I have no comment...
...wait, yes I do
So DSP Publications held a contest a while back to thank readers for their support of the new imprint. Winners were asked to supply their character preference and a prompt word to their author, and then the author was to write a story involving those characters and base the theme on the word. I got “Fen + surprise character” and “breath”.

The story I actually wrote for my recipient is Breathe Me below, but once I got done writing it, I realized I didn’t know if the recipient had read the entirety of the series or not. So I wrote them another—Breath Like a Passing Shadow—that wasn’t a big spoilerfest for books 3 and 4.

The long and short of it is: here are two Wolf’s-own fics, the one at the link above and the one under the cut below.

Ta-da! *jazz hands*

Breathe MeCollapse )

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So, Thirddaughter is a senior this year, and as such, gets some privileges. One of them is occasionally getting to leave school for lunch. Today was one such day. But she hadn't taken any money with her, so she had to stop by the house on the way to the sushi place. (Because apparently, sushi = what kids eat for lunch these days.) ServiceDog was perfectly content up until then to lay on his little bed and occasionally harrass me for pets or treats and give me the "Is it time to pick up Thirddaughter yet? Is it? Is it?" look every time I moved. Or looked like I was maybe thinking about moving.

And then Thirddaughter blows through.


Once ServiceDog realized there was a car out there and Thirddaughter was getting in it, and it was leaving without him, he turned and looked at me with such a look of betrayal and went, "Oh-h-h-h-oh-wa!" in his very best whiny-thwarted-toddler tone. He is now sitting on the steps like an attentive vulture, alternately staring at the door and glaring/pouting at me. Thirddaughter has rendered ServiceDog useless until 3:15 when I pick her up from school and she's not even here!

Also, saw this awesome post the other day--The Avengers Reimagined in Dark Fantasy Style--and thought you guys might like it. The artwork is bloody gorgeous!

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Augh! I'm so confused. Doesn't LJ let you have around 10K per post? It's not even letting me have 5K!

Anyway, obviously I've got a fic to post, but since LJ's being a bastard, I'm just going to have anyone who wants it comment here and I'll send a .doc later today. Anyone whose email I don't have, either leave it in a screened comment or PM me with it.

The story was written for a DSPP anthology coming out... sometime this summer, I think. But I have to have it in by the end of the month so I thought I'd run it by you guys first. Just under 9K and rated... eh, probably Mature. (Ish.) Contemporary Fantasy, with characters you haven't met yet. There's magic and a Big Bad Government and... stuff. (Don't make me come up with a summary. I hate coming up with summaries.)

Let me know if you want it/are willing to let me know if you find errors.


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Thirddaughter and girlfriend had their prom this weekend, and I told Julia I'd post a pic. (Admittedly, very little arm-twisting was involved.) I stuck it under a cut 'cause it's big.

The PrettyCollapse )

Also, while I'm here:

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Just... pause to take that in for a moment. A writing guide.

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I've been answering some questions for a blog tour I'm doing soon, and a couple of the bloggers have asked me about the people who would play my characters in movie versions of my books. And I realized I've never shown you guys these pictures. So, eye candy Kimo, Bas, Fen and Mal under the cut.

Come ogle with meCollapse )

Anyway, there we go. I lost all my Dallin and Wil pics back in the OMG Learn to Back Up Your Hard Drive! Crash of '08, and I never did manage to find a good pic for Lucas or Alex, alas. (Though Matt Bomer with facial hair would probably do nicely for Alex.) If you've got candidates, feel free to link me!  :)

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From this post on, share, share!  :)

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Adorable, tuxedo-wearing dicks.


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2nd Edition release available now at DSP Publications!


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Spank or Treat 2014 is finally here! Visit Governing Ana for the prize list, sign-up sheet, and full instructions. You can win from a prize pool valued at over $1,000, including a Kindle Fire or Nook HD donated by Blushing Books!

Many authors will also offer a contest on their individual blogs. Your comment on their blogs enters you in both contests!

How do you play?

1.Visit each blog between Friday, October 24th and Sunday, October 26th to read the stories.

2. Leave a comment on each blog. You must demonstrate that you have read the entire story. Copy-and-paste or inappropriate comments will be disqualified. You will receive one entry per blog for the grand prize drawing. Note: You must have a minimum of five entries in order to win a grand prize.

3.If you have visited all of the blogs, visit Ana’s blog to sign up for FIVE bonus entries to the grand prize.

4.Deadline is midnight EST (UTC -5) on Sunday, October 26th!

5. If you successfully completed a previous challenge (Sci Spanks 2014, Love Spanks 2014, Spank or Treat 2013, Spankee Doodle 2013, Love Spanks 2013, or Spank or Treat 2012), you may add “VIP” to your comments. You will earn THREE bonus entries toward the grand prize. (Yes, we will be doing this again. Yes, if you successfully complete the Spank or Treat 2014 challenge you can become a VIP for our next activity!)

6. If you are a writer of fiction (any kind), add “W” to your comments to be entered in the special author prize drawings.

7. If you are a Spank or Treat 2014 Ambassador, please add “Amb” to your comments to receive your extra prize drawing.

8.Visit Governing Ana or any of the participating blogs on Friday, October 31st to find out the lucky winners. Will it be you? We will also announce prizes on the Spank or Treat Facebook page.

Like these events? Want to support your favorite authors? Become a Spank or Treat Ambassador! In exchange for promoting this event, you will receive one extra prize entry, AND you are still eligible to participate and win prizes! To find out the details, sign up on the Ambassador page or message Ameliah Faith on Facebook.

For more information, updates, and a list of participating authors, please visit Anastasia Vitsky’s blog.

Like Spank or Treat on Facebook!

Tweet #SpankOrTreat on Twitter!

Join the exclusive chat with Spank or Treat authors! Message Anastasia Vitsky on Facebook or any of the authors to receive an invitation

For more spanking fun, visit Saturday Spankings for additional snippets.

Find links to the rest of the Spank or Treat stories at Governing Ana! The more blogs you visit and comment, the more chance to win prizes!

EDIT 10/28/14:

In order to comply with Amazon's "no content that's already on the web" policy, this excerpt has been removed in preparation for the production of the upcoming anthology. Thanks to all who played and congratulations to those who won.

You can find All's Well That Ends Well in the Spank or Treat anthology as of October 31, 2014. I'll post a link when it goes live. In the meantime, if you'd like to follow Lucas and Alex on their first adventure, The Queen's Librarian is available in ebook or paperback.

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I must say, I got rather spoiled watching the series on Netflix. Watching it last week on regular TV, I found myself getting annoyed with the commercials. Plus, I couldn't just click the remote and pull up the next episode, which totally bites.

Also--do they always do that with the "scenes from next week"? That whole "here are five seconds of different people looking shocked and horrified, and maybe screaming, with no context whatsoever" thing?

Anyway, yay for Tuesday and more Dean as a demon!

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This is from yesterday's panel on humor in fiction. Obviously I was being hilarious.  ;)

(Pictured with Jeff Markowitz. Also on the panel: Penny Petersen and Lane Stone, moderated by Sandra Bowman of Intrigue Publishing.)

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I'll be attending two in October.

cc3 and nijicon

(Click on the pics for more info.)

At C3, I've been assigned the panels for Tickling that funny bone in fiction and Sex, sex and more sex; exploring strange bedfellows in crime/fantastic fiction. (Apparently, someone has seen what I write. :/ )

At Nijicon, I'll be hosting the DSP table with Gus Li and Margeurite Labbe.

Anyone who'll be in the area(s), let me know, I'd love to see you!

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In a moment of decadent self-indulgence, I bought this:

I mean--I had to! Just look at it. Look how gorgeous it is! And I got the very last size 8.  \o/  And okay, it was a little... er. Spendy. But! Husband refused to talk me out of it when I begged him to, so I was forced to, y'know--buy a skirt to go with it. And since the skirt was really cheap, I say it all evens out.

Okay, no it doesn't. But! But! I already had the boots because I am a total boot slut and I have all the boots, so I actually saved money!

(Shut up, there is a scientific formula somewhere in the world that will support my theory!)

Okay, yes, I'm weak and pathetic, but damn it, I will look awesome while being weak and pathetic.

Although, I'll be wearing it to C3 or Nijicon, so maybe I can deduct it? Business expense! (Is that legal? It's probably not legal, is it.)

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So, I have recently, and very reluctantly, given in and binge-watched all 9 seasons of Supernatural. I say "reluctantly" not because I disdained the show, or had no interest in it, but because I really didn't have time OMG! to be investing that much of it. I was trying to finish BoB! I was working on a Joint Project That Shall Not Be Named! I was knee-deep in new Wolf's-own proofs for the re-releases! I was training a dog! I was... doing other stuff!


But, Thirddaughter decided this summer would be a good time for her to give Netflix a run for its money, and among some really freaky anime shows that I now know more about than I really want to, she started watching Sam and Dean smartass their way through macabre adventures while getting up to various hijinks and shenanigans. And, naturally, she decided the big TV in the living room was best suited to this endeavor. Which, okay. It's where my giant chair is, where I huddle with my laptop and tap-a tap-a and let my head spill out onto the keyboard, but I can usually ignore everything around me while I'm writing. (I've had 4 kids--you learn to selectively tune.)

I didn't want to get sucked in. I tried to mind my own business. Bas and Kimo spent a lot of time saying "Hey! Writer-bitch! Over here!" But Sam and Dean proved a serious distraction.

And then Castiel showed up.

Oh, Castiel. He of If the pizza man truly loves this babysitter, why does he keep slapping her rear? He of It's funnier in ennochian. I had to become a fangirl! I had no choice!

So, I have now seen every episode of Supernatural and am jonesing for what I'm told will be the last season ever. Which, judging by what was supposed to have been the last season ever a couple seasons ago, is going to end horribly. Because these writers are bastards.

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My secret crush, the fabulous  bluesimplicity sent me this, and since I've just spent almost an hour I didn't have to spare scrolling (and scrolling and scrolling!) I figured I'd sabotage your productive hours too.

Mwahahahahahaha! (<----evil laughter)

And, because she apparently never wants me to get anything done ever again, she also sent me this one:

So, my question on that one is this: if trees are so damned resilient, how come my ficus suddenly loses its will to live every time I move it to run the sweeper?

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So, I said last week I had some good news.

The Wolf's-own series is now officially off the market. No, wait, that really is good news!

Dreamspinner Press is launching a new imprint--DSP Publications--this autumn for genre fiction with M/M content to complement their romance line. Since the Wolf's-own series is fantasy and not romance, they'll be launching its re-release as a second edition run beginning in November. So, all of you who've bought the first editions-- they'll be collectors' items now! *snort*

Also, I'm pleased to announce that DSP Publications has contracted to publish Blue on Black (BoB!), a fantasy/sci-fi novel with an Old West flavor.

Kimolijah Adani—Class 2 gridTech, beloved brother, most promising student the Academy’s ever been privileged to call their own, genius mechanical gridstream engineer, brilliantly pioneering inventor... and dead man. But that’s what happens when a whiz kid messes with dynamic crystals and, apparently, comes to the attention of Baron Petra Stanslo. Young and brilliant and killed for his revolutionary designs, Kimolijah Adani had been set to change the world with his impossible train that runs on nothing more than gridstream locked in a crystal that shouldn’t even be possible but nonetheless works.

Bas is convinced the notoriously covetous and corrupt Stanslo had something to do with Kimolijah Adani’s tragic and suspicious death. A Directorate Tracker, Bas has finally managed to catch the scent of Kimolijah Adani’s killer, and it leads right into Stanslo’s little desert barony. For almost three years, Bas has been trying to find a way into Stanslo’s Bridge, and now that he’s finally made it, “shock” is too small a word for what—or, rather, whom—he finds there.

The release is tentatively scheduled for June of 2015.

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Originally posted by jordan_c_price at New PsyCop Flash Fic
Don't miss the new PsyCop flash fic in today's JCP News!

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Dear Horrible Woman with Clipboard:

Something I didn't get to tell you yesterday, when you were looming importantly over my daughter and trying to bully her into removing her dog and herself from the soccer complex: that clipboard? Doesn't mean you're omnipotent. No, seriously. I know it's hard to believe. I mean, someone gave you a clipboard, right? That makes you Important. It makes you In Charge. It makes you Right.

Except, you know, it really doesn't.

I've seen so many like you over the years. I know the Power of the Clipboard sometimes goes to one's head. I know it's difficult to understand that people without clipboards have rights and might know what they're talking about better than you do. So let me just go over the course of the conversation point by point so that I can tell you all the ways your Mighty Clipboard led you astray.

You: You need to leave.
Daughter: Um. What?
You: You need to leave. No dogs. There are signs. *waves clipboard*
Daughter: He's a service dog.
You: For what? You don't look disabled.

Okay, so stop right there. Not so I can say things like Did you really just say that? or Somehow I can tell already you vote Tea Party More just so I can pause and rein myself back in so I don't mangle my laptop in a fit of resurgent rage. Also, so I can make sure you see how very awful you were, right from the start. Go read that last line again. Are you starting to get it yet?

Yeah, I didn't think so.

*deep breath*

All right, moving on.

Me: Is there a problem here?
You: I'm taking care of it. Please mind your own business.
Me: Wow. Okay, before you say another word, you should know that this is my daughter. My minor daughter. Anything you'd like to discuss should be discussed with me.
You: If she's your daughter you shouldn't have allowed her to bring the dog to the field. There are signs.
Me: And as I heard her tell you, he's a service dog. He's exempt.
You: If he's a service dog, where is his vest?

And pause, because no, he wasn't wearing his vest. This was our first outing in a public place with the dog, and my daughter was reluctant to use the vest for two reasons: 1) Because she didn't necessarily want to advertise "Hey! Look! I have a disability!" and 2) Because she knew there would be a lot of kids at the fields and she wanted them to be able to pet the dog if they wanted to. (When he's got his vest on, he's On Duty and no petting.)

So. Deciding to err on the side of Don't punch the ignorant, I answered:

Me: We decided against the vest today. But you can see his tag on his collar, stating that he's a service dog.
You: Anyone can buy one of those.
Me: *blinks* ...Yes, I suppose anyone could. Anyone could buy a service vest, too. But why anyone would want to, if their dog isn't a service dog, I'm sure I don't know.
You: Maybe so they could bring it to places it doesn't belong and think they can get away with it.
Me: (Um. I didn't say anything at this point. I was too busy gaping.)
Daughter: The vest is in the car. I'll go--
Me: No, you won't.
You: Do you have papers to prove he's a service dog?
Me: ...I'm sorry, are you kidding me?

At this point, I kind of stared around at the other soccer spectators who'd gathered. They all stared back.

See, right about here is when I seriously started wondering if this was some kind of punk or something. Because I was having a genuinely hard time believing I was having this conversation with you at all, let alone the tone and the length of it, and I started to wonder if the surreal feeling I was getting meant I had fallen asleep in my soccer chair and was dreaming all this.

But, alas, no.

You: No, I'm not kidding. There are signs! *waves clipboard* No dogs. And unless you have proof he's a service dog, I'm going to have to ask you to leave.
Me: You can ask all you like, but my daughter's rights, according to the Americans with Disabilities Act, say she doesn't have to. What's more, they say you're not even allowed to ask any of these questions or make any of these demands. Now, if you'd really like to turn this into the shit-storm you're asking for, I suggest you call the police to make us leave, and then they can educate you properly on why you're an unbelievably reprehensible human being.
Daughter: Mom, why don't we just--
Me: No, hang on, I know this whole thing is embarrassing you and I'm sorry, but we can't let this one slide.
You: He has no vest! *waves clipboard*
Me: Because my daughter is not used to having to proclaim her disability to the public in general, and because a vest is not a requirement she is obliged to meet in order to utilize her rights or to compensate for your ignorance.

You see, Horrible Woman with Clipboard, a vest is nothing more than a signal to other people to leave her alone so she doesn't have to be subjected to this kind of ignorance--the kind of ignorance, I have to say, I didn't think we'd encounter at a kids' Sunday afternoon soccer game.

You: Well....

And right about here is where I could see your inner flailing begin. I could see you trying to decide if you should back down and (maybe, though doubtfully) apologize, or if you should keep trying to make what we both knew by now was a ludicrous point.

You, unfortunately, Horrible Woman with Clipboard, chose unwisely.

You: Well, you know, some kids are allergic to dogs. Some are afraid of them.
Me: I'm sure that's true. In which case, I'm also sure those kids will stay away from the dog. As you can see, he doesn't stray from my daughter's side, so none of those things are a problem unless a child who's afraid or has allergies approaches the dog, and in that case, I'd say it was the child's or the parent's problem and no fault of the dog.
You: There are rules! *waves clipboard again, with emphasis*
Me: Yes, there are. And no matter how much you wish it were otherwise, those rules do no apply to this dog.
You: You can't have the dog at the soccer field. If you won't leave, I'm going to have to call someone to have you escorted out of the complex.
Me: *turns to daughter* Sweetie, why don't you take the dog over and sit with Dad? I think Mommy's about to get ugly.

And, you know, I did. I thought maybe, in retrospect, I'd be a little ashamed of myself, because I wasn't just angry--I was incandescent. And I had stopped worrying about making a scene right around "anyone can buy one of those". I did not want to prolong or deepen my daughter's embarrassment--already worse than what she had been trying to avoid in the first place--and I did not want to continue to give those who'd gathered more of a "show". But I felt this was too important. There were examples to be set here, Horrible Woman with Clipboard; there were those kids you were so concerned about, watching you trying to bully a 5' 2" 95lb disabled teenager, and there were the parents of those kids, who would later either tell their kids that you were right to accuse my daughter of trying to pull one over on you, or that you were wrong for letting your clipboard go to your head. And I knew which example I wanted those people to walk away with. So, while I do regret that I was forced into handing you your ass in public, I do not regret educating anyone who was listening about the kind of person you are, nor do I regret showing my daughter that some things should not be borne.

Because, you see, Horrible Woman with Clipboard, my daughter has been in the hospital this year more than she's been out of it. It's why we even have a service dog. She's shy and prone to being too easily bullied. And she has very few Good Days right now. She was well on her way to having two Good Days in a row when you decided to wield the Power of the Clipboard, during which you took a Good Day and turned into a Bad Day, and it has now morphed into a Worse Day, and I can see the week ahead and it's not looking good.

So thank you, Horrible Woman with Clipboard. Thank you for teaching my daughter the valuable life lesson that people are awful everywhere, that they'll take something that's private to you and fling it out in front of all and sundry so they can make their uninformed point, that they'll hang on tightly to that uninformed point and continue to harass, accuse and malign, simply because they don't want to be proven wrong in front of the crowd they've gathered to witness what they thought was their authority but turned out to be their own awfulness.

Thank you for teaching my daughter that, if she doesn't want to have to deal with someone like you again, she'll be obliged to forfeit her privacy and put the dog's damned vest on. Not that it's any guarantee.

So, fuck you very much, Horrible Woman with Clipboard, and congratulations. I have no doubt this is a lesson my daughter will never forget.




Honestly, I've been trying all morning to come up with a calm and less-snarky way of wording a letter to the soccer league's administrators, if for nothing else than to see that their people are better educated, but I think I'm still too pissed off. So I did this. I'd hoped it would give me an outlet and lance some of the rage, but... er. Not really, no.

God, people are such assholes. I can't even.

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