While Ferocity (Book 2 of the Feral Trilogy) took off on wobbly legs for various reasons, I still take pride in watching it teeter into the world. I never expected more than the first book. Never dared dream that readers would sympathize with the geds that rampaged among the humans.
And yes, it's pronounced geds, with a hard "g". Like gore, gruff, gratuity; and it's explained why it's ged and not jed in the book if... I digress. When I write with a bloody pen, I tend to lose my filter a little more. Call it a necessary evil. A lifting of my personal veil so I can reach into darker, deeper places that I might put my nightmares on display. Speaking of my nightmares, yes, there's a third book coming. I'll begin work on Frenzy (Book 3) in the early months of 2023. Before that, I need to shift my attention to tending roses again. It can be a tad stilting, sometimes, to shift gears, but it keeps me on my toes. Until then, my lovelies, try to behave. And perhaps, leave a review for my new baby, would you? Daxel and the girls and feeling kinda lonely. Ta-ta
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I'm a glut for all things horror, and it thrilled me to no end to find that one of my favorite authors, Sheri Velarde, released a new book this week. This tempting collection of shorts beckons, and I hope you'll find joy amongst the pages that I so fervently did. Blurb:
Here are eighteen stories of horror, dark fantasy and sci-fi, and just plain dark and weird from author Sheri Velarde. Several have been previously published in various anthologies throughout the years, but are collected together for the first time ever. Also there are some new stories here to round out this unique collection. Excerpt from short story Everything Went Red: I closed my eyes, hoping for darkness. Instead, the orange-red glow which now permeated our world still managed to seep in. Did true darkness even exist anymore? I wondered if any of us would ever know. Our world was dying, and I doubted we could find a way to stop it. Deciding that sleep would elude me again, I got up and went to what we called a library. We were in a large bunker, deep underground. You would think I’d have to turn on lights to walk around, but no, the glow from above somehow had sunk down and embedded itself in the very walls. The radiation was spreading. It seeped into us right now even as most of us slept. The end was near, and we would go out with a whimper instead of a roar. I went into the quiet room which housed our books and meager computers. I had read the history books about the world before the red, before the war, at least a dozen times. They sounded more like fairytales, for we did have a copy of those as well, than history. Yet, I knew it all to be true. I had been born in those times even if I didn’t remember them. My father and I had survived the initial blasts and fights, though we had lost my mother. My father was ex-military and had helped us set this base up, helped us survive. Then he went on a mission one day and never came back. I was ten. That’s when the library, the books that told of my father’s time, became my solace. Over time, I had become our little colony’s historian, our record keeper, our researcher. Alana the Wise was my nickname. I didn’t feel wise. My research meant nothing. The past could not help us. I could not help us. Did you like the above? If so, I hear tell you can snag this for yourself on Amazon. I make no secret that I carry another pen name around for my more...romantic urges. While I occasionally draw dicks on those pairings, in recent years I've come to terms with my LGBQT identity and have penned F/F pairings more exclusively. I've come to terms with the fact I enjoy writing those character types more, and have decided to endeavor writing only stories with gay leads. For both pen names. This pleases me, and thus I shall make it so.
Yes, Love Me Darkly, features quit a bit of M/F eroticism, but I think that shall be my only foray into such things. Wait until you meet Jaxx and Cossondra in Feral! They're to die for... Step one of my take-over is complete. Not only did I finish a full-length novel, but I managed to find a publisher for it. Feral is scheduled to release on April 30th, 2021 and I couldn't be more excited. Finally, my darker scribbles are on par with that of the romantic personality's musings. My horror rates notice and I hope to have a long relationship with Primal Publishing.
Edits for the book came, and I'm on task to complete them shortly. Hopefully, I'll get to parade cover art for everyone soon enough. Until then, take heart, Weavers. My pack of monstrous creatures can't wait to meat...I mean meet you. They say the road to Hell is paved with good intentions. So true... We damn ourselves sometimes by our own expectations, roiling in agony when these self-imposed restrictions or hoops are failed. For every moment I spend on one pen name, the other slides, and to find a balance is almost impossible at times. Would that I could write as fast as the stories come to mind. That the details fall from my fingers and the sentences twist themselves until they compose a visual symphony that pulls a reader in, kicking and screaming.
A year it took my alter ego to complete the novel toiled on for the romance fans. The fans that emailed and begged, asking, "Now? Is it ready now?" And their reception of the book has yet to fade into a dull roar in the background, claimed by time. Instead, they clamor for more while the killer in me issues sidelong glances at my own list of titles I've yet to throw at the mercy of the masses. As always, it's a battle of the bitches. Will I win or will she? So far, money talks, and she has the upper hand. How do I turn the tide to my favor? Or at least make myself fall on equal footing? One must ponder this, and do what I do best. Scrape away in the darkness until one day, I reveal my next move. Don't scream, Reader. And whatever you do, don't look away. The Apocalyptia Series is coming along nicely. Book 2, War, is scheduled to release June 28th, 2019 and is already up for pre-order. Pestilence waits patiently in the background, feeding me her story with whispers and nightmares. I expect to have her waltzing out around the end of August. Let's not forget Death, who will reveal herself come October. Fitting, eh? After that? Well, let's hope these girls don't bring about the end of the world so we can see.
Fuck Valentine's Day
Join Sirens, Vampires, Demons, Fae Lords, and other creatures in this delicious anthology of dark desires and deadly encounters. Love Me Darkly features horror with an erotic twist. I've spent the past few months continuing to wrestle with myself. After several tarot card readings (that all said, "Make a fucking decision and let's go!") and moving across the country, I'm ready to commit. In February, my first book will release. I've recruited a great group of Dark Sisters so we can provide each other a support system...and to put a boot up each other's ass. I created a publishing schedule for 2019 that is ambitious. Ambitious is exactly what I need to spur myself on.
In February, Love Me Darkly will release. After that, I'm unleashing the horses of the apocalypse upon you all. I'm very excited to let you meet the women, horses, and creatures of this dystopian world. Until then, Vesper Take a risk, and possibly reap great rewards, but give up progress on the proven route. This is my struggle. Every time I suffer the desire to write, I'm torn. Work on and finally finish a Vesper story, or keep writing romance. I recently released a story that sold more than I experienced in sales the entire span of last year. It exhilarated me.
It terrified me. I like romance just fine. I curl up with them as often as I do horror, fantasy, sci-fi, etc. But I don't live and breathe romance, just as it's not the only thing I read. I wouldn't want to be stuck reading one genre, so why do I feel like I'm perpetually holding a gun to my head if I spend time focusing on writing something different than romance? All I know is that I keep jotting down first chapters for both my pen names, then grow so caught up in the debate that I give myself terminal writer's block. Something needs to give. Perhaps, I need to pull that trigger and see what lies in the aftermath. Maybe, just maybe, the beast that rises from the ashes will take me places I've only ever dreamed of. I've reached over 30k on my attempt at a horror novel. At first, when I started writing this, I worried that my stint as a horror/thriller novelist would be a one-shot wonder. After all, I'm more known for my work as a romance writer. But it seems opening up the well to these darker things created a permanent door. Since starting on Dying Game, I've suffered from ideas for a few other novels.
It's slow going, working on a story for a second pen name, but I'll get this done and hope to get it in order by Halloween. Pending on my final word count, I'll decide then whether to self-publish it, or to submit it to a few places. We shall see. |