Paranormal Fiction Mistake #2

WHO, ME, NAKED?

 Common Misconceptions of Theriomorphy

            Vampires may be a red flag category in paranormal fiction, but there’s another creature that suffers even more from being under-researched and inconsistently presented.  This is the fate of the theriomorph – what too many writers have taken to lovingly butchering as “shape-shifters” or “were-(insert animal here).”

             Without getting into the nitty-gritty of why I don’t like the terms “shape-shifter” or “were-whatever” (for that, you can read my blog on theriomorphy in parapsychology at http://wildflowerpara.wordpress.com ), theriomorphs are one of the least-researched and most often incorrectly portrayed of paranormal creatures in fiction.  Especially the Lycanthrope, which suffers from the Hollywood stereotype – which is nowhere near to accurate, as Hollywood doesn’t even seem to have researched what real wolves are like.

             If you’re going to write about Lycanthropes – or indeed any animalistic theriomorph – my first and primary suggestion is research the animal you’re basing your theriomorph around.  Find out everything you can about the animal your character is going to become, or shares traits with.  I guarantee that, for the most part, you’re going to be highly surprised by what you learn.  Lycanthropes, especially, have suffered bad press for centuries – most likely because the wolf itself has suffered bad press, portrayed as a ruthless killer who hunts men and tears their throats out.  Anyone who’s studied wolves, or researched them at all, knows this is false.  Wolves are extremely loyal, playful, and try to avoid human interaction whenever possible.  I can’t imagine how they perceive us, but I’d be willing to bet we’d be the monsters, since humanity has actively hunted wolves, without cause, for centuries.  But I digress…

             Once you’ve done your research on the animal in question, then turn to the character him/herself.  What nationality/cultural group are they from?  Does this culture have specific mythology/traditions about theriomorphy?  There are very few cultures on the face of the Earth who do not have some kind of historical, mythological or cultural beliefs about theriomorphy.  It’s a common mistake of paranormal fiction authors to believe that every theriomorphic transformation must be physical.  In point of fact, there is little historical or anecdotal evidence to suggest this, and more evidence to suggest that the changes are spiritual or psychological.

             Which brings me perfectly to my next point – clothing.  In the case of many theriomorphic stories I’ve read, it seems the issue of clothing is never addressed.  So, as we did with the vampire, let’s create a generic theriomorph to use as an example.

             Meet Jake.  He’s a North American lycanthrope.  I won’t go into any more personal detail at the moment, because it’s not important.  So, let’s first look at what we discussed above, referencing wolves and lycanthropic traditions.  Since we know wolves aren’t scary creatures who eat helpless grandmothers and little girls in red capes, Jake’s going to have a wary disposition, be fiercely loyal to his small, close circle of friends, be interested in finding a mate for life, not sleeping around (sorry, wolves are monogamous, so cross out that “player” thought process with your lycanthrope – he most likely wouldn’t understand the concept), and he’s going to have a playful, mischievous side.  He’ll likely be tolerant of children (wolves love their cubs – and the cubs in a pack are everyone’s cubs, not just the biological parents).  Given that he’s from North America, we’ll look at the Native American traditions a little bit.  Now, each one has a slightly different take on theriomorphy.  Some (such as the Navajo and Hopi) believe that theriomorphs are sorcerors with evil powers who change into animals to trick the unwary.  Others, such as the Huron, Seneca, and Iroquois, have legends that talk of great shamans who protected their tribes through the use of theriomorphy.  So, let’s go with that, and say Seneca.  

             And we’ve run into our first problem.  Native American tradition doesn’t ascribe any real differences between animals and humans.  The animal kingdom is intricately connected to the human world, in their traditions, and all animals are our brothers and sisters.  Also, few Native American legends tell of actual physical transformations from human to animal or vice versa.  Most traditions and legends, when they speak of theriomorphy, speak in terms of the Otherworld, where great shamans changed into other creatures in order to learn from them, or to travel the Otherworld in search of knowledge and guidance.  In essence, the transformation was spiritual, sometimes even to the point that the shaman would go to live as, or act as, the animal in question, for a time. 

             Hopefully, you’re beginning to see my point.  But let’s be stereotypical for a moment, and say that Jake does physically change form.  As a wolf, he is free of his clothing (this is the case in most theriomorphic stories).  But what happens when he changes back?  Amazingly, his clothing suddenly reappears, completely unaffected by his transformation.

             Sounds ridiculous, right?  Unfortunately, it happens way too often in paranormal fiction.  It’s fine to have clothing magically appear and disappear if you’re working in fantasyland, or some other completely fictional world you’ve created (I have a lycanthrope in one of my series who uses magic to remove his clothing and replace it as he’s changing form – but this is part of the definitions I set in place for a fantasy world, and I make it quite clear what he does, and stick to that).  Just be conscious that the rules you create, you still have to stick to.  But if you’re working in our world, you don’t have the luxury of playing with physics.  If Jake dumps his clothes with his transformation at point A, he can’t have them back when he turns human again at point B.  He’s going to be naked.  So either he’s going to have to be prepared somehow (and please make it believable), or he’s going to have to walk around naked for a while.

Flash Friday: “The Temple Gate”

A little late, I know.  It’s been one of those weeks!  But here, without further ado, is a belated tidbit for Flash Friday… Something from a Fantasy series that’s become near and dear to me, for its ability to stretch not just my imagination, but my writing skills as well, into new arenas.  Hope you enjoy!  As always, please leave comments and let me know what you think!

“The Temple Gates” – Excerpted from THE EAGLE’S MISTRESS

copyright 2008 by Esther Mitchell

            “You are not welcome here.”  The voice was dry and brittle, like old parchment, and the dark eyes that glared at him through the peep-hole were sharper than the point of a blade.  But he hadn’t braved death to be turned away now.

            “I am Emperor.”

            “Not here, you h’aint.”  Her natural Aresian dialect slipped through as she continued to glare at him.

            Hadrian sighed.  He didn’t come here to fight with a snappy guard dog.  “I came to see the priestess known as N’Lrissa.”

            Silence greeted him, before the murmur of a voice behind the door guard raised fine hairs along his body.  Even unable to make out her words, his body knew that voice, as if it were only moments since he last heard it, and not years.

            “Nira.”

            The dark eyes were replaced by orbs of green the exact shade of the forests of his happy youth.  Eyes in which he once drowned, and in which he would gladly give his last breath to drown again.

            “Your Excellency.  You should not have come here.”

            He smiled at her wavering command.  Part disbelief, part dismay, and not one whit disappointment.  All so much his beloved Nira.   “You can’t hide from me here, Nira.”

            That brought familiar fire to her eyes.  “I did not come here to hide.”

            He would debate that, but he feared angering her would only bring back the guard, and lock him away from her forever.  He lived without her long enough, thanks to Lionora’s conniving ways.

            “Nira, I would speak with you.  Please,” he interjected hastily when he sensed she was about to deny him.

            A weary sigh answered that entreaty, before he heard the heavy bolt slide free, and the huge, Crimorian oak door swung open.  “Very well. Say your piece, and then be gone.”

            His eyes roved over her, drinking in changes and memories that lingered on her form.  She was still slim as a willow branch, delicate in structure, if not in soul.  Her form filled out to womanhood now; no longer the terrified waif of a girl he once found in his chamber.  But her eyes were harder, now.  More cynical, and touched with sadness he could not explain.  His heart jumped hard against its bony cage.  Did she regret this meeting, after all?

            “Not here,” he murmured as he bowed over her hand, not quite daring to touch his lips to the flesh he so longed to taste again.  “Walk with me, Nira.  Just for a while.”

            She eyed the forest beyond him warily.  “These are not woods for an idle stroll, Excellency.”

            His lips twitched with irony as he straightened.  He knew only too well the wild magic of these benighted woods.  “Do you not trust me, Reverence?”

            She eyed him with equal caution as she had viewed the forest.  “I do not know that I should have cause.”

            As knife thrusts went, hers was true, piercing him to the heart.  And it stung even more to know he had earned that barbing.  His was the crime, here, and all the Imperial blood in the world could not change what was already done.

Paranormal Fiction Mistake #1

To Be Old & Hip:

The 500-year-old Modern Vampire

In all the years I’ve researched, lectured on, and read about vampires, one element has come up time and again when dealing with vampires in fiction, and I’ve grown tired of the clichés.  This cliché is what I call the 500-year-old modern vampire.

Now, this isn’t to say that it’s always five hundred years, or that you’re safe from this cliché, as a writer, if you choose some other number (unless that number is less than eighty).  My general rule of thumb is, if your vampire predates World War II, you’re out of the “modern” era, and therefore need to be extremely careful not to fall into this trap.

And what, you ask, is the trap?  Generally, it’s one that proper research and consistent characterization can help you avoid.  Inexperienced authors (and even some with years of experience writing other genres) like the air of mystery to the vampire myth.  Everyone interested in vampires has read (or at least watched the movie of) Bram Stoker’s Dracula – and everyone’s enthralled with this long-lived antihero.  The problem is that Bram Stoker (like many who came after him) fell into the trap, as well.

If you’re going to make your vampire hundreds of years old, you’re going to have to make some sacrifices for that vampire.  Too often, an ancient vampire will be portrayed in a completely modern light.  I can’t tell you how tired I am of 6′3″, bodybuilder or whipcord-thin, Goth-inspired Vampire heroes from the Middle Ages who treat women as equals and etc, etc.  Call this a rant, but I’ve been studying vampires for over a decade, and if you’re talking about a Revenant (Risen) vampire, you’ve got several major problems right from the start, with the above description.

The assumption is made by too many authors that because vampires aren’t “real” (an incorrect assumption which my years of investigation and study in the paranormal leaves me in the interesting position to dispute), there are no rules or boundaries governing their use in fiction.  This couldn’t be more false, as assumptions go.

Let’s take the cliché vampire hero I listed above and flesh him out a little more, while still maintaining the cliché.  Hmm… let’s call him Vlad (hey, we’re dealing with clichés!), and let’s say he was born, a living human being, in around 1480 CE in the region of Eastern Europe.  Keep in mind the description above.

Now we’re going to set our current story in 2008.  Vlad has been a vampire since around 1500.  Anyone seeing a problem already with our above description?  If not, keep reading.

First problem:  The Medieval and Renaissance people were hardly what I’d call tall.  If you want proof of this, go to a museum in Europe (or look at pictures), and study the suits of armor.  A man topping 5′8″ would be considered a freak or a giant, and unless you’re giving Vlad a nightmarish background as a pariah (or worse), you’re going to have to deep-six the height of 6′3″ and knock him down to a respectable 5′6″- 5′8″ (roughly the height of today’s average woman).  Remember, just because he’s become a vampire, the laws of physical shape still apply – mainly, that he’s not going to grow any taller being dead (or undead) than he was when he was alive.  Study the time period, region, and history of the area you’re planning to use BEFORE you start crafting your vampire character.  It’s going to save you headaches down the road.

Second problem:  Much like the first problem, this is one of physical structure.  The people of Vlad’s living era were stockier, for the most part, than modern people.  No, this doesn’t mean they were fat, or that our guy’s being a body builder is okay.  It means that their bone structures were much more compact and dense.  Particularly in Slavic regions, where this still holds fairly true, today.  Vlad is going to have that same basic structure.  Being a vampire doesn’t magically change his bone structure or skeletal composition to make him tall, lanky, or well-defined.  He’s going to be short and stocky – think Robin Williams, not David Bowie.

Third problem:  The Gothic inspiration.  Okay, now I have a large problem with this, but not for the reasons you might think.  Mainly, I have a problem with it because authors don’t explain it, or how it applies to their character.  Let’s take Vlad as our example, again.  He was born in 1480 as a human.  Probably died in around 1500, according to our model that he became a vampire, then.  Well, that was hardly a “gothic” age.  That was the height of the Renaissance.  Clothing and art were bright and vibrant, full of mythic themes, etc.  For Vlad to have a deep affinity with today’s modern Goth culture, he had to have picked it up sometime later – probably during the Victorian Era, when that was all the rage.  And that is something that needs great explanation, and consistency, from the writer.  Not only do you need to know when he picked it up, but you need to know WHY it appealed to him so much that, of all the eras, he clung to that one.

Fourth problem:  Attitude.  Now, granted, as human beings, our attitudes toward people change as we learn and develop.  It’s not a terrible leap to gather that, on some levels and for survival, a vampire might alter certain attitudes.  But not all of them.  Our example hero, Vlad, is supposed to see women as equals, etc.  Only problem is, women as equals is still an illusion in some areas of even today’s society, and the concept wasn’t even around until the Suffrage Movement, and didn’t really take effect until the mid-1970s.  To a vampire whose last living memories are of the Renaissance, this is going to be a tough idea to swallow.  And if he has an affinity for the Victorian Era (see the comments above on Gothic style, again), it’s going to be even tougher.  Sorry, but this is one guy who’s hopelessly stuck in a mindset of “the weaker sex.”  Trying to change him is going to take a major event – and no, falling in love doesn’t count.  Even a woman rescuing his butt from destruction might not be enough to change his views on women.

On another note about vampires and research, let’s look at the whole 1500 thing.  Anyone know what was happening in the world in 1500?

For one thing, it was the Age of Discovery and colonization of the New World.  It was the height of the Renaissance, and the Protestant Rebellion was fast approaching.  It may have been an age of artistic and scientific enlightenment, but it was also a time of constant war and brutality, and Inquisition still hovered on the lips of the malcontent.  Friction between the Holy Roman Empire and the Roman Catholic Church would have spilled over into the region Vlad hails from, and would color his outlook on religion and politics (of course, this all depends on whether or not Vlad was aristocracy… If he was a peasant, he was likely ignorant of pretty much everything in his world from art to politics, and focused entirely on survival).  His world and how he viewed it greatly depend on proper historical context, and consistent characterization.  If he was a peasant then, he’s going to be little better than a hood, these days.  He’s not going to have a lot of pride or self-respect.  If he was minor aristocracy, he’ll have an inflated sense of self-worth, and aspire to be something greater than he actually is… And it goes on from there.

Vampires, in and of themselves, are complex creatures, and it’s not a simple procedure to create one.  I would recommend that anyone considering (or currently working on) a vampire character check out my blog on vampires from the parapsychological viewpoint, at http://wildflowerpara.wordpress.com

I also offer individual services in helping with research and character development of paranormal creatures.  You can contact me a for more information, if you’re interested.

Flash Friday: “The Gathering Storm”

“The Gathering Storm” – Excerpted from Project Prometheus: IN HER NAME

copyright 2001 by Esther Mitchell

 

Aermórnosa, Ali-Antos, 9000 B.C.E.

            A storm brewed on the horizon.  From the turret above the city walls, Sargon could see its fury out over the sea.  Electricity prickled along his arms and neck, and he knew this was no ordinary storm.  Energy hummed on the wind that carried in from the sea. Already the waves grew high and violent around the port of the city below.  This was a storm forged of magical power, and that meant only one thing…

            “They are coming.” 

            The Akkadian didn’t need to turn to know that four others joined him along the high turret walls.  They were joined by bonds of power, the power they had sworn to protect, he and these other Elders.  Each had left home and family, casting aside their pasts for this calling.  As one, they felt this moment arrive, and they were not surprised.

            “Onuris has gathered his faithful.  The Brotherhood are on the waves,” the voice that spoke beside him was deep and steady, though touched with a concern that caused Sargon’s brow to raise as he turned his gaze from the rapidly darkening sky to the giant at his right.  Lugh was a wise man, known to speak his mind.  Lugh’s talented hands crafted the magic that protected them all, and only he knew the correct combination of nine elemental properties that created that magic.  And Lugh, the master craftsman, had molded the sacred objects housed within the Crophines Astenim.

            Sargon turned restlessly to face the ocean once again as the ground rumbled beneath his feet.  He didn’t like this.  It took a tremendous amount of power to disrupt an entire ocean.

            “They are stronger than we believed.”  This came from behind him, the only female voice among them.  The Gatekeeper, Csilla, stepped forward, her soft tones wavering with the tension they all felt.  This was the moment they all dreaded, the moment when time returned to them.  Death was not an option as long as their charges remained unhidden.

            Through Sargon pulsed the flame of battle, and he could hear the drums of war growing louder.  Onuris glutted his minions on the blood of nations, filled his own greedy maw with the souls of the dead and damned until his power rivaled even the Gods’.  Still, Onuris wanted more.  He wanted the Portal of Kronos to make himself immortal.

            Sargon’s eyes narrowed.  He would see to it that Onuris never unlocked the Portal or any of the secrets of Aermórnosa.  His mazes and traps lined the walls and floors of the Crophines, and Lugh’s magic sealed over those.  Still, the artifacts remained.  They must make certain the artifacts, which opened the Portal, could not be reached and put into the hands of Onuris or his Brotherhood.

            “We must go.”  Mykalos, their Healer, voiced his very thought.

            Sargon nodded.  “Our charges must not remain on the island.  Take all but the fifth key.  Take your charges and hide them far away from this place and use whatever means you must to make certain they do not fall into the Brotherhood’s hands.”

            He turned to study each face in turn and knew they thought as he did.  Once they left this place, the time they once abandoned in their service would begin again and they would possess only one immortality – the very thing that Onuris fed on – their souls.

            Grimly aware of the closing jaws of Fate, Sargon pushed away from the wall and strode toward the Crophines.  As the First Elder, Prometheus gave up his immortality and risked the wrath of the Gods to save humanity from the darkness, so too would they risk the same to preserve creation from destruction.  It was a price he knew they all paid willingly.

Like what you read here?  You can find IN HER NAME and other Project Prometheus books at Aspen Mountain Press at http://www.aspenmountainpress.com

The Most Common Mistakes of Paranormal Fiction Lecture Series

For those just joining us (or who may not have known), I have a long history with the paranormal.  For more information on the specifics, feel free to visit my paranormal blog at http://wildflowerpara.wordpress.com .  I won’t get into those specifics here.   The only reason I mention it is because (beyond the obvious, that I write Paranormal Fiction) I’ve been giving lectures for years on the paranormal in fiction.  What works, what doesn’t, and what’s causing a problem that writers don’t seem to recognize.

A few months back, I offered a shortened version of my lecture online for the first time ever, at the webgroup for one of my publishers, Aspen Mountain Press (http://www.aspenmountainpress.com ).  Because the location was so specific, only those authors at my publisher, and those who heard about it from them, knew about the lecture at that time.  But I’ve decided it’s time to take it global.  So, for the next few weeks, I’ll be posting one segment of the lecture a week, here on my blog.  If you’re interested, all you have to do is keep checking back…

The Historian

Okay, so everyone’s always on me to get out there and show how interesting I am… *blinks* ummm…. moi?

Truth is, I don’t find myself all that interesting, but then again, it’s my life, so I guess I’m entitled to find it a tad boring at times *lol*…

I’m not a big political commentator,  so don’t expect to ever see me actively rant about any politics unless they directly impact me or a cause I believe in.  I couldn’t care less about which celebrity is screwing whom, or what the reality TV people are doing.  It’s all much more drama than I have any desire to insert into my life.  If I want drama, I’ll watch one (either movie or fictional TV show).  I’m certainly not interested in trying to bolster my own self-image by laughing at how pathetic someone else’s is.

Instead of political or entertainment commentary, you’re much more likely to get social commentary or a history lesson of sorts, from me.  I know, not the most interesting of subjects to most people.  Personally, however, I find history, and what it provides us, to be fascinating. History and mythology make up the building blocks of modern society.  They’ve made us what we are.  Many people run screaming from it, because the way in which they learned about history was through a bored, monotonous teacher somewhere who didn’t care about the subject any more than the students did.

I count myself blessed, in that regard.  I learned about history by being a part of it.  I got to see history being made around me, every day.  I got to walk in the footsteps of Charlemange, William the Conqueror, and Julius Caesar.  I stood in the vaulted, stain-glassed and painted wonder of Westminster, Koln, and the Sistine Chapel.   I trod the grounds of Falkirk, Senlac, and Tara.  I stood in sad reverence at Normandy, Dachau, and Wounded Knee.  And I could hear the clash of steel, the sound of angelic choirs, the thundering pound of hooves.  And from it all, I learned something greater than history.  I learned that the past is a very real and living part of the present, and the future.  It never goes away.  And I’ve made it a part of my own life to help others see the amazing, rich tapestry of history.

Do I write historical fiction?  No, not in the traditional sense.  Because I also have a rich personal history with the paranormal, that consumes more of my writing time and effort.  However, history always has a way of sneaking in the back door, making itself at home in the background of every story I write.  And I’m pleased to give it a place….

I’ll talk more on the subject later… Right now, I need to get to work…lol

Flash Friday: “The Visitor”

Excerpted from Guardians, Inc: Double Trouble

copyright 2008 by Esther Mitchell

         “Jason?  You have a visitor.”

            Jason Guardian lifted his head in lackluster interest toward the sound of his assistant’s voice, and gave Kylie a vague nod, his mind a million miles away from what she said.  The information his mother e-mailed him this morning on ancient writings about the Ra Chalice filled his mind, instead.  Supposedly, the chalice was blessed by an ancient Egyptian priest to carry the power of the sun-god, Ra.  It could raise the dead, reverse the ravages of disease, even reverse the effects of the Undead Curse.  Of course, how much of that was real remained to be seen, but—

            “Jason?”

            Jason’s attention snapped up at the soft, lightly-accented sound of that voice, and his lungs stalled halfway through a drawn breath as he belatedly registered that he did, indeed, have a visitor.  And not just any visitor.  “Yanamari.”

            It’d been a lifetime since he uttered that name.  Even longer since he last held her.  Yanamari Durango was the reason he joined the Church, the reason he fought demons, and, ultimately, the reason he lost the faith that held him to the Church.  And now she was back.  Bitter memory settled over Jason, and he swallowed it back with difficulty.

            “What can I do for you?”

            The sadness in her dark eyes was familiar, and it roused an old feeling within his chest.  They were kids when she disappeared on him without even a good-bye.  How could she still have any effect at all on him?   But she did.

            He could blame it on her witching ways, her Gypsy charms and spells, but he knew that wasn’t all of it.  His eyes skimmed her, taking in everything that had changed, and everything that hadn’t, in eighteen years.   Still willowy, her body had the shape of a woman, now, rather than that of the girl she’d still been when he last saw her.  That body made him hungry for things he couldn’t have, and all of them started and ended with Mari, naked in his arms.  Her midnight hair was shorter now, shorn to just below her shoulders, and he briefly mourned to loss of that glorious hair he spent so many hours tangling around his hands.  She was his Mari, and yet, not.  Her eyes were more wary than he’d ever seen them, and devoid of the guileless optimism that was the heart and soul of the girl he knew.

            Now, she perched on the edge of the chair opposite him, her shoulders tense and her back straight, like a frightened bird prepared to bolt with the slightest provocation.  And something in him rebelled at that image.

            “Jason, I need your help.”

            Her words yanked his attention back to her face, and what she was doing in his office after disappearing on him eighteen years ago.

Underestimating Complete Idiots

Now, from the title of this post, you might infer that I’m going to complain about a bunch of morons.  I’m not.  Quite the opposite.  I’m going to talk about an often-ridiculed and even more often overlooked reference tool – The Complete Idiot’s Guide (or the Dummies books… though I prefer the former for its thumbability – is that a word? *laughs*)

I’ve heard plenty of people, over the years since The Complete Idiot’s Guide books started being published, make fun of or joke about the books.  I admit that some of the subjects seem a little pedestrian to need a beginner’s guide, and that’s probably what spurs the bad jokes.  But I’m equally puzzled as to why these books have obtained such a bad rap.

Admittedly, they’re not scholarly texts and, like most books, they’re prone to the normal amount of errors.  However, unlike most non-fiction tomes on particular subjects, the CIGs don’t drone on about the subject like a university professor who’s taught the same quantum mechanics for four hundred years.  They present the information in an entertaining and informative way, and include lots of little quick facts that are equally interesting to read.  They provide an excellent bibliography of books on the subject, and sometimes (depending on the subject) even provide contact information for agencies or organizations that deal in whatever the subject matter is.  For a writer, this is like striking gold not once, but three times.

First, they provide basic information on a subject which, if you’re doing research for a book and need to find that information, it can be easily assumed that you’re not an expert on it.  There’re often interesting little factoids in these books that prompt me to research in a direction I might never have even thought of, without them.  Do I think these books should be used as the end-all of research?  Well, of course not!  That was never the intention of the people writing them, and if you’re an author, you should already know that you can’t glean all you need on a subject from one source! That’s English 101.

Second, the fact that these books provide an extensive bibliography is kind of like having a library directory right at your fingertips.  Now, even if you’re pretty well-versed in your subject, and don’t need most of the information in the book, this section is still going to come in handy.  You’re likely to find more indepth research material listed here – maybe even books you’ve never heard of, which might provide interesting research on the subject.

Third, the list of contact information.  Now, I don’t know about you, but my biggest problem with research when I’m writing is when I get down to the questions I just can’t answer with a book.  Often, they leave me with an unfinished plot, because I haven’t a clue who to contact, or whose information might be at least largely accurate and trustworthy.  Sometimes, I even need information that trying to find a contact through normal channels makes frustrating (you should have seen me trying to get the information on the NNMC I needed for SHADOW WALKER! lol).  Well, these books provide a list of contact information for people who can provide that information.  As far as I’m concerned, these contact lists are worth the price of the book, all on their own.  I always look to see if there’s a contacts section in the book, when I buy it.

Take it from me, and never underestimate The Complete Idiot’s Guide books.  As a writer, I can personally vouch that they’re a tool you don’t want to overlook.

Flash Friday: “Deadly Alliance”

“Deadly Alliance”  – Excerpted from Project Prometheus: IN HER NAME

copyright 2001 by Esther Mitchell

They were nearing Nineveh.  She could feel the energy within her rise, and her power come flooding back.  Black Widow glanced at the man driving the battered old jeep and triumph bubbled through her.  Once she told Ra’id that his slut of a little sister was on her way to Nineveh, she had his complete attention and cooperation.

“They’re on foot, Ra’id,” she reminded him wryly as she steadied herself with one hand on the dashboard again.  “I think it’s safe to slow down.”

He shot her a scowl.  “If you had done as you were told and sat in the back—”

“I’d be laying back there in the sand somewhere.  Don’t give me that crap about a woman’s proper place,” she snapped.  “This is my proper place.  And you don’t have to break land speed records to get there.  She’s not going to beat us to the temple.”

His face twisted derisively.  “You do not know these women as I do.  Especially not the little virgin.  They all have evil powers that they use to ensnare men.  They can appear suddenly, far from where you believe them to be to torment any man they choose.  My father told me this.”

Black Widow bit back a laugh.  Ra’id believed that the Daughters of the Star of Heaven were evil!  What would he think if he knew he’d made a pact with the Devil – a pact to become the Devil?

“She’s not a virgin anymore,” she said instead, taking glee in the darkening of Ra’id’s scowl.  Apparently, the desire to murder one’s sister was immaterial when it came to her interaction with the opposite sex.  Ra’id looked protective as all hell.

“How do you know this thing?”  He demanded sharply.

A sadistic smile twisted her lips.  She wasn’t about to let him know the truth.  “You have your spies; I have mine.”

He cast her a disgusted look.  “If she is no longer a virgin, then she is no longer a threat.”

“You fool!”  Black Widow hissed, sitting upright sharply.  “As long as she remains alive, the Poet-Priestess is a threat.  Didn’t you read those incantations on the tablets?”

“Fiction,” he dismissed her words with a condescending sneer.  “All that is of any value in those tablets is the location of the hidden door.”

She laughed darkly.  “Keep telling yourself that, sugar.  In the meantime, we need to remain alert.  Even if you don’t believe your sister is a threat, the man who travels with her is.”

His attention snapped to her.  “What man is this?”

“A man you’ve already killed.”

As Ra’id’s face paled, Black Widow sat back, satisfied that she’d at last convinced Ra’id she was serious.  She needn’t tell him that she could control Matthew if she wished.  Ra’id wasn’t going to live long enough for that to make a difference to him.

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Flash Friday: “Fated”

“Fated”

copyright 2008 by Esther Mitchell

This was dangerous.  Too bad danger was her middle name.  Shayne smirked as she crept toward the bungalow, the day’s humidity clinging to her in a light film.  Hawaii was the last place she expected to find a monster, but she followed his trail here, and she was determined to take out this terror everyone talked about.  After all, he was the reason she killed herself, she thought with a derisive chuckle.

Her breath shallowed as she neared the small building.  Rumor had it that Dimitri Lapinov had senses unlike any other man.  That he was a hundred years old, and could kill a man – or a woman – from hundreds of miles away.  She snorted softly.  She’d believe it when she saw it.

Light danced through the window nearest her, and Shayne’s heart pounded as she edged up to the opening and peeked inside.  As she did, her heart froze, and her lungs constricted as every drop of blood fled her face.

Shit, shit, shit! It was him! Her mind flashed back, and she groaned as she remembered the handsome, scarred man she literally ran into in the hotel lobby two days ago.  An evening of too much drinking, and one incautious comment, and she ended up in bed with a stranger.  The same man she was hunting, apparently.  She blinked, forced herself to draw air against the redness creeping into her vision, then blinked again as she realized the room before her was now empty.  Where the devil had he gone?

“You are looking for me, da?”  His heavily accented voice, against her ear, sent a shiver equal parts dread and desire through her.  Slowly, Shayne turned, and her breath sighed away from her lips as she stared up into dark eyes, made darker still by the troubled scowl on his scarred face.  Oh, yeah.  She was in big trouble, now.