The Next Big Thing Blop Hop: Bliss House

Oh, good! I've been tagged.

Welcome to the latest stop on The Next Big Thing Blog Hop. This particular blog tour invites writers to answer ten questions about their current Work in Progress, or forthcoming project. Each tagged writer answers the questions, then tags five or more writers to answer the questions on their blog, then they tag five more, and so on...It's a great way for readers and writers to find each other, don't you think?

First off, you'll want to get to know the amazing writer who tagged me. RT Book Reviews named J.T. Ellison's latest thriller, Edge of Black, a Top Pick, and called it her "best book yet." J.T. is a master (mistress!) of psychological suspense and her beautifully crafted stories are rich with emotional intensity. She's also incredibly prolific, having published nine books, several novellas and many, many short stories in the past five years. Thanks, J.T.!

Now, Bliss House. I've been working on it for quite a while, so I've posted about it, before. But here's an update:

1) What is the working title of your book(s)?

Bliss House

2) Where did the idea come from for the book?

I was working on an idea for another book, a thriller based on the folk tale, Hansel and Gretl. As I was working on the plot, I found myself deeply fascinated by the house in which the children were being held. I realized that the house was the source of many, many dark stories, and the haunting of Rainey Adams and her daughter, Jillian, is just the first.

3) What genre does your book fall under?

Supernatural suspense.

4) Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie version?

Ali Larter and Elle Fanning as Rainey and Jillian (mother and daughter); Eddie Cibrian, with Amy Adams as his wife. John Malkovich as The Judge.

5) What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book?

Mother and daughter, burn victim, mourning, guilt, new home, old mansion, troubled past, mystery, sudden death, ghost dad, secret rooms, suspicion, murder, skeletons, secret passages, betrayal, redemption and forgiveness, the end.

(Okay, I know. That's technically a fragment.)

6) Is your book self-published, published by an independent publisher, or represented by an agency?

My wonderful agent, Susan Raihofer, of the David Black Literary Agency will represent the book. I'm in the final pre-submission editing stage now.

7) How long did it take to write the first draft of your manuscript?

The draft of Bliss House has taken me over two years to write. While working on it, I also published Devil's Oven, re-issued Isabella Moon, and Calling Mr. Lonely Hearts as ebooks, published a few short stories, and edited Surreal South '11, and Feeding Kate, two fiction anthologies.

8) What other books would you compare this story to within your genre?

Anyone who has read my other supernatural books will find much to like in Bliss House. Susan Hill, F.G. Cottam, Alexandra Sokoloff (my favorite!) and Joe Hill also write about fictional hauntings. And just when I thought I had a perfectly brilliant, original idea to do a series of novels set in a single, demented house, I found that uber-horror writer Douglas Clegg did it, first! I haven't read his Harrow House series, but I admire his other work.

9) Who or what inspired you to write this book?

I've long wanted to write a haunted house story in the tradition of Shirley Jackson's classic novel, The Haunting of Hill House. There's more, but if I write about it now, I fear I'll give away the whole story.

10) What else about your book might pique a reader's interest?

Bliss House is not just the story of a house, but of a woman and her daughter trying to rediscover their love for one another against a background of life-changing tragedy. And, it's set in Virginia. Virginia has a place in my heart, and I hope to impart some of my love for it to every reader.

The next writers on the hop are...

Amanda Stevens
Maggie Caldwell
Terri Kirby Erickson

Next Wednesday, January 15th, these writers will post about their own Next Big Things.

Oops, I only have three writers to link to. I'm supposed to have five, but I asked many writers who had either already participated, or were on a blogging hiatus. When I have more to link to, I'll come back and post their names.

Thanks for dropping by!

The Glitter is Over. Long Live the Glitter.

My son (not the one pictured above) started listening to Christmas carols back in September. That is not a typo. Yes. September. We told him that those songs were NOT ALLOWED until after Halloween, and then they could only be listened to in his room up until Thanksgiving. But thirteen year-old boys are notoriously unreliable in the obedience department. In mid-October, I walked in on him in his bedroom, and casually asked him what music was coming out of his iPad and into his precious little perfect eggshell ears. He stammered. He reddened. You would've thought I'd caught him listening to the Spice or Playboy channel on satellite radio, or, you know, looking at naughty pictures. Nope. It was  Paul McCartney blurting that horrifying excuse for a song, "Simply Having a Wonderful Christmas Time." I was ashamed for both of us.

In effect, there was Christmas at our house for three months this year. By Thanksgiving, I was threatening not to put up a Christmas tree. By mid-December, there was a family rule that if that particular McCartney song came on the radio, the Christmas music would be turned off for the rest of the day. The poor child nearly lost a hand several times when he jumped in the passenger seat of The Cutest Car in the World, and immediately started pushing buttons to track down Sirius Holly. Around the fifteenth, realizing that Christmas was going to come whether I was exhausted with it or not, I finally gave in and started my Christmas shopping. Finally, on December eighteenth, and against my better judgement, we put up the Christmas tree (two, actually, God help me), to a Christmas music soundtrack. With the help of my traditional Scotch on the rocks (the only one I drank in all of 2012, I'm sorry to say), I was finally in the spirit of the event. Santa and Baby Jesus showed up on time, and I hear the Wise Men will be here in a matter of days. All is right with the world--at least at our house, anyway. And the best part? Just like the local radio station, my son's love affair with Christmas carols was magically extinguished at 12 AM, December 26th. My own little Christmas miracle.

I secretly love that my son was enthusiastic about Christmas. He's a big drama fan, just like the rest of his family. And there's nothing more dramatic than a virgin birth and angels appearing in the sky and shouting at mere mortals. And a god in flesh appearing? Very cool. He's well-steeped in the scripture and tradition of the event. But I suspect his excitement really stems from the promise of two weeks of Christmas cookies and a bodacious pile of presents in wrapping paper he's never seen before. I'm no dummy. I confess to having been pretty goofy about the glittery parts of the Christmas season back in the day.

You know what I love about the Christmas season now? Staying home. Baking cookies. Eating cookies. Reading. Listening to the telephone not ring. Being able to lock our gate at night, knowing that we could leave it locked all the next day, and no one would care. Parties? There's a joke in our family that, if we're invited to a party, it must be a very big party. That's fine with us because we're happy to be cozy at home, playing with the dogs, serving the cat, taking pictures of the cat (and, sometimes, the dogs), reading, writing. I start a big needlepoint project every year, right after Christmas, and give myself the year to finish it.

Thanks to one of my besties, writer J.T. Ellison, I also spend much of the week between Christmas and New Year's Day reviewing the previous year, and setting goals for the next. It's hard to do that in a crowd. It takes quiet and concentration (a huge challenge for me), and no Internet distractions. I'm an all-or-nothing sort of person when it comes to social media. If I'm in it, I'm in it all day, and for much of the evening. If I'm away, I go through a period of withdrawal and temptation for a couple of days, and then I'm okay. I miss my friends! For an introvert, being friends with people online is ideal. We can all wear our radio faces and pajamas. We're comfy and secure and no one is the wiser. Maybe you didn't suspect this about me? Well, now you know. My daughter is into astrology these days and is prone to reminding me that I'm a Cancer and that Cancers are very home and hearth-centered.

If you're an introvert, or live with an introvert and want to understand them, I recommend the book, QUIET, by Susan Cain. I found it enlightening and rather comforting.

This past week has been a delicious one. We had two snow storms come through, which meant a lot of shoveling. But it also meant a lot of well-protected mental space. I'm as ready as I can be for the coming year. I have some manageable and challenging writing, publishing, and self-improvement goals set. A tidy two pound deficit in the weight loss journey I began back in October--and it was a huge pleasure indulging, I assure you. Lots of love and occasional trips out for food and coffee held the more destructive elements of cabin fever at bay. There's nowhere on the radio dial that's playing holiday music--or at least not where I can stumble across it, that is. Yes. All is right in my world.

Only, now, I have that damned McCartney song running through my head. Again. And it's my own fault.

Happy New Year!

A Spooky Start to October: A Buggy Short Story, Book Prizes, and a Sparkly New Ad

You know how I hate to send you away from here, but I've been busy at a couple of other places around town. The good news is that you can win goodies. Books, specifically. My books, very specifically!

The Horror Writers Association is doing an entire month of Halloween blogs. Halloween Haunts kicked off on the 1st and continues through the 31st. October 2nd, I wrote about terrifying a sweet young boy at my daughter Opera Poodle's first Halloween party. (Yes, there are days when I am the worst mother, ever.)  Also on that page, a tidy, first chapter excerpt of DEVIL'S OVEN. Plus, you can win all three of my novels. Such a deal...I hope you'll check it out. It's a very silly story.

You'll  recognize it by this image. I got the pin at Hot Topic. (With an almost-13 year-old, I'm there a lot.)

Thing Two: I can hardly tell you how excited I am to share my latest short story, "When I Make Love to the Bug Man" with you. It's over at PANK magazine. The delightful and talented Court Merrigan invited me to contribute a story to the PANK pulp issue. And this story is definitely pulpy. It's contemporary, but its lineage is definitely in the pulpy confession/true story mags of the past. And, yes, it has bugs in it. Definitely horrific. Please let me know what you think after you've read it.

Link: "When I Make Love to the Bug Man"


Thing Three: One of my favorite writer chicks in the world, J.T. Ellison, has included DEVIL'S OVEN in the monthly drawing she does in connection with her newsletter. If you sign up for her (incredibly interesting, organized and timely) newsletter, you could win signed copies of her spooky thriller THE IMMORTALS and my Appalachian Frankenstein novel, DEVIL'S OVEN.

Definitely a win-win!

Hmmmm. Was there something else?

Oh, yes. I've dipped my toes into the world of book advertising. You just might see this ad as you traipse across the web. I think it's very fun, thanks to JT Lindroos, who also designed the ebook covers of ISABELLA MOON and CALLING MR. LONELY HEARTS.

More soon!

Fiction Friday: J.T. Ellison's "Gray Lady, Lady Gray"

What a blessing it is to have talented friends. When I called up J.T. Ellison to ask if she would write us a ghost story for Surreal South '11, she said "yes!" immediately. And what a story it is. It's not just a ghost story, it's a deliciously gruesome demon story. Yet, there's so much more to Gray Lady, Lady Gray than demons. I love the fairy tale, Gothic feel it has all the way through. That could have something to do with the castles she'd been visiting in Scotland for research for her Taylor Jackson thriller series. 

The following is an excerpt, opening a few pages into the story. I like the crescendo of anticipation that's common to both sets of characters. 

Thanks for reading. Enjoy.

Laura

Gray Lady, Lady Gray (excerpt)

by

J.T. Ellison

Dolon mounted the stairs slowly. He knew what was waiting for him. Lamia was once a beautiful, cunning woman, sought after by men across realms. But she had become something less than real, something full of hate and spite. He didn’t blame her. Not really. He was simply annoyed that he was tied to her, forever. All gray ladies were assigned a demon, for they were unable to leave their earthly rooms without a demon’s escort, and needed something that could travel through the air, move through walls, lift into the breeze and delve into the souls that fed her existence to make that happen.

It was just… Lamia was so old. Even when she received the essence, became the glorious woman she once was, even then he knew that she was crinkled up like an old parchment inside. It interfered with his abilities, it truly did. 

He reached the top of the stairs and slid through the wooden door into her rooms. She was asleep in her chair, facing the fire, a fur throw around her shoulders. Her gray skin sagged and a fine line of spit dripped from her hollow teeth. At least she still had them. She would be furious with him for watching her sleep. He slipped back through the door and made some noise in the hall, a warning to wake her. When he moved through the door again, she’d straightened in the chair. The fur throw was in her lap now, and she was smiling at him. Her cataracts made her eyes the color of sludge.

“What news, my sweet?”

“A wedding, Lamia. Just like you thought. Between two very young, very impressionable beings. You should have seen the female when you called to her—she turned red in the face like a baboon’s ass. And him, my love, he is strong, but also susceptible. We have a chance.”

Lamia leapt briskly from her seat and went to the window. “When is the ceremony?”

“Tomorrow night. Seven. We should have enough time.”

“Yes, we will.” Lamia turned back from the window to face him, and Dolon could see the vestiges of the beauty she had once been. Even she, old and cruel and severe, could be transformed by joy. 

“We will.”

**

The dress Elizabeth wore was simple and elegant. The base had been her grandmother’s, a wide, bell-shaped skirt of thick satin. The bodice and all the lace had been current additions, making the dress modern and sophisticated. It had a cathedral length train, and though it was much too long for their purposes in the small castle chapel, shortening it was a concession she refused to make.

Princesses had cathedral trains.

She swished about in the heavy skirt, feeling the slick fabric mold to her legs. She was rapturously happy. She checked off the list in her head.

She was in a castle.

She was about to marry the most wonderful man alive.

She was wearing part of her grandmother’s wedding gown, which brought her back to life, in a way.

She looked beautiful. Her skin was clear, she didn’t have her period, her dress fit like a glove. Even her hair had gotten in line and was piled on her head in glorious waves. 

That was plenty for one girl’s wedding day, she thought.

There was rustling in the antechamber. 

“Lizzie, it’s time. Are you ready?”

Her father. Tears pricked her eyes. Oh, my God. Her whole life she’d been waiting for this moment, and now, here it was. She took a deep breath.

“Ready, Daddy.”

She opened the door and admired her handsome father, resplendent in his white tie and tails. He twitched a bit, uncomfortably humbled by the scrutiny.

“You look gorgeous, Daddy.”

“So do you, my dear. Shall we get you married off? Remember, it’s right foot first.”

There were forty-nine stairs. She counted every one as they went down. 

The castle was decorated to the nines. She wondered what mice had descended upon the rooms to make it happen.

Before she had a chance to think anymore, the planner handed her the flowers, a simple spray of white roses and hydrangea, then opened the doors to the chapel.

It all went very quickly from there. The trumpet voluntary sprang to life, her guests rose to their feet, and she saw Edgar, standing at the other end of the room. It was all she could do not to break free and run to him, throw herself in his arms.

She floated down the aisle to gasps of appreciation. She attributed the crawling, goosebumpy sensation to nerves. She couldn’t see the two uninvited guests standing at either side of the altar, waiting for her with blood risen.

Her father stopped walking, so she stopped as well. Edgar looked ready to cry. She fought the urge as well.

Words.

Words.

Words. 

Her father squeezed her hand. And then it was time. The priest was a homely man with wads of white hair spilling from his ears. Mwaiwwage… She stifled a giggle. He spoke in a clear bell voice that snapped her back to sober.

“Elizabeth, will you have this man to be your husband; to live together in the covenant of marriage? Will you love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, in sickness and in health, and, forsaking all others, be faithful to him as long as you both shall live?”

“I will.” Elizabeth brushed a single tear from the corner of her eye. 

The priest turned slightly with a rustle of cloth as dark as raven’s wings.

“Edgar, will you have this woman to be your wife; to live together in the covenant of marriage? Will you love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health, and, forsaking all others, be faithful to her as long as you both shall live?”

Edgar’s voice carried to the back of the hall. 

“I will.”

“Will all of you witnessing these promises do all in your power to uphold these two persons in their marriage?”

There was a chorus of confident, “We will.” 

Elizabeth glowed.