Archive for the ‘Writing’ Category
New #ParanormalLoveWednesdaysBlogHop w/excerpt from Michael’s “Columba and the Cat”
Folks, this is the second time I’ve done the Paranormal Love Wednesdays Blog Hop. (The first time was last week, and was for AN ELFY ON THE LOOSE.) This time, I’m doing it in support of my late husband Michael B. Caffrey’s story “Columba and the Cat.”
Years ago, this story was available at e-Quill Publishing in Australia, but I withdrew it in 2012 after I was picked up by Twilight Times Books as an author. While I appreciated e-Quill’s interest in Michael’s work very much, I felt I could perhaps do a little better on my own…I just needed to get the skills together to do justice to his work.
Anyway, I now have more of those skills. I’ve found friends and allies over at the Marketing for Romance Writers group (do look them up if you’re a writer; they’re incredibly helpful people), and some of those authors set up the Paranormal Love Wednesdays Blog in order to showcase paranormal works a little better. 
Michael’s “Columba and the Cat” certainly qualifies.
What’s it about? As I said yesterday:
“Columba and the Cat” is about Princess Columba of Illinowa. She’s a magician, a scholar, and is currently the heir to the throne…and wants no part of it. Because she’s royalty, she’s had trouble meeting men, and she’s tired of dealing with people in search of a title rather than herself.
Into her life comes a mysterious cat. (Literally. The cat nearly gets run over while she’s out riding.) She rescues the cat, takes him into the palace, and starts having unusual dreams — dreams of a man who understands her, cares about her, and loves her. Unbeknownst to Columba, the cat is a shapeshifter. He, too, is royal, albeit from far away. And he’s the man of her dreams…that is, when he’s not in the form of a cat.
Then the dream-man shows up, and the cat disappears. Columba must decide whether or not to believe in her dreams and hope that somehow, all of the magical romance she’s found is here to stay.
I don’t yet have a link for the story as it’s not yet up. (EDITED TO ADD: Here’s a link for everyone!) But I do have an excerpt, cover art, and a banner. I do hope people will love this excerpt and will want to read the rest of the story.
First, the banner: 
Now, the excerpt (apologies in advance; it’s a bit longer than four paragraphs):
Again it seemed that Cat could understand what she was saying, as he rolled to the side and off the Princess-Royal’s body.
Columba looked at him in surprise — how had he realized that the only way he could have stood and walked on her nightdress was to dig in with his claws? And how — and why — had he figured out so quickly how to remove himself so quickly without having to use those claws?
Yes, if she could convince him to stay — and if he had the other qualities necessary — Cat was the familiar for her.
After a few minutes, she came back out, brushing her shoulder-length blond hair, and turned down the covers. She sat on the edge of the bed, brushing her hair and making inconsequential chat to Cat, constantly amused at his occasional mew or mrowr as she paused, almost as if he was truly interested in the court gossip she had picked up during the hour between the ceremony and dinner. After a bit, she finished with her hair and set the brush on the bedside table, then swung her legs under the covers and pulled them up.
A wave of her hand was enough to douse the magelights in the room, leaving only the firefly glow of a single light in the bathroom to reflect off Cat’s eyes as he gazed through the dark at her.
“Mrow?” the animal inquired, an almost plaintive note in his voice.
Columba chuckled gently, then lifted the cover. It was a cold winter’s evening, after all, and Cat looked uncomfortably thin, despite his size. “If you’re cold, you can come in here with me, darling.”
With a gentle rustling, Cat crossed the short distance from his chosen pillow nest to rub against Columba’s face before crawling carefully under the covers and turning around to lay against her breast, his head under her chin and his whiskers tickling the exposed skin above the open neck of her flannel nightdress. With an uncharacteristic giggle, Columba let the sheet drop and snuggled Cat close, her eyes closing as his rumbling purr began to lull her to sleep. As she drifted off, she almost thought that she heard something stirring . . . most likely the wind was her last lazy thought before sleep claimed her.
In the night, Princess-Royal Columba had the most wondrous dreams — dreams of a strange prince, not overly handsome as many of her dream princes had been, but not totally shabby either, with hair that almost the color of her new most favorite pet’s fur, but features she could not clearly discern. The prince courted her assiduously, slowly, over the course of months in that night’s dream, obtained at last her promise that she would be his.
The first dream faded into vague images she could not recall — stallions and mares, springtime, birds in their nests with the little birds chirping for food — and a sense as if she was riding one of those stallions back and forth across a plain of short, bluish-green grass, almost the color of the sheets on her royal bed. It was a wonderful ride, this dream-gallop, farther and harder than she’d ever ridden before, with breaks to rest the horse and herself, an electric ride that sent surges of pleasure through her. Eventually, that dream faded back into her dream prince, clasping her in his arms, gently kissing her lips, then her throat . . . .
* * *
Note: For my friends in the Fantasy and Science Fiction Network, and for romance readers everywhere, this is as spicy as it gets. It’s somewhere between a PG and a PG-13 as far as a rating goes…Michael believed strongly in romance, but he also believed the best romances took place privately. So there should be nothing here that offends anyone’s sensibilities.
I hope that piqued your interest…now, get back to hopping, and go visit the next person up in the Paranormal Love Wednesdays Blog Hop!
| 1. | C. Marie Bowen | 3. | Blaire Edens | 5. | Barb Caffrey |
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| 2. | Margo Bond Collins | 4. | Erin Hayes Books |
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Cover Reveal for Michael B. Caffrey’s “Columba and the Cat”
Folks, I’m very excited to announce that my late husband Michael B. Caffrey’s story “Columba and the Cat” is going to be coming back out independently very soon as an e-book via Amazon Kindle — within a week if all goes well.
And now, I have a cover!
Ta da!
I edited Michael’s story, and I know it’s good.
“But what’s it about, Barb?” you ask.
“Columba and the Cat” is about Princess Columba of Illinowa. She’s a magician, a scholar, and is currently the heir to the throne…and wants no part of it. Because she’s royalty, she’s had trouble meeting men, and she’s tired of dealing with people in search of a title rather than herself.
Into her life comes a mysterious cat. (Literally. The cat nearly gets run over while she’s out riding.) She rescues the cat, takes him into the palace, and starts having unusual dreams — dreams of a man who understands her, cares about her, and loves her.
Now, why did this happen after the cat showed up? Well, unbeknownst to Columba, the cat is a shapeshifter. He, too, is royal, albeit from far away. And he’s the man of her dreams…that is, when he’s not in the form of a cat.
Anyway, the dream-man shows up, and the cat disappears. Columba must decide whether or not to believe in magic, believe in the dreams — and hope that somehow, all of the magical romance she’s found is here to stay.
It’s a deeply romantic story with more than a little paranormal involvement. I definitely hope people will enjoy it, and am pleased to be able to finally bring it back out again.
There are three more stories in this universe. Two are written by Michael, while one is currently being written by me from Cat’s perspective (as in, why did he go in search of Columba in the first place?) Perhaps more can be written, later, if people show interest — I think my late husband would like that.
My plan is to have “Columba and the Cat” out as an e-book at Amazon in time for my thirteenth wedding anniversary on June 24, 2015. (I think Michael would approve.)
Before I go back to my editing (an intensive project, already in progress), here’s a banner display to check out as well, courtesy of artist Kathey from the Author’s Secret. (They have ready-made covers over there, too, and offer a wide array of services. Just sayin’.)
Time for a Paranormal Blog-Hop Wednesday, Elfy-style!
Folks, I’m proud to take part in Paranormal Love Wednesdays’ Blog Hop. I found out about this because I’m a member of Marketing for Romance Writers…as a writer of humorous YA urban fantasy/romance (with ghosts), I thought AN ELFY ON THE LOOSE might find some new readers this way.
And that’s important, especially as A LITTLE ELFY IN BIG TROUBLE is coming soon…
Let’s see what a bit from AN ELFY ON THE LOOSE, chapter 18, can do, hm?**
Drum roll, please:
“Trust me.” He winked. Bruno was gratified to see Sarah smile at him. It was a small smile, but he wasn’t picky. He’d take any smile he could get.
He walked away from Sarah. The spirit followed him. Bruno almost felt as if he could sense the spirit wondering what he was doing, walking away from Sarah like this. He asked once, “Sarah? Do you feel anything?”
“No, should I?”
“Hmmm,” he said. He decided that since leading the spirit wasn’t doing any good, and trying to contact it directly hadn’t done any good either, he might as well ask it what it was doing there. He walked directly toward it. This time, it stayed put. Bruno felt a sense of astonishment from the shape before he addressed it. “I mean you no harm; neither does Sarah. Can you help us?”
Bruno expected the spirit to do something, but he didn’t really expect what came next. The spirit darted this way and that all over the third floor. Bruno and Sarah were led on a merry chase for a few moments, until it vanished into a wall. The very wall he had been examining when the spirit had appeared.
“Now what?” Sarah asked.
*** END EXCERPT***
Want to know more? First, here’s a blurb for you:
Bruno the Elfy believes he’s very young, has no power, cannot see or talk with spirits, and has no enemies.
He’s wrong.
Quickly sent to our Earth (the Human Realm) and told to watch for magic, Bruno must unravel the lies, keep his mentor from being tortured, and—oh, yeah—figure out why he’s so strongly attracted to young, Human Sarah.
Because his life depends on it.
Now that you’ve read a bit more about AN ELFY ON THE LOOSE, perhaps you’d like to read the five sample chapters? (If so, here they are.)
Or maybe — just maybe — something here intrigued you. If that’s the case, here are my buy links:
Amazon (US): http://amzn.to/1p6xvQj
Amazon (UK): http://goo.gl/dDoBnd
Barnes and Noble: http://tinyurl.com/m8o49ad
And do, please, check out the following authors…they’re all taking part in the Paranormal Love Wednesdays Hop, just as I am:
| 1. | Margo Bond Collins | 6. | Megan Morgan | 11. | Andrea R. Cooper | |||
| 2. | Bokerah | 7. | Dena Garson | 12. | Barb Caffrey | |||
| 3. | Carrie L Wells | 8. | Jo Grafford | 13. | Jodi Hale | |||
| 4. | JoAnne’s Blog | 9. | Helen Henderson |
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| 5. | Connie Bowen | 10. | J.J. DiBenedetto |
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**Note that the Paranormal Love Wednesdays’ Blog-Hop asks for only four paragraphs, and I put up six. (Yes, I can count.) I couldn’t figure out how to do it in only four paragraphs…so please forgive me the two extra paragraphs.
Friday Inspiration — Who Are Your Heroes?
Friday’s inspirational thought is this: Who are your heroes? And why are they important to you?
Why are heroes important? They give us reasons to keep trying.
Long before I ever knew I wanted to be a writer, I knew who my heroes were. Henry Aaron. Ernie Banks. Larry Doby. And Jackie Robinson. Men who broke the color line in major league baseball, who dealt with gratuitous insults with grace and dignity.
Oh, I had others, too. Helen Keller, for learning and thriving despite being both blind and deaf. Florence Nightingale, for being willing to nurse the sick and for preaching the importance of proper sanitation. Art Pepper for getting away from heroin and resuming his jazz career in his early fifties…and Benny Goodman, for proving that a strong jazz clarinetist could play Mozart with equal ease.
Those are just a few of my heroes.
So who are your heroes? Why do they matter to you?
And one additional question for my fellow writers out there: How have your heroes factored into your writing?
A Monday Editing Blog (AKA, “What’s the Deal with the Second Half of ELFY, Barb?”)
Folks, it’s been an interesting week around Chez Caffrey.
As most of you know, I’ve been struggling with my final edit for the second half of the ELFY duology, now titled A LITTLE ELFY IN BIG TROUBLE. (I like this title.) I haven’t discussed why I’ve been struggling so much, but there have been three things getting in my way.
Today seems like the time to discuss these things.
First, I’ve been doing a good amount of occupational therapy for my hands. They haven’t been good since I suffered a bad burn in February; that burn, which was to the left forefinger and left middle finger, set off a bad carpal tunnel flare-up. I went to the doctor, got treatment, and started doing exercises.
After almost two months of exercises, I’m now back to the point where I can type a good four or five hours every night. I still must needs take breaks, and of course I have to keep doing my exercises as well. But things have improved.
The second reason why I have been having trouble is because I wrote the book twelve-plus years ago. Times have changed. Some specific references needed to be updated. And because the book was split, I had to try to make the book appear like it could stand alone…though no matter what I do, it’s going to lean heavily on the first half of the book (AN ELFY ON THE LOOSE), as that’s by design.
(Clear as mud, right?)
My third reason for needing to take time with this? Well, you have to be in the right frame of mind to see what is actually in your own manuscript rather than what you think is there. This is the main reason most authors do not edit themselves; granted, I had an editor do the first pass for me, and I’m following what she said when I agree with it. But the editor didn’t read the first half of the novel, and that means some of what she said has to be taken with a huge grain of salt.
Now, I’m very fortunate in that I have two great mentors in my corner this time around: Stephanie Osborn and Katharine Eliska Kimbriel. They both have looked at my revised first chapter and have given me excellent advice. They also have been a strong sounding board, and have listened as I’ve wrestled with this final edit for the past several months.
What I try to do with the Elfyverse is to be consistent. I want to tell the best story I can. I’ve improved my actual writing mechanics a great deal since I originally wrote ELFY in 2002-3, and I want to reflect that…but I don’t want to take all the life out of the story, either.
It’s because I had this twelve-year break in the action that I can edit for myself at all.
And make no mistake about it: This is a full-on edit. It is not editorial changes, which is a much different animal. This is my own take on my own work, yes, but it’s also my older and wiser self editing my younger and more exuberant self, while trying to keep track of all the details — you may feel free to read “keep all the balls in the air” if you wish — at the same time.
So to answer the question I posed in my title…the deal with the second half of ELFY is that I’m working hard on it, and I hope to have it in to my long-suffering publisher very soon.
At that point, I’ll find out what the revised timetable is for publication, and I’ll be glad to trumpet that all over the Internet.
But until then, wish me well as I continue to recover from the worst carpal tunnel flare-up I’ve had in years. As I definitely need all the well-wishing I can get.
Whither Writing, or, How to Stop Getting in Your Own Way
Folks, I keep meaning to write this little bloglet about writing, and time keeps slipping away.
Why? Well, I’m still ensconced in my final edit of A LITTLE ELFY IN BIG TROUBLE. Were my hands a bit better — I’ve been dealing with a flare-up of my carpal tunnel syndrome for the past few months — it would’ve been done by now.
So I thought to myself today, “Why am I judging myself by other people’s standards?”
Writing is an individual pursuit. Anyone who writes knows this. We all have different styles of writing, different ways of writing, and different habits away from writing, all of which adds up to one thing: we are individuals, doing individual pursuits.
Before you say it…I know this is obvious. But sometimes, you must point out the obvious.
Especially when you tend to forget about it, as most of us do.
So here’s my thought: We are all individuals, right? So why do we try to judge our writing progress by anyone else’s standards?
I know, I know. There are some standards that seem irrefutable.
But if I try, say, to judge what I’m doing by what my friends are doing, I’m going to lose.
Then again, if they judge themselves by what I’m doing, they might lose, too. Especially as I don’t know what their standards are; only they do.
Look, folks. You have to judge yourself solely by what you do. And you have to allow yourself to be yourself: an individual voice doing individual things in an individual way.
That’s how you stop getting in your own way, as a writer or in life.
Think about it.
Barb Caffrey's Blog 
Commentary on Charleston, plus cover reveal for “To Survive the Maelstrom”
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Folks, I’d planned to do this cover reveal today for my forthcoming short story, “To Survive the Maelstrom,” before the events in Charleston last night.
Because this story deals with loss, grief, and a soldier with PTSD finding a way to continue on with his life, I decided to go through with it anyway. I plan to release this story sometime next week in time for my thirteenth wedding anniversary.
But before I do that, I’d like to comment a little on the Charleston shooting.
My heart is heavy. I don’t understand why anyone would sit through an hour’s worth of Bible study, then calmly and coldly shoot nine people to death.
I know that the man who’s been ID’ed as the shooter is a self-proclaimed racist. I know that he wanted to “kill black people,” and left one person alive to explain just why he did this. I also know the shooter is only twenty-one years old…because I don’t like talking about someone so evil, so twisted, and so bizarre, I’m not going to give this perpetrator the dignity of having a name. (I think he lost that when he took those nine people’s lives in cold blood.)
Anyway, while I cannot understand the shooting in Charleston at all — a church, of all places, should be safe, even in times like these — I do understand how it feels to live after grief. And overpowering grief is very difficult to bear.
This is why I wrote “To Survive the Maelstrom.”
Note that Michael, my late husband, is credited for two reasons. One, I’m playing in his Atlantean Union universe. And two, I found the story of how Peter, my hero, met his weremouse (an empathic, sentient creature), to be uplifting and inspiring — and Michael had the bare bones of it in one of his unfinished manuscripts.
The blurb for “To Survive the Maelstrom” will go something like this:
Into his life comes Grasshunter’s Cub, an empathic, sentient creature known to those on Heligoland as a “weremouse.” Grasshunter’s Cub is nearly adult, and knows he doesn’t fit in with the rest of the weremice in his tribe.
Weremice are known for their ability to help their bond-mates. But how can this young weremouse find a way to bring Peter back from the brink of despair and start living again?
Ultimately, “To Survive the Maelstrom” is a story of hope and faith, told in an unusual way. I hope readers of military science fiction will enjoy it.
I also hope that showing someone who’s lost everything and found a way to claw his way back will be inspirational, maybe even heartwarming.
Because we need stories like this right now.
Written by Barb Caffrey
June 18, 2015 at 7:30 pm
Posted in Michael B. Caffrey, milsf, Writing
Tagged with "To Survive the Maelstrom", Atlantean Union, Charleston shooting, commentary, cover reveal, grief, loss, military SF, milspec, PTSD