How much of me is in what I write? - the #evernighties

 Today's #evernighties blog prompt is "How much of me is in what I write".

All. Blood heart and soul. That’s the short answer.

The long answer is that I always pour a lot of my personal feeling and experience into my characters and stories. It would be hard to know where to start. My novel Spellbreakers (which is on sale at 0.99$ at the moment, just saying) is a long slow foot and horse trip across Europe, and large bits of that were inspired by my own 5000 km trek from Germany to Catalonia via Brittany in 2009/10.

Two of my characters (Ivory in Black Carnival and Gillian in The Nymph in the Stolen Garden) are apparently tame, shy plants-women with a wild side. I did work as a gardener, and like Ivory I did spend a preposterous amount of time making botanical illustrations and drawing up garden plans, when I would have much preferred to hire a model and draw nudes.

In Head Shy there is a traumatized mare that is slowly brought back to working condition and a more trusting frame of mind. Much of that comes from my experience with my own Haflinger mare, Kaylee.

But I certainly poured most of me in my more recent books especially in my loosely interconnected Transgender Trilogy. Nina from Woman as a Foreign Language is a strongly autobiographical character. Her traumatic past, her metal-work, her let us say, almost accidental gender-queerness, even her passion for myths and fairy tales, are all me.

In Spice & Vanilla there is a bit of me in Di, and a bit in Hugh. 

My passion for ancient sailing ships definitely shines through in In the Eye of the Wind (coming tomorrow!!)

And Nathaniel in A Muse to Live For (coming soon!), is definitely very much my alter ego in the way he feels about his art, his muse and inspiration. 

Perhaps it makes me a pathologically self-centered kind of person, but I find it very difficult to write characters that are entirely “other” from me. For example writing truly assertive, confident heroes is not something that comes at all natural to me, and I wonder how convincing they are when I actually do write them, although it is always fun to try.

There is a strong elemental streak in all my writings, earth and air and fire, light and darkness. In almost all my stories there tend to be an earthy, subfusc, usually short lover, and a taller, more luminous, airy-fiery one. 

Almost all the earth people in my books are me.

My first memory #evernighties

When I was 7 years old something really traumatic happened to me, and I remember nothing of my life before that. Even the years after are just a chaotic mess of blurs and odd flashes. I am not even sure I have what one could call real childhood memories, at least not many, and certainly not very coherent.

But the few things that stand vividly out in my memory are all art related. I remember drawing a heard of cows and the delight I felt when I got a cow with her head turned up to mooo exactly right. It was something about the shape of the muzzle, and the way the neck aligned with the head.

I don’t remember breaking my right arm, but I do remember the German Shepherd dog standing by his dog house that I drew *with my left hand* because my right one was all done up in plaster.

And I remember the wondrous discovery (I must have been nine or so, I think) that the sky is not a thin line of blue at the top, but that the blue goes all the way down to the tree-tops. When I shared this amazing this discovery with my then best friend, Francesca, also a talented artist, we lay hands on all blue markers in the classroom and made this huge drawing (huge for us at least… I think it was an A3 sheet) with all manners of animals and grass and trees, and above that, everything was coloured blue.

I was very amused when I read the same observation years later in a book by Terry Pratchett.

I used to draw all the time. I made stories in my head, and scrawled sketches on any odd bit of paper, like a sort of scattered, fragmented comic book. But I never drew another cow, as far as I know, and I forgot how to draw with my left hand as soon as my right was healed, which is a pity, since I broke my right arm once more twenty-five years later.

New Release - Raven McCallan - Temptation

Very happy to host Raven McAllan today with her exciting new release, Temptation, which is the first installment of a new series, Isola dei Sogni. A big hello and cheer please for this lovely lady and great friend!! Please remember that if you buy any Evernight Book this week directly at Evernight.com all proceeds go to support our dear Doris O'Connor as she fights her very scary battle with cancer. SO even if you are usually an Amazon shopper, consider buying directly at Evernight for this week. New releases are always discounted too!


Thank you so much for offering to host me today.

I’m very excited about the fact Temptation the first book in my new series, Isola dei Sogni is now available from Evernight Publishing here

You can get it on Amazon, and from other eBook vendors as well.

Several years ago I had two short stories out about Isola dei Sogni, an island where dreams and fantasies come true if you let them. The rights reverted to me and I pondered until eventually, I lengthened the stories and sent them to Evernight.

Who, quite rightly decided book two Temptation would make a better book one. The other story Impulse is now book two and will be released in March.

(I hope that’s not confusing.)



So Temptation is ready to be read. I do hope if you decide to give it a go, you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I had a blast.

An island where dreams and fantasies come true?
Unheard of.
That’s what Meryl thought until someone showed her the brochure.
Dare she?
It was all well and good until the one person she didn’t want to see was there. Ready, willing and able to give her those fantasies.
Marloth couldn’t believe his eyes when the one lady he truly loved appeared on Isola Dei Sogni. Was this his second chance to prove his love for her?
Now he just had to get her to believe in him, and that they had a future together.
Being a shifter wasn’t going to help. He’d need all of his human skills to achieve his heart’s desire.

And a wee tease~

Three hours later, Meryl was replete, comfy, and ready to sleep. Next to her, Mia had settled down with her headphones on and was watching an old film with a grin on her face. Meryl stuck her head over the privacy screen. Johnny Depp in Chocolat. She smiled. Yeah, he’ll do. Mia gave her the thumbs up before she pulled the screen up, let her seat down into a bed, and covered herself with the blanket provided. Films could wait, but the inspection of the inside of her eyelids couldn’t.

The man who stroked her hair was everything anyone could want. Meryl looked at him and grinned.

“It was you.”

He smiled and nipped her earlobe with sharp white teeth. “Of course, who else? I’m always around. You’re mine and I’ll be wherever you are.”

Meryl sniggered, even though she felt like crying. “Liar, you might be in my dreams, but you aren’t always about. Hell, I’ve cried myself to sleep and you’ve not been there to hold my hand or wipe my tears.”

“Ah, love.” He cuddled her close and Meryl felt his heartbeat resonate through her. “I’m always there. You chose to ignore it. You are my life and with me, in me, at all times. I shouldn’t have stayed and I did. I shouldn’t have left like I did, but I had no options. Surely, you knew you just had to show me you needed me and I’d be with you? If not in person, in your dreams. Even when you’ve called me all the names no self-respecting person should know, let alone say.” He paused and rubbed her shoulder. “Just because I’m not on show, doesn’t mean I’m not here, not with you. Hold your hand out and let your heart feel me. You are mine, and even though you doubt it, it’s true.”

He ran his hand over her heart, and Meryl felt his heat burning into her. She melted as he kissed her, and his hand lifted her t-shirt and stroked her breast over the top of her bra. Her skin stung as arousal zipped through her and Meryl crossed her legs to stop the shivers of excitement she felt from being too obvious. She was on a plane, for heaven’s sake. Okay, she’d heard of the mile high club, but it was so not her. Was it?

He grinned, and tingles danced down her spine. “Ah, my lovely Meryl, just let yourself go. Purr for me.” He nipped and sucked her shoulder and at the same time moved his hand to creep under the top of her jeans and touch her clit. Meryl groaned at the sweet sting he gave her, even as she arched into his palm. His breath was warm on her neck. “Oh sweet, I’ve so missed touching you. Come for me now.” As he stroked and petted, it was the perfect feeling of love, care, and being needed.

She shook, and he drank her sighs and mewls of pleasure as his mouth covered hers in a long, lingering kiss. With a silent scream, she shattered. As she came down from one of the most exhilarating climaxes ever, his hands stroked her hair in a long soothing caress. If she were a cat, she’d purr.

Hold on. Cats? Purring? What the hell is going on? Her sleepy, sated state disappeared in a second.

Meryl opened her eyes. All thoughts of her climax disappeared as she saw where she was. Sheesh, did I really make myself come with a dream? Hell, I hope no one saw or heard me. She checked—the blanket still covered her.

There was no one around. The noise of the engines droned in the background, her video screen showed static, and the lights were dimmed. Next to her, Mia was now fast asleep and most of the other passengers were in the same state. Nowhere could she see that golden-haired man with the amber eyes.

Worried, she made her way to the loo and stared in the mirror. There on her shoulder was a deep red mark.

*****

Happy reading,

Love Raven x

Favourite thing I’ve written and why #evernighties

Dear readers, the Evernight Authors have banded up for a year-long blog challenge, with a new prompt every Thursday meant to encourage our tired brains to post more creative and interesting content (or so we hope). So here I go with my first post, and it's a whopper, if I say so myself.

I am always utterly in love with whatever I write. I cannot write in a lukewarm, premeditated, mechanical way. But my favourite things are certainly Woman as a Foreign Language and A Muse to Live For.

Having to choose, I will go with Muse. Both of these two stories belong to my loosely interconnected transgender trilogy (Spice & Vanilla being the middle book), and both have a strong autobiographical streak, but whereas WaaFL’s main character, Nina, is based on a much younger version of me, Nathaniel, the hero in A Muse to Live For is an alter ego much closer to my present self, and he allowed me to put into words a whole scary lot of emotions that had nowhere else to go.

I have always been attached to the concept of “muse”, muse as a specific person, not muse as a disembodied, psychological state of creative fervour, because I always very much felt it on my skin.

A muse is different from an inspiration... you pick an actor or a model to give a face to a character, that happens all the time, and it can be wonderful, it can bring a character to life in ways you had not anticipated... but a muse you don't pick. It barges in your life when you least expect it and turns your vision upside down ... A muse brings you to places, creatively, that you had never imagined or suspected before.

It is mystery, and magic. It is wonderful, compulsive, and terrifying. Sometimes it's all you can do to hang on and hold it together, while your puny talents are used to try and express something much, much too big. Where does it come from? I do not know. It is a power not of this world, and when it leaves, it leaves you in pieces.

It makes me laugh to read the “experts” saying "there is no muse, only habit". Poor bloodless saps, if only they knew.

Having been thoroughly “mused” in the last eighteen months, and having gone through the most intensely creative period of my life after four years of writer (and painter) block, I felt this topic to be especially poignant.

I wanted to write about the fearsome, transforming magic of true inspiration, the powerful and entangled feelings and flows of energy that bind an artist to their muse, and the devastating depression that can result from the loss of all this.  How to describe a relationship that includes elements of love, obsession, and a sort of mystical reverence, but also a kind of fear, and a harrowing sense of dependence? Because if an artist is not creating they become an irrelevant person. They might as well not exist.

And how to convey the astonishing disconnect between an artist’s perception of their muse as something noble, pure, almost supernatural, and the everyday, down-to earth, flawed, fragile human reality of the person who, for some mysterious reason, carries this inexplicable power of inspiration, and is often as puzzled as they are flattered by the artist’s fascination?

And how to morph all this creative/destructive power into the deliriously wondrous ever-after that such energy can fuel, once released?

The choice to base the book in Victorian times was partly due to the fact that I wanted my artist to be innocent of the revolting cynicism brought to poetry, art and literature by Freud and his minions. But I also specifically wanted to write a Pre Raphaelite, if not one of the original Brotherhood, at least an associate of the second Pre Raphaelite movement. I have a veneration for Dante Gabriel Rossetti, who also, undoubtedly, knew the power of a true muse first hand. 

It was strange how many eerie coincidences kept cropping up between my characters’ story and Rossetti’s life, which I only researched more extensively while writing the book, culminating perhaps, with a line he wrote to his mistress and greatest inspiration, Jane Morris, when she was away in Germany, “…no one else seems alive at all to me now, and places that are empty of you, are empty of all life…”. When I discovered this, it gave me the queerest shiver, because I had used almost exactly the same words in my story, and because that is the absolute and terrifying truth of it all.

I do not know if a Muse to Live For is able to express all this in any coherent or intelligible way—there was so much emotion, and words can only do so much—and somehow wrap it into a beautiful, and believable love story. But I gave it my best shot, and such as it is, it is my most beloved story to date. It will be coming soon from Evernight.

New release - Maia Dylan - His to Protect

BLURB:

Kaea Hemopo was a man on a mission. He planned to kill the bastard who killed his grandmother, and nothing was going to stop him. He had the man lined up in his sights, his finger on the trigger, and was prepared to die to get it done, but then Kaea found out that he was following the wrong man.

Xavier Mulligan had been stalking his own prey the night he met his mate. He’d been shocked to discover that Kaea was not only there to kill him, but thought he was the asshole who’d murdered his own father. Xavier would just have to make his mate see him for what he was, and accept his very nature. How hard could that be?

Can Kaea and Xavier find a way to work together to avenge those who were taken from them, and retrieve that which was stolen from Kaea’s family, or will Xavier’s need for control be the one thing that could tear them both apart?

**M/M, anal penetration, erotic romance, paranormal, shape-shifter

 

HIS TO PROTECT – An Alpha’s Claim, 2

Series: An Alpha’s Claim

Purchase Links:

AMAZON UK:  http://amzn.eu/d/axxgQwl

AMAZON US:  https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07LGBCM7C

EVERNIGHT:  https://www.evernightpublishing.com/his-to-protect-by-maia-dylan/

BOOKSTRAND:  https://www.bookstrand.com/his-to-protect-mm

STORY EXCERPT:

Kaea moved a little beneath him, and Xavier had to bite back a groan as his hips nestled a little closer to his.

“Do you—wait, am I naked?” Kaea asked incredulously, and Xavier couldn’t hold back a grin.

“That you are, my lovely. You were damp and dirty from being out in the forest and trying to kill me. I couldn’t very well pop you into bed like that, now could I?”

Kaea frowned as he leaned slightly to the side and looked at Xavier lying on top of him. “And you’re naked because…”

“I was in the shower.” Xavier shrugged. “Again, not somewhere where clothes are necessarily all that helpful. I came out of the bathroom when you woke up. Didn’t have time to go throw any clothes on.”

Kaea nodded, and a delicious red heat swept over the dark skin of his cheeks. “That makes sense, but you could let me go, get up and throw some clothes on now that I no longer want to hurt you, right?”

“But I like it where I am. Do I gotta?” Xavier had never pouted in his life, but he tried in this moment just to have fun with his mate.

Kaea’s laughter was quick and genuine, and had Xavier’s heart doing strange somersaults inside him. “Yes, you do. Come on, it’s very distracting having you lying on top of me.”

Xavier grinned, and knew it was just as wicked as he felt. “I love that you find me distracting, love, because the feeling is most definitely mutual.” Kaea’s eyes darkened, and Xavier knew he liked that particular revelation. “But, you’re right. I’m hungry, and healing this gunshot wound I seemed to have acquired recently has taken a lot of energy.”

Xavier pushed up from the bed, and grinned when he watched Kaea’s gaze wander down his abdomen, but shot back to the puckered scar of the wound on his shoulder. “Crap. Did I apologize for shooting you?”

Xavier resettled the towel around his hips. “No, you did not, and that was very remiss of you. I’ll expect you to make that up to me very soon. Repeatedly.”

Kaea’s soft laughter followed him as he stepped toward the back of the room where he’d put his bag. He grabbed a pair of sweats and pulled them on under the towel, then dropped it to the floor. He turned back toward the bed and laughed himself when he saw Kaea up on his elbows as if to get a better view.

“See something you might like, love?”

Kaea grinned at him, and Xavier could have sworn he felt his heart stutter in his chest. “Maybe, but I’m not a man who gives all his secrets away when he’s just met a man. I prefer a slow build up to a quick flash that’s over too damn soon.” Xavier scowled. “What’s put that look on your face?”

“I don’t like to think of you with other men.” Xavier heard the possessiveness in his own tone, but wouldn’t apologize for it. He was a dominant Alpha bear, and one who did not play well with others. Kaea needed to know and understand that. “I don’t share. You’re mine.”

Kaea arched a sardonic brow in his direction, and it irritated and aroused him at the same time. “Yours?” Xavier could practically feel the temperature in the room fall. “I don’t remember ever being asked if I’d be yours, or even if I wanted you. You presume too much.”

Xavier growled, his anger rising within him. “It’s not a presumption when I could feel your fucking arousal just as sure as you could feel mine, Kaea.”

© MAIA DYLAN, EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING, 2018

  If you would like to post questions to Maia, you can do so on Twitter. Tag her using @MaiaDylanAuthor and she will answer them as she sees them.

 

ALL ABOUT MAIA DYLAN

Mother, wife, author, and all around crazy…

I write the kind of books that I love to read. Love stories between strong men and their independent soulmates. Usually, their path to Happily Ever After is a bumpy one, but there is always a Happy Ever After. 

In the world's I create there is someone (or two, or three) for everyone!  Love comes in many forms and I believe it is all beautiful and should be celebrated!

I live, love and write in New Zealand, married to my husband of fifteen years with two beautiful children who I truly believe were sent as a blessing, but sometimes to try my patience, and I wouldn't have it any other way!

Social Media Links

Publishers Author Page:  http://www.evernightpublishing.com/maia-dylan/

Amazon Authors Page US: http://amazon.com/author/maiadylan

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Street Team FB Page - https://www.facebook.com/groups/smestreetteam

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News! Join my Facebook Group!

I am tremendously happy and honored to announce that I have joined forces with Katerina Ross, my Evernight colleague, fellow artist extraordinaire, and very favourite Erotic Romance author of mine, to create our very own author and artist group on Facebook!
I could not have done it on my own. I'd have gotten myself in FB jail before even starting, and it's just much more fun to do this together!
Feel free to drop in if you want to join!
Sizzling explicit book excerpts and drawings of scantily clad models assured, so +18 members of robust, naughty constitution only.

Cheers, Kate & Kate

The Ross & Wyvern Notorious Book Club