t look like your typical thrill-seeker, and there’s a lot of things I won’t try – I’m not even a big fan of roller coasters. But I don’t know, something about skeleton, it just makes me want to throw off my inhibitions and toss caution to the wind.

(I also want to do this someday, but both my father and husband panic every time I mention it –

photo courtesy of callaurbanski.com
– so I don’t talk about it much anymore.)
Do you have anything on your bucket list that seems out-of-character to people who know you? What do you think it says about us as people, our desire to seek thrills? If I ever do get that chance to ride a skeleton sled, who’s coming with me? It’ll be AWESOME!
Books, characters, critiquing, writing

Betraying Your Characters

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I don’t usually write book reviews, but occasionally, on Goodreads, I’ll leave a review if I really have something that I think is worth saying. Something positive, that is. A lifetime of having “if you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all” ingrained into me prevents me from leaving negative reviews. If I don’t like a book, I usually just don’t talk about it.

Until the last book I reviewed. I gave it one star, and I left a heartfelt, decidedly un-positive review. Why? What made me feel so strongly about this particular book that I had to say something?

Some people who reviewed it said that the author betrayed her readers, but it wasn’t that that left me with such a sour taste in my mouth.

The author betrayed her characters.

This was the third book in a trilogy. She had spent the first two books building up her characters in a certain way, and then, in this final book, she completely ripped them out of their old selves – the ones she still included. Some characters who had been built up in such a way as to expect them to play a major role in this book just faded from the pages. Certain relationships that had been teased at – well, I was going to say that they fizzled, but in fact, they weren’t even there. And the characters that did carry over?

They were not themselves.

Not the main character, and not the secondary characters.

And the story? It was flat. I can only imagine because the author had to fight with her characters every step of the way, forcing them to conform to her vision instead of letting them be themselves, and their revenge was to make the story boring.

To me, as a writer, this is one of the worst things you can do – force your characters to act, well, out-of-character. It is a betrayal of them, and ends up being a betrayal of yourself as well, because, of course, the characters have sprung from you.

I make no secret of the fact that all of my stories are character-driven rather than plot-driven. To me, it is the characters that make the plot – people interacting with each other and with events. So perhaps I make a bigger deal of this than it really is. An improbable plot? I can shrug off with a laugh. Wrenching your characters out of themselves and turning them into puppets?

Outrage. Outrage to the point where I’m not sure I’ll ever read anything new from this author again, even though I’ve enjoyed almost all of her other books. If her own characters can’t trust her, how can I?

And so I had to vent, even to the point of leaving a negative review (sorry Mom, Dad, Grandma, Grandpa, and all my aunts and uncles – sometimes you just gotta say something not-nice). (Although you will notice I didn’t link to the review – you can find it if you look, but I’m not going to make it too easy. I still have some principles!)

What are the writing crimes you cannot forgive in yourself or any other author?

characters, fantasy, humor, world-building, writing

Dream-Maker

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After the fun of my sci-fi mash-up dream, and urged on by rockinlibrarian (also aided and abetted by rthstewart, who nearly made me snort tea all over my computer with her take on the animosity between Lando Calrissian and Mal Reynolds (I am so going to think “Not right, man wearin’ a cape” the next time I watch Empire Strike Back, rth!)), I decided I had to start writing it down as a story. Not one for publication, or even for putting up on ff.net due to my blatant self-insert (but she’s not a Mary-Sue! She is not perfect and nobody is in love with her except her off-screen husband, but she and Mal do have great fun with harmless flirting by passing insults at each other), but just a way to get some of this marvelous creativity my subconscious was providing me with down on paper.

I’m about ten thousand words in, and it’s getting crazier and more peppered with cameos from other sci fi/fantasy stories with each paragraph. Mara Jade has insisted on popping in (for more than just a brief cameo, thankyouverymuch, what do you take her for?), and it’s becoming very clear to me that the Doctor would never consent to being left out of a madcap adventure like this, so it is clearly my duty to get caught up on that show, since I still haven’t made it all the way through the Ninth Doctor (though even the few episodes that I have seen have left me with a tendency to say “Fantastic!” just like Christopher Eccleston).

But aside from the sheer fun of this, and the marvelous outlet it has become for releasing any stress in my life, the other nice thing about this story (simply titled “fun” in my computer documents) is that is stirring up my creativity for my other writings, as well. Did you know I hadn’t written one word of fiction since before Christmas, up until I started this nonsense project? Not. One. Word. (Speaking of things that ain’t right.)

And then yesterday, I actually opened up my current MG WIP and skimmed it over, thinking how ready I am to get back to writing more about Cadi &co. And then I started thinking about Maia and Len (my older YA 1920s adventure-fantasy) and realized the first draft had finally settled enough that I was ready to tackle putting it into decent shape for the second draft.

Today I have to take care of some basic household chores (Carl’s been helping out a lot – blessed man keeps washing dishes for me, which is marvelous, darling, thank you – but breadmaking and laundry are still two tasks that will always be delegated to me), but I’m hoping to spend some time this afternoon or evening in “real” writing, writing I might actually be able to show to the world someday.

And I will not be abandoning my “fun” story, either – I have a sneaking suspicion that this is one tale that will stretch out for many years, to be added to whenever it strikes my fancy or I am getting bored, and never quite coming to an end.

What do you do to get your creative juices flowing again? What are some science fiction or fantasy characters you would add to a crazy story like mine?

humor, Life Talk

To Sleep, Perchance …

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I haven’t been doing anything terribly interesting this week, writing-wise or life-wise. However, apparently my subconscious is doing its best to make up for my dull life by WILD dreams.

The first night wasn’t so great – it was actually more of a nightmare. Trapped on an abandoned cruise ship with a serial killer, me against him, (apparently I was a detective) me trying to catch him but feeling uneasily certain he was toying with me. Thankfully I woke up before the final confrontation. The overall tone of that dream was dark and creepy, even more than the events in it. Took several cups of tea that morning before I felt normal again!

The dream returned in a lighter fashion the next few nights – the cruise ship wasn’t deserted, and it had more of a Peter Wimsey feel – still serious, but not creepy, and this time, I always had the upper hand over the killer. One night it wasn’t even a murderer I was after, but a jewel thief.

Then last night – oh, I have no idea where this one came from, but I do most earnestly hope it returns, because FUN – my dream was a veritable sci-fi television mashup.

Started out in a green clearing, trees all around. All kinds of characters from sci-fi tv were waiting for their assignments from a platform at one end of the clearing (and no, I don’t remember any of them clearly). I ended up being sent on a quest with Chakotay (from Star Trek: Voyager) and Mal (Captain Malcolm Reynolds from Firefly). Now, I was myself – Louise – and had no idea why I was tagging along, but dudes, I was not complaining. Both Mal and Chakotay (naturally) wanted to be in charge, but since we’d only been given a direction to go in, no actual specifics as to what our quest was (bad planning, Management), there weren’t too many problems at first.

Then we ran into a friend I know in real life, except something was weird about her, and then, as we were chatting, she told me that she’d downloaded her consciousness into an android’s body because she’d been afraid of getting fat, and droids’ bodies never change. And then she ended up coming along with us because she had nothing better to do.

Things got hazy after that (I think I was starting to move toward waking up) … I remember a fight between Mal and Chakotay, and then a fight between Mal and my android friend (Mal, apparently, had a lot of anger issues to work out – though the droid friend started the second fight, and would have won it except I tried to pull them apart and accidentally dropped her off the cliff, but we figured she survived because, hey, droid bodies are remarkably resilient), and then just as we were getting close to figuring out what the point was of the quest, what we were after to begin with …

thump thump thump little feet coming up to the bed, “I have to go potty” little voice whispered, and even though Carl got up and I was able to get back to sort-of sleep, the dream was gone.

I most sincerely hope it returns tonight – I want to figure out this quest now (and also, would like to know if I was sent for more than just taking notes and pushing droids off cliffs).

What sort of fun dreams have you been having lately?

Note: I have not watched any sci-fi shows in the last several weeks, and the only sci-fi book I’ve read has been A Swiftly Tilting Planet, which is more science fantasy than science fiction, nor have I been reading/watching anything related to mysterious happenings aboard a cruise ship, so I really, really have no idea where these dreams are coming from. But they are, with the exception of that first nightmare, immensely amusing to me.

figure skating, God, Life Talk, philosophy, writing

Sacred Joy

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On the second-to-last night of 2011, I unexpectedly got the best gift of the year – two free tickets to see Stars on Ice, my favorite show in the world, in Lake Placid, my favorite village in the world. My mother-in-law, already planning on visiting for the holiday, came out a day early so she could baby-sit the littles; the friend who gave us the free tickets had two others she gave to my mother and sister, so Carl and I met Mom and Lis in the village, had dinner together (served by the Slavic version of Basil Fawlty, though he was more harried than rude, but still – Carl was the first to come up with the comparison and it was so apt), and then went to the SHOW.
It was to flip over.
(I know, groan, but come on, you don’t expect me to get a picture of Ryan Bradley mid-back-flip and not come up with an excuse to use it and make a lame pun with.)

Our seats were in the bleachers, but when they did the retakes for tv after the show we were able to sneak down and take the seats of four people who had left. I pulled my camera out of my bag and just started clicking. Kurt Browning was gracious enough to do the majority of his retakes right in front of where we were sitting. My sister and I might have fan-girl squee-ed just a little.

It was a two+ hour drive back to Albany after the show – the weather was hovering between rain and ice through most of the Adirondacks, which meant we had to drive slowly. So what do two people do to keep each other awake on a late-night long drive back home? Well, my sister and I might have done more squee-ing over the likes of Kurt, Ryan, Todd Eldredge, etc, but since it was Carl and I, of course we started talking philosophy.
Philosophy of figure skating? Why, of course! 

Way back in college, I wrote a paper on the debate as to whether figure skating was sport or art. My stupid, stupid English professor gave me a C, not because it was poorly written, but because he didn’t think it was a real issue (note: at the beginning of the semester he told us anything was acceptable as a topic, and cited one of his favorite papers from the previous year, on “Why Blondes Have More Fun). I looked at him and said, “I am a figure skater: trust me, it is an issue.”

He refused to believe me; that is the one and only C I have ever received on any assignment in an English class. And yes, it was close to ten years ago, but IT STILL RANKLES.

Anyway. Carl was asking me about my thoughts on it, and being wiser now, I wasn’t so quick to jump to the defense of figure skating as sport. I told him that I couldn’t really be objective on the matter, because figure skating was so much more to me than anything I could describe.

You see, when I am on the ice, just as when I am writing, I feel I am coming closer to the me I am meant to be (I know this all sounds a little “woo-woo.” Sorry about that), back to the core of who I am, the Louise God intended me to be with all the baggage stripped away. Only skating and writing do that for me – nothing else. It is too close to my heart; I cannot speak objectively about it. Even when I am not skating myself, watching pure, good skating gives me an echo of that. It satisfies me in a way nothing else does, the same way that reading a brilliantly-written book satisfies me even when I am not writing myself.

And I am not a great skater, but when I am on the ice I feel like I am great. I am always pretty sure I look like this:

Joannie Rochette and Sasha Cohen)

Or this:
I want to be Katia Gordeeva when I grow up

And I really look like this:
True story – I got done with this spiral and told my friend who was holding the camera “That was great! My leg was really up there, my head was high, it was an awesome spiral!” She said, “uh-huh,” and handed me the camera. I was shocked to see I had only achieved a straight line – but I suppose I should be thankful at least my head was up and my leg was straight. I don’t always even accomplish that.

Or this:
SELL that final pose, girl!

But that doesn’t matter. Not really. I do my best skating when I am all alone in a rink, with no one around to make me self-conscious. It’s not a solitary act for most, but like writing, it is for me.
And that – because it is almost sacred to me – is why it brings me such joy to watch it done well. Oh sure, the eye candy is nice, too, but skating is unique and special and wondrous simply because, for me, it is an act of worship.
As is writing.
It’s kind of a nice way to end the year, isn’t it, making those connections and getting an unexpected chance to experience that again?
It makes me want to write more, too, and to remember more of what my writing is – not just a hobby or career, but an essential part of me, one of those elements that makes me me, and something that brings me closer to my best, my purest version of myself.
And that is the last bit of philosophizing you will hear from me until next year. 
Happy New Year’s, friends!