It's about time.

Hello everyone, and welcome to the Haus of Rhi!

Today we're joining in on a blog hop that's raising awareness about a very important subject.

Today we're all dedicating blogspace in recognition of the International Day Against Homophobia and Transphobia. And Haus of Rhi is joining in. This week I'll be giving away an ebook copy of "Blacker Than Black." Leave a meaningful comment on this post with a valid email address before midnight on May 27th to enter the drawing. Each comment will be counted as a separate entry (so if you leave more than one comment, each one will be a separate drawing entry). One winner will be selected via randomizer and announced here at Haus of Rhi on May 28th.



It's about time.
It's about losing the labels that discriminate and delineate.
It's about accepting that not everyone's identity will fall neatly within the definitions you create in your unique perspective.
It's about realizing that you have the right to not align with someone else's definitions.
It's about acknowledging that the boxes are illusions, that they don't exist. Just because everyone once believed the Earth was the center of the universe, or that the Earth was flat, didn't make it so. Our abnormally spherical planet continued orbiting the sun as it always has despite the proliferation and power of their belief.

Nobody--not the patriarchy, nor the feminists or even the misogynists and misandrists; not the homophobics nor the transphobics or even the cisphobes and heterophobes; not the male identifying individuals nor the female identifying individuals or even the non-binary identifying people--nobody has the right or privilege to dictate how you should see yourself.

Nobody has the right to attack you for how you see yourself, whatever your self defining labels might be.
Nobody has the right to classify you with their personal definitions. Nobody has the right to reject your self perceptions. Nobody has the right to clobber you with biologically determined veto power. It's a thing they'll try but it doesn't exist and holds no power over you.

Acceptance. Acknowledging that others are different from you and they've a right to be, and don't deserve your hatred because of it. Acknowledging that others are not less than you, nor are you less than them, simply because of those differences. Acknowledging that others should not be treated differently just because of the differences that exist--nor should you.
Tolerance. It's a thing, and there needs to be more of it.
It's about time.

How do you balance your freedom to define yourself against the recognition that another's definitions will not match yours? Have you ever felt like that difference created a disconnect? Has it ever led you to revisit your own definitions or redefine yourself in some way? Do you think it was a positive or negative influence?

Moving on, then!

April's editing pass went better than I expected it to. Cleaning up prose and addressing a couple consistency issues I stumbled upon, that was the worst of it. Since Piaffe sits at 80k it was no small task, but thank fuck I can call it done.
Done enough that I need a break before tackling the completion of Levade, the second volume. I know I struggle with writing short stories, or even shortER stories, but really, there comes a time when one must stop and breathe or it becomes downright arduous. So, with that first volume of Dancing Circles wrapped up rather neatly, I'm shifting on to the second project on my 2013 To-Do List.
Finishing a half-complete project, Fang and Fire.

Sproing

I should make an update, shouldn't I?
Especially since it's been over a month since my last post, and my self-imposed deadline has expired.

I bought seed starter kits and entirely too many packets of seeds, all of them the same thing: sage. I decided, back at the beginning of March, that since I buy so much of it to dry and burn, that I should really just grow my own.
My seeds are actually sprouting! I have a tray of them in the kitchen window, and they are happily doing their thing. The packet said they needed to germinate for a few weeks, so imagine my surprise when I noticed them popping out after only a week. I will have a LOT of sage to plant outside in May. If I don't manage to kill the seedlings somehow, between now and then. I'm not ruling it out. After all, I do have a black thumb, haha.

On to the latest writing news.
That last push through the end of March actually went well. I won't pretend that I'm exorbitantly satisfied with the current state of affairs that is the end of the manuscript, but that's redundant since, you know, hello editing that is what you are for, yes?

The Tortured Writer Flogs the Whip

I was strolling along quite innocently through this forest of a story, rather certain that I had all the characters figured out. Or that I was in the very least intimately familiar with all of them.
After all, this WIP I'm working on currently...this one has been with me for decades, not just years. I know this forest well. We've forged a few new trails over our time together, but the views are much better along these newer routes. I'd finally reached a place in my journey as a writer where all the pieces had begun coming together. An awareness of self that let me truly see what the story had been whispering all along.

So not really expecting any surprise confessions from characters, right? Dude, come on. I've known y'all longer than anyone except my siblings for fuck's sake. Nope, they've managed to catch me completely off guard. And all the sudden I'm tackling a character who's physically abusing their significant other--because it's the most efficient means of communication and they heal almost instantly.

Just to be clear, I'm finding this disturbing and had no awareness to this particular facet of this character or the relationship. Although it really does...explain a great deal about how little I've cared for this person ever since the outset. The evolution of this story has been a long and decidedly meandering one, yet at no point along that trail have I liked this individual. And to be quite honest, they were one of the more solid creations from the outset. They have undergone the least amount of character alterations, although there has been some evolution in keeping with the rest of the story and world-building.
I'm not sure how I feel about this little development.
There's already so much going on in this WIP that it's likely to end up being two books once I hit completion of the plot arc. I can deal with this too. The details might need addressed in the spring editing I've planned, but this detail of the character feels very much like a piece of the puzzle that I've been struggling for blindly. Groping around in the darker recesses of my mind, batting away dust bunnies and cobwebs.
Alas, here's another story that won't be for the faint of heart.
If I ever write one like that, you should probably take it as indication that the Zombie Apocalypse is imminent.
Damn you, I didn't need this. On so many levels.
These weren't demons I wanted to dig at.
Guess my muses have different ideas though.
Time to crank the "Rocker Monster" and get back to it...

And...we have a winner!

The winner of the "Fragile Bond" promo tour giveaway contest is....

Nikyta J.!

Congrats! Watch your email inbox, I'll respond to your winning entry with a request for postal address.

And a warm thanks to all of you who followed along on the tour!

Book Bling & Milestones

It's here! Starting on Monday, I'll be tromping about for guest appearances at various blogs to pimp out Marc and Hamm. And the book bling from f.Inguz, which you'll have a chance to win. A gorgeous little bookmark trinket. The contest will close on Sunday, 24 Feb, and the winner will be announced here at Haus of Rhi next Monday. The full list of promo appearances is here on my website, starting with Cup O' Porn on release day, where the complete details of the contest will be available. Along with some porn, of course.

I'd also like to take a moment to thank the #soldierporn followers who are now four thousand strong. Curating it has kept me going strong through a number of dry spells with my writing over the past eighteen months or so since I started it (#soldierporn turns two in June). It's kept me focused and researching instead of getting lost in fruitless procrastination when the muses are uncooperative. And I'm grateful to everyone who's shown interest in its content, for whatever the reason; it's been my way of sharing knowledge, perspective, and insight to which most people don't have access or exposure. The followers of #soldierporn aren't necessarily my fans or readers, but that's never mattered to me because it wasn't why I started it in the first place. Still, without that interest I probably would've stopped maintaining it some time ago.

So, a warm thank you from Rhi and all the muses.  Fragile Bond doesn't officially release until Monday, but you can download it now if you purchase it directly through Riptide, here.

And yes, this entire blogpost was born purely of insomnia and procrastination, fueled by caffeine and ice cream...how did you know?

A Whisper of Spring, and Other Things

The sun was actually out the other day.
Not in that dreary-gray winter sky overcast sort of way, but like that new neighbor who seems fascinating and friendly at first and quickly becomes annoying with the late partying and still managing to be up at the ass-crack of dawn on your days off. As though the sun's giving fair warning that we'll be sick to death of it in six months.

However, it's winter right now (though the thermometer totally had me fooled today) and so when the sun was out, I opened all the curtains and let it come streaming through the living room window.

I was not the sole beneficiary.
Because it seems as though my wonderful writing mascot, Iron Mike, has developed some decidedly feline tendencies.
I mean, yesterday I surprised him when I came home from work at an abnormal time. Surprised him so badly that he fell out of his bed into his food bowl, and scattered dry dog food across the kitchen floor. How'd he manage that? Well, his bed might actually be a gigantic dog pillow stuffed into an Adirondack chair. He might actually sleep on his back with his legs in the air, too. So falling out of bed is not unheard of.

The pool of sunshine was definitely less of a mess to clean up. I can only hope we get more before March... Sunshine, not dog food. Jeez.

Though to be fair, despite the fact that it took him until the age of six to stop acting like a puppy, he's finally starting to get old and I can absolutely sympathize with the relaxing quality of radiant sunshine. He also hangs out over the heat vents all winter long, too.

Someone once informed me that my lovely companion has no idea how to be a dog. To which I retorted, "that's fine, because he isn't, not really."
No, Mike would never be able to survive on his own in the wild if civilization as we know it came to a screeching halt. (Few of us humans can claim that ability, though, so the lack is hardly concerning.) He wouldn't be able to interact with other dogs very successfully either, I don't think--but that's fine, because he and I are pack, and I'm not a dog. He doesn't need canine interaction skills, but human ones--and he's developed them in spades. He doesn't have voice commands or formal obedience training, but he doesn't need it. He's always been responsive to my communication, voice fluctuations, body language and gestures. They're a language he's learned to speak fluently enough.

He's become a great source of research material for my writing. Animal behavior, the power of instincts, nonverbal communication, interspecies relationships, and a host of other subjects as well. Okay, yep, probably too many psychology electives in my post-secondary education, but whatever.

Oh yeah, I got sidetracked and forgot why I'd meant to make a blogpost in the first place.
Blog dates and locations for Fragile Bond's promo tour are up over on my website. I should be writing blogposts for it. So I'll get back to that now that I've rambled about my writing mascot as a means of procrastination.
Spring cannot get here fast enough. I'd love more sixty-degree weather, myself.

Bronze Beaus and Bonds

The holidays and I have had a hardcore love/hate relationship for many years, so I tend to stay low-key from All Hallow's Eve through the beginning of the year. Sometimes it strikes an ennui in me that causes a creative lag. Not this time.
It seems I've surrounded myself with enough protective energy and positive thoughts to ward off the worst of it.
This beauty here is part of that! No, I didn't even wait until Yule to open my present, either. (Rhi must really learn to turn the date-stamp off on the camera so that it's easier to falsify improprieties such as this.)

Bronze Dragonscale

It's always a struggle for me to find pieces of jewelry I'll willingly wear. Naturally, this means the probability of finding things I don't ever want to take off is virtually negligible.
Yeah well...I'm totally besotted. Meet my new beau; the dragonscale is inextricably adhered to my wrist. I'm even sleeping with it on.

I've always preferred silver over gold, but have recently found that copper and bronze resonate even more strongly with me. I was rather curious as to why this instinctual skewing was taking place... so I went digging and found some intriguing information about copper, and as an alloy offshoot, bronze:

On a physiological level, copper promotes the absorption of iron, a deficiency I struggle with constantly. My I Ching coin bracelet left a fist-sized bruise on my inner forearm not so long ago, for instance... because I slept on it wrong, I'm guessing. So you can imagine that this benefit alone would drive a subliminal craving to have copper against my skin. But the influence of this metal goes beyond that: it increases dream activity, develops creative imagination and dissolves confusion. It creates neutrality and balances moods, promotes free emotional expression.
Tin controls the sense of taste and harmonizes the nervous system; this latter is an aspect I find especially important since the contrast of my day job and moonlighting as a writer means I have to switch gears from left brain to right brain on a regular basis multiple times a day. It helps transform emotions into concrete form, and also has inspiring effects--encouraging the development of inner talents and abilities. [I found all this, and some other interesting reading, here.]
So, yep, my copper and bronze bracelets and cuff just became a permanent fixture on my body. As though they haven't been for the past few weeks, already.

In other happy announcements with which to ring in the Year of the Snake (unofficially, since the Chinese New Year isn't until February 10th) my boys are slotted for release on February 18th. What a way to ring in the official new year, and a celebratory birthday present from me to all of you! Yep, Hamm and Marc are coming your way! (Gratuitous cover art under the cut, along with a run-down on plans for the rest of the year, bloody fuck I'm rambling again...)

WIP Wonders Never Cease

I have been trying to stay unplugged today.
My writing related efforts have been limited to WIP research in the form of a series of tarot spreads that demanded exhaustive interpretation. Not that it was much of a demand; I looked at the cards and the meaning just flowed from me onto the pages, fitting into the characters and their situation and struggles as easily as though I'd deliberately chosen which cards went where. It's going to fill the last pages in the first giveaway notebook, and begin the second with another.

Fang & Fire, Animal & Element

I'm saving a blank page at the end to write a personalized note to whomever the recipient ends up being. This journal is very much a collection of tarot spreads, interpretations, discussions of the finer points of the main characters, exploration into their deeper motivations, and a smattering of raw, unedited prose -- scenes that may or may not end up in the final version of the novel when it's published. Plus a few random snippets of descriptions and lines of dialogue, standing alone without reference or orientation.

Outcome and Avatar, The Moon on Water & The Journey

A story forged from tarot cards was birthed on these pages. I truly hope readers find both as much enjoyment in it, and characters with whom they can sympathize and relate, as I have while creating them and following their journey along the labyrinth. It's been a joy getting to know these two main characters intimately as I did each tarot spread for them, listening to what they thought the cards were saying, and how they chose to employ the wisdom found.

And like anything else, the end of this story won't be the end of their journey, but a rest-stop. The Moon on Water is the still point of potential; they'll have other stories to tell and a hundred other adventures. I wonder if they'll let me tag along when this one's done...
Mind you, this one isn't quite done being written just yet.

The Writer's Process: Losing Sense & Increasing Sensitivity

One of the things I've learned to do as a writer is to make use of all the various senses while using descriptive prose. It drags the reader in completely, lets them submerse and engage.
I've also toyed with, in certain scenes--specifically in "Blacker Than Black"--leaving out the engagement of a specific sense for a reason. It's a short sequence,  and I recall a discussion with the editor who felt the need for there to be some type of description of visual cues to ground the reader.
"No," I responded. "The narrator's eyes are closed."