Advent Calendar Day 3

Happy Third of December! Are you out holiday shopping even as we speak?

Maybe I can simplify that a bit for you.

Today I'm giving away five signed copies of paperback books--which I'll inscribe with a suitable holiday greeting to the loved one of your choice, and then frantically ship off in an attempt to reach them before the holiday (depending on which holiday you're celebrating).

The book is The Curse of the Blue Scarab and it's kind of...kooky. Well, it's VERY kooky. It's 90,000 words of goofy Edwardian mystery and romance, which is actually kind of perfect for holiday reading when you just want to lose yourself in another world. A world with fine china, crisp linens,vengeful Egyptian priestesses and a handsome, imperiled hero whose only hope of rescue is a curmudgeonly doctor with *cough* unnatural desires.

Something like that.

A copy of The Curse of the Blue Scarab will be awarded to five randomly selected commenters below who share their favorite holiday (or other) cocktail recipe.

In order to have a chance in Hades of getting these books out in time, I will select the winners on Monday, so don't dally.

And because if you ARE holiday shopping today, I know you already need a drink, let me share my current absolute favorite martini. It's called a Black Orchid and it is rather delightful.

BLACK ORCHID

1 oz Raspberry Vodka

1 oz Blue Curacao

1 oz Watermelon Pucker

a big splash of cranberry juice

Strain over ice and pour into your martini glass 

Ducks in a Row

I had to recheck that title a couple of times lest there be an unfortunate (but not entirely inaccurate) typo. Somehow I managed to rub some kind of lotion or oil in my eyes this morning and my vision is infuriatingly blurry. I've tried rinsing my eyes, eye drops, etc. but...the blurriness persists. I said DUCKS, right?


I was going to discuss...well, it doesn't matter. I'm going to settle for a quickish update on what you can expect to see from me over the next few months.


I'm currently working on Fair Chance, the final book in the All's Fair trilogy (and on Wednesday I'll be blogging a bit more on the pressures of wrapping up a mini-series over at Not Your Usual Suspects)  but that's not due out until next March or so.


What is coming out this year?


First up is Murder Between the Pages. It's...nutty. It's a post World War 2 bit of kooky amateur sleuthing by two rival mystery writers.

Felix Day, author of the Constantine Sphinx mysteries, and Leonard Fuller, author of the Inspector Fez mysteries, are bitter rivals and the best of enemies. Both happen to be present when a notorious author of roman à clef is shot by an invisible assailant during a signing at historic Marlborough Bookstore.

Even if they weren’t both suspects, it’s the perfect opportunity to match wits and sleuthing skills.

If only the murderer was equally amused.


Here's a snippet from Chapter Two...

The bell jingled as Harp yanked open the door and breezed out, and to my astonishment, Day let him leave without so much as a peep.

“What the hell?” I said as I reached him. “You let him go?”

Day seemed almost distracted as he replied, “He’s with the police.”

“Are you kidding me? That’s the oldest trick in the book!” I grabbed the door handle--and Day grabbed my arm with bony but surprisingly strong fingers.

He was scowling--which is his usual expression with me--and I scowled back.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” he said.

“If you don’t want a punch in the nose, let go my arm,” I warned him.

“Just try it.” Day's black eyes were narrow and hostile. Again, perfectly normal for him. “Where were you when that shot went off?”

“Me?” I gaped at him. “That shot came from the back of the room. As you very well know.”

“I don’t know any such thing.”

“Where were you? That’s the question.”

His eyes blazed. “Had I been planning to shoot anyone today, it wouldn’t have been Josiah Shelton.”

“Oh, very nice!” I retorted. “Well, maybe you missed and shot Shelton by mistake.”

“I don’t miss.”

“That’s not what the critics say.”

Day’s face turned a nice healthy red.

This is my Kindle Unlimited experiment, which I consider to be something of a disaster already. By now I would typically have about 2000 preorders. Instead we're looking at a very scary and unsustainable 700ish. But I'm locked in and anyway this all started because I'm so tired of so many writers insisting the only way they can make money is through KU, so the experiment shall continue. And I'll be honest about the results, biased though I am. I mean, what's the point of an experiment if you're not going to really look at what's in the test tube?

So there's that. And then there's The Curse of the Blue Scarab, which is even kookier. But I'vealready chatted about that one (which, if you missed, you can read about  here). I haven't listed it for preorders yet on Amazon, but probably in the next day or so.

And then we've got the much anticipated (or maybe just long delayed)  Adrien English holiday novella. So This is Christmas. If you're on my mailing list, you got a teeny sneak peek at that. It's also available for preorder, though again not yet at Amazon. 

No cover yet because it's one of the projects in the on-going cover contest -- deadline fast approaching!!!

And then lastly we have the final release of 2016: Christmas Waltz, the second collection of holiday codas. Like the first collection the existing codas have been edited and expanded. And of course there will be several new codas as well as some other bits and bobs.

Not my most productive writing year, I agree. But definitely some interesting stuff (or at least, I hope you'll think so too).

Next year... well, the plan next year is to finish off a lot of these long promised titles, particularly the sequels and series. So it should be fairly busy.

But why worry today about what we can worry about even more tomorrow?

We're in the process of doing a major updating of my website, so if you're wondering about the fate of a particular title, you can always check in there. It's quite a study in optimism and my faith in the power of positive thinking. ;-)

He did the mash, he did the monster mash...

I mentioned in an earlier post that I'm working on this crazy extra project called The Curse of the Blue Scarab. I call it my "monster mash-up," because that's what it is. It's a literary mash-up of a 1912 horror novel called The Mummy by Riccardo Stephens.


Now you may be wondering what the heck is a literary mash-up?


And here's Wikipedia to explain it:


A mash-up novel (also called "mashup" or "mashed-up novel"), is a work of fiction which combines a pre-existing literature text, often a classic work of fiction, with another genre, such as horror genre into a single narrative. Marjorie Kehe of the Christian Science Monitor renders this admixture of classic text as "somewhere between 60 and 85 percent original text, with new plot twists added by contemporary co-authors". These "twists" often include horror fiction elements like vampires, werewolves or zombies.


That's pretty much it in a nut-shell. However a key point is that these works are almost always works that have fallen into public domain. Meaning, they are no longer under copyright.


Now given that in my case the book is already about a mummy, you might wonder what it is I'm bringing to the mix besides a male/male romance? Well...time will tell.


How on earth does it work? Sometimes better than others.


But, for example, here's the original opening bit of The Mummy.


I was sitting at breakfast one February morning, about nine o’clock, two years ago, with Mudge, my servant, ex-sergeant of Marines, at my back telling some yarn about what he said he had done at Ladysmith.

Though 1 live in the West End, it is only in a little flat over a grocer’s shop, in a small side-street off Piccadilly, where my patients are principally the servants (and principally the men- servants—butlers, coachmen and such-like) from the big houses and clubs.


A couple of news-boys began yelling something through the morning fog, about exclusive information and special edition of the Daily Tale. I knew nothing would satisfy Mudge till he got a copy. So I sent him out.

Presently the outer door was pushed open, and a man's voice asked loudly whether the doctor was in.

“Second door right-hand side of lobby,” 1 shouted, and the man was in before I could swallow another mouthful.






And here is a rough idea of the opening of The Curse of the Blue Scarab.

I remember the fog was particularly thick that February morning.

Pressing its formless face to the steamy window panes, grey and dreary as a specter, it crept down the chimney, dripping and hissing onto the smoking logs.

Drip. Hiss. Drip. Hiss.

An otherwise unremarkable start to the day that was to change my life forever.

Bird, my servant, an ex-sergeant of Marines, was spinning some lengthy and involved yarn about his exploits at Ladysmith while I attempted to read my magazine and finish my breakfast before the business of the day began.

“Those were weary hours. Lying on that hill while the bullets hailed down on us. I can still hear ‘em cutting through the air and clacking on the rocks. You couldn’t hear yourself think...”

“One can only imagine,” I murmured.

My name is Armiston. I’m a physician living and working in the West End. This sounds grander than the reality which is a little flat over a grocer’s shop in a small side-street off Piccadilly. My patients are principally the servants (and principally the men-servants—butlers, coachmen and such) from the big houses and clubs.

“Nine hours we clung to that pile of stones. Cartridges dwindling and men dying. I can tell you hope was fading…”

“I feel as though I’m there beside you.” I turned the page of the magazine, studying the dubious claims in the advertisement for Madam Harper’s hair tonic.

In the street below a couple of news-boys began yelling about exciting information  exclusive to the special edition of the Daily Tale. I knew nothing would satisfy Bird till he got a copy. So I sent him out.

Drip. Hiss. Drip. Hiss.

Presently the outer door was flung open, and a man’s voice demanded whether the doctor was in.

“Second door right-hand side of lobby,” I shouted, and the man was in before I could swallow another mouthful.

It's the same and yet... It is transformed into something new. And hopefully amusing.




This is my relaxation in between working on FAIR CHANCE, the final book in the All's Fair trilogy. That one's turning out to be a rather tense book, so mummies and supernatural goings-on are kind of a relief!