From the upcoming third novel in the Bellocaro Saga... Fangenstein

Exclusive excerpt:

Thatcher was meeting with Eleanor, Blair was mediating their chat. Alton, Wes and Chase Blue were hunting for Brighton. And me? I was stuck at home, wondering how this all was going to work itself out and where would my place be once the dust had settled.

“Man, I hate waiting, especially when the stakes were so high,” I mumbled to myself lifting the lid to the trashcan in the backyard. Releasing the knotted drawstring, I dropped the full plastic bag inside. After cleaning up the house, I’d turned my attention to removing the old food from the refrigerator. It made sense to throw out the food that Mom liked, especially if I didn’t. It wasn’t like she’d want it when she returned home.

I sucked in a breath, appreciating the fresh scent of the warm afternoon, and exhaled. Now, I had nothing left to do with my day. Bummer.

Why did Mom have to be so pigheaded about Thatcher? Why couldn’t she just forgive me and get over it? It occurred to me at that moment that I wasn’t a very high-minded sort of girl that perhaps I’d thought myself to be. There were times, like right now, when I could be quite mean-spirited and selfish.

My bout of self-reflection was interrupted by the sound of movement in the trees at the edge of the yard.  I turned to study them. The branches didn’t seem to be moving. Had Alton returned? Had he found Brighton? It didn’t make sense that he would hesitate to enter the yard.

I moved forward toward the line of trees. “Alton? You there?” I called.

There was no response.

Was it Thatcher? I thought with a tentative burst of joy that ricocheted inside me. Had he slipped away to see me despite Mom’s demand that he not? My footsteps quickened.

Suddenly I was aware of a presence behind me. Someone had stepped out from the trees to my left and gotten between me and the house. I whirled around expecting to see the beautiful face of the vampire that I loved. But the afternoon sun was sinking low in the sky, and I couldn’t see the face of the man who stood there but I knew it wasn’t Thatcher.

The black silhouette of a man wasn’t as tall or thin as my vampire boyfriend. I caught movement at the corner of my eye, the branches of an arborvitae tree swayed back into place, revealing the exact spot where the man must have been hiding.

“Who are you?” I demanded. “What are you doing in my yard?” The fine hairs on the back of my neck were standing on end, and that burst of inner joy was replaced with a rapidly accelerating heartbeat. I tried not to show my fear.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle ya Miss,” the man drawled in a southern accent, glancing around the yard. “I’m looking for my son’s dog. He’s actually just a puppy really.” The faceless man shook his head in dismay, taking a step toward the deck at the back of the house. “The boy left the back gate open, and the dog got out. My son’s beside himself.”

I inhaled through my nose again and exhaled, urging my fluctuating pulse to settle down. My heartbeat was loud enough that I could hear it in my ears.

The man seemed harmless enough. He turned his back on me, clearly looking around the house as if the missing puppy might be holed up under the deck. 

I rather doubted that. I certainly would have heard a dog scratching around under there and said so. “I haven’t seen him.”

The black form swung his head back in my direction. “Didn’t mean to intrude… perhaps somebody else in the house might have spotted him?” he asked with a hopeful note in his voice.

“No, it’s just me,” I explained. “And I’ve been here all day. He’s not here.” I realized my mistake as soon as I’d spoken, I shouldn’t have confirmed that I was alone. Alarm bells were ringing loudly in my head. I looked around for an escape. Behind the trees was a tall fence, which I doubted I could climb over before the stranger caught up to me, even if I managed to get to it.

The stranger began moving toward me, I blinked, trying to get a better look at him. My eyes were watering against the brightness of the sun.

He drew closer and I could make out details about his appearance. He was taller than me but definitely not that tall, maybe 5-foot-10, if I had to guess and chunky around the middle. Dark hair fell across his narrow forehead, reaching down to hazel eyes which peered out over a broad nose. And there was a pungent aroma about him; dried sweat mingled with something else that I couldn’t quite place.

I tried not to wrinkle my nose.

His full lips pulled in momentarily and then relaxed.

He was close enough now that I noticed the tell-tell bite mark on the side of his neck where a pair of fangs had pierced the skin. But the bead of sweat trailing down the side of his face suggested that he was still human. A vampire had fed on the man, not enough to kill or turn him. I found that fact slightly reassuring. The odds against me successfully evading a vampire alone were slim, but a human man, even one who had me cornered in the backyard, seemed considerably higher.

“Stop right there!” I commanded, putting on a bold expression. “You better not come any closer.”

It worked, he stopped moving. His mouth opened briefly in uncertainty, as the hazel eyes glanced around the immediate area, confirming that we were indeed alone. Did he expect someone to suddenly materialize in the yard?  I pondered in irritation.

The man was so close, he could have reached out one of his long arms and grabbed mine. One side of his mouth twisted down, seeing no rescuers imminent, his attention returned to me.

“Don’t think you can order me around,” he drawled with more swagger. Gone was any trace of his earlier attempt to appear courteous. “You’ll be coming with me and make no fuss about it.”

        Artwork for the new book!

I'm probably going to catch a bit of flack for this, but here it is:

Now that I have your attention. 

You'll find that I'm much nicer to the beautiful vampires who populate this story. I'll be posting an excerpt soon. And here's an important reminder: Bellocaro will be released in November 2020, so the countdown is on!

Inspo ...Comes from many places.

I think most authors from time to time get asked about their inspiration for stories and how they do their research, myself included.
I recently got a question from a reader whose intention may have been the former while she wrote about the latter, asking me where I did my research about: what souls look like and how to alter them ???
    After I stopped chuckling (several minutes later) I started thinking about the nature of inspo. While the description of the soul is fiction in my novels, I did honestly put a lot of thought into it. More than the standard walking around the house mumbling to myself. And yes, I did do some um, ur, research...yes research...corresponding with theologians. Picking their brains for ideas. The general consensus being that the human spirit or soul is not something deemed tangible in as much as it is the presence of life to which the physical body plays host.
     But IF it did exist to the extent that it's visible and therefore describable -- it might have an amorphous form like vapor, liquid or light. With those options in mind, I made a conscious decision to have it resemble pure white light.

Altering it?
    Here I found that I was in virgin territory. There is no expert to consult. A soul is a soul, neither good nor bad. Now a person can change or alter their habits, their appearance, even their beliefs. Does that impact the nature of the soul itself? No one can say for sure.
    I got to thinking about pure white light again or rather the choices available for transforming it. Lighting techs use filters, gels, skims and intensity to change the tone and complexion of light on a movie set.  I couldn't envision a Paragon doing this since some of these devices are cumbersome and wouldn't fit in one's pocket.
    In a sense Paragons are ageless craftsmen and very dedicated to their duty. As many will see in the later volumes, the process of becoming a Paragon is not an easy one. Think molten lava.
    With that in mind, I did examine metallurgy and discovered iron ore is extracted and processed. While interesting it wasn't quite on par with my ideas for a Paragon's skill set.
   The light bulb went off when I was moving a sterling silver tea set that I inherited from my grandmother. Turning the tray over I saw the old hallmarks, well-worn from time and use, as to be almost smooth. I thought about the lost art of the silversmiths and how using hand tools they fashioned such beautiful pieces leaving their signatures with unique symbols and marks. Suddenly I saw in my mind exactly how Wicus would be adjusting a soul. Hence the stardust chisel and mallet of light -- tools of the trade for any Paragon.
    So I have to thank my late grandmother's love of vintage silverplate and hollowware for helping me devise a method for altering souls. Like the second verse of the old nursery rhyme says...that little teapot was clever indeed.
  Happy Reading,

P.S. Meraux

Why A Luminary?

     I get asked that question quite a lot. Some have even asked, "Why would a grown woman want to animate a candelabra for a non-kids book?"

    Well to answer that properly, I have to go back a ways to let you know something about me.  As a little girl, I used to believe that flowers whispered their stories and wishes to the bees, who in turn carried them aloft on the breeze. That was the rationale my six-year-old self had for the bees seemingly endless contact with the roses in our garden. So I guess a part of me has always pondered the possibility that there's more sentient life around us than meets the eye.

     Since I've spoken about the dream that I had involving the immortal, the witch and the candelabra -- most of my readers know about that spark of inspiration. But Waxine represents more than just the dream image. She and the other Luminaries embody an added level of diversity in the confluence of worlds that serve as the settings for these stories. 

     I write about soul mates, Paragons, witches, psychics, shapeshifters, vampires, immortals and werewolves...with such a variety of characters, the question isn't, "Why a Luminary?" To me, it's "Why Not?"

     Readers know that while the Luminary Saga focuses on an extra special human, Emily Wren, plenty of other soul mate matches are made throughout the books.  Call me a hopeful romantic. Embracing the concepts of soul mates in all their rich variation doesn't require much imagination. Every person has a soul mate, no matter their race, creed, color, religion or gender. All people have the right to happiness and love.

    What happens when they find them? 

     I like to think of them as sitting in a romantic bistro, gazing into each other's eyes. It's the kind of place where there's a seat at the table for everyone. All falling in love due to the careful orchestrations of a Paragon and a sarcastic, sentimental, smart-mouthed candelabra -- who lets him think that he's in charge. 

Happy Reading,

P.S. Meraux 

To Kill Or Not To Kill... A Character?

It’s a tricky predicament for a novelist. Having created many characters that readers genuinely seem to like and in some cases adore, I put a lot of thought into when I have to “off” someone.

Is it right for the plot?
Does it help the protagonist in a major way move forward?
Will there be repercussions?
How will I allow the protagonist to deal with it?
Become more vulnerable or less?
Be vengeful and develop new mad skills or go on a downward spiral?

These are just some of the issues that I deal with when contemplating such scholarly homicide.

Each aspect is mentally weighed and measured, to make sure that story is compelling and adds to the overall novel. As these questions and a host of others are eventually sorted through, I am left with the end result.

Somebody has got to go.

I send out the type-set hit squad and that’s it, the end. The fictional population is down by one.

I’ve gotten a few questions, about some of the people that I've given the ax to in my novels, from readers who didn’t want them to die. Requesting a literary resurrection, if you will.

I understand your attachment, perhaps better than you realize. While you have read and gotten to know them in adventure after adventure... some readers identify with the characters like they would a friend -- I gave birth to them, at least artistically speaking. I know what they look like, how they sound and  when they’re happy or horrified. And ultimately, I’m with them, in their heads in many cases writing their thoughts, as they draw their last breath.

Killing a character is never easy.

Fortunately, my characters reside in a magical landscape where anything is possible, and while I don’t guarantee that someone I have killed off will suddenly reappear in the pages of one of my future books -- sometimes characters are too damn stubborn to stay dead and find a way back.

Such is life in a supernatural universe.

Happy Reading,

P.S. Meraux 

The creative process...

     A number of people have been asking me about my 'process' for writing a top young adult fiction book series, as if I have a mysterious or scientific approach for creating a new novel or characters or settings. In truth, I don't rightly think I do.
    When I started out the Luminary Saga book series, I outlined the general actions, goals, problems and circumstances of each book and knew the core characters that would be inhabiting the worlds that I was creating...other than that, I allowed each story to unfold more organically.
     I had a number of plates spinning in the air simultaneously and didn't want to force the appearance of any particular paranormal species. Especially when tackling subject matter that involves finding a soul mate, psychic abilities, witches, warlocks, vampires, werewolves and an odd shapeshifter or two. Not to mention constructing two new races; the super immortal, Paragons, and the Luminaries. Then tying it all together in this epic, coming of age love story.
     I think when anyone is approaching such an endeavor, whether it's to create one of the best young adult paranormal romance novels that you can find online or in print  -- or one of the best science fiction and fantasy novels or ebooks, (I've been told that I'm in the wrong genre) allow yourself some wiggle room. Otherwise the chaffing can be intense.
     That said, I am a chronic note maker. I never know when inspiration is gonna strike. It shows in the files that I keep. I have (or had) a folder chock full of notes for each book.
     Ideas jotted down for this chapter or the next -- on cocktail napkins, envelopes, post-its, notebooks, appointment cards, receipts, even discarded calendar pages (yes, sometimes I get a little ridiculous about it) Case in point, check out the folder that I have for Flare, the seventh book in the Luminary Saga...on the right in the photo.

     Just for visual reference, I placed a book beside it. As you can see, I probably have too many schemes in mind for it to be a short novel. Knowing that has caused me considerable worry as there were other chapters that I culled from earlier volumes, thinking that it would help build suspense if they were added later. None of those chapters are actually in the above folder.
     And to be clear, from the outline that I currently have for Flare... there's no place for them. Rather than chuck the homeless chapters, I decided to reintegrate them into their earlier novels. But even that isn't as simple as it sounds. Other details have to be added here and there in subsequent chapters to make it all flow. Cohesion is a big part of it. Think of it as something to chat about during your next book club.
     Hopefully when I'm done, it will add rather than detract from the stories. Giving you more background into the lives of the characters. Either way, I'm positive that readers will give me their feedback. Which by the way, I honestly do appreciative.
     Of course all of this is driving my editor a little nuts, as it means that Flare's arrival may be pushed back.