Talking On A Tuesday

Happy Tuesday Readers and a warm welcome to you all. Today is the first day of my Talking On A Tuesday spot, where I delve deep into the minds of fellow authors and get to know all their gossip LOL.
Today I'm talking to author Renee Wildes.

Can you tell us about your latest release?DUST OF DREAMS was just nominated for Book of the Week at LASR. It’s high fantasy romance, published by Samhain Publishing as Book 4 in the “Guardians of Light” series. Pryseis is a dream faerie who leaves her crystal mountain to help a goblin child with uncontrolled nightmares. She’s aided by Benilo, an elven spirit healer. The overlying theme tackles the subject of prejudice, as Pryseis doesn’t see “goblin,” she sees “child.”

Where do you take your inspiration from?I have little bits of “fantasy” all over my house. I have a dragon in my “Virgin Mary” alcove in my living room. I have the Celtic Tree of Life for my bedroom curtain. I have the Green Man for my office curtain. I have a winged, female gargoyle statue on my printer. I have a print of Gilbert Williams’ “The Faeries Queen” taped to my “writing books” bookshelf. I have a bumper sticker that reads “A Day Without Fairies Is A Day Without Sunshine.” I’m also a huge “sword & sorcery” movie junkie!

Do you like to work with music playing in the background? And if so, do you listen to a specific type to evoke certain moods?Music is an integral part of my world-building, and each book has a different soundtrack. I use Enya & Kate Price for love scenes, Warlock & Axel Rudi Pell for battle scenes, and then each book has a “focus.”
Duality was Mediaeval Baebes,
Hedda’s Sword (& WIP Riever’s Heart) was Varttina, Gamarna & Hedningarna, Lycan Tides was Lunasa, Leahy & Danu
Dust of Dreams was Nightwish.

What was it that gave you the final push to submit your first story? And how did you feel when your work was accepted?Duality was my first book. I started in late 2004 with a vision of a red-haired woman kneeling in a burning room, and I asked my critique partners, “Should I try to do something with this?” I finished it in 2005, it made the rounds of RWA contests on 2006 – finalled 5 times, won once – and my Grandma Jeanne (who was the first one to call me a writer – when I was SIX) told me to send it to an editor.

I pitched it to Angela James at the 2007 NJ PYHIAB Conference and Samhain accepted it via my fantabulous editor Linda Ingmanson on 10/27/07. My first reaction was “Did she even have time to read it?” b/c she’d only had it for two weeks and I’d been told it takes months, even a year, for some houses to make up their minds. Little did I know – Linda’s one fast, thorough reader – NOTHING gets by her!

Duality is dedicated to my Grandma Jeanne.

Can you describe to us a typical day in your life as an author?Do you really want to know? Because it’s distinctly unglamorous! I have a cat, dog and two kids. Take the dog out 6 AM, feed the cat, get the kids ready for Boys & Girls Club (Summer) or school. I check my emails, etc. for an hour, then write until 10 when I leave for my day job. Run home at 2:30 lunch to let dog out again. Home at 7, chill with the kids until 9 PM bedtime, then write until midnight. If I’m teaching a writing class or judging a writing contest, writing can get bumped. I do a LOT of my writing on weekends, holidays and the occasional sick day if I’m home w/the kid. I write a book a year. March is a bad month because I coordinate the WisRWA FabFive contest’s paranormal category every year and that’s when I was editing both Dust of Dreams (this year) and Lycan Tides (last year).

What is the best thing about being a writer?
I love creating something out of nothing. I’m pretty sociable - I like networking with other writers, learning new things & occasionally teaching. I enjoy conferences & book signings and meeting new people. I like the occasional fan email.

What does your work space look like? Neat as a new pin? Or area of mass destruction?
Oh Lord – I’m a “lived in” person! I have too many books for the shelves. I have too many CDs for the rack. I have spare computer parts and all my old conference bags in cardboard boxes.

Which, if any of your stories, has been the most emotionally difficult for you to write?
They’re each challenging in their own way, with some dark themes and lots of peril, but I’d have to say Hedda’s Sword. Heroine Maleta is a rape survivor, and has to stop an evil Queen Sunniva from genocide.

Most authors that I've spoken with have at least one finished or nearly finished project that they've held onto for a number of years. Do you have any such work?
And if so, what has stopped you from submitting it?
My first finished “novel” (cough cough) was Second Chances, a short contemporary romance. It’s awful – POV all over the place, full of clichés, “conflict” that one good discussion could have cleared up… Everything you’re NOT supposed to do is in there!

You’ll never see it – contemporary’s not my best voice.

It’s saved in the depths of my computer to keep my humble…and to remember how far I’ve come!

Do you work on one project at a time? Or do you multi-task?
I am totally a one-at-a-time girl. I do too much multitasking everywhere else!

Which of your upcoming projects are you most excited about?
I’m working on Riever’s Heart right now. Verdeen used to be lady’s maid to Queen Dara (Duality) and is the first girl to graduate from the elven military academy. Fun watching “tomboy” learn to handle “woman.” The following book panned features Pryseis’ nephew Dax, who gets mistaken for a deity in The God of Fyre Mountain.

When not writing, how do you relax?
We have horses – my daughter and I go riding every weekend it doesn’t rain. And I scrapbook and walk the dog. Abby’s a predatory, dog-aggressive Chow, so the walks aren’t exactly relaxing, but they ARE entertaining, because she still thinks she can catch the squirrel in the 5000th attempt!

How do your friends and family feel about your work and do you let any of them read your stories?
My sister, husband and Grandma Jeanne have read them. My kids are too young. My husband’s a gem – he does all the “house-y” stuff so I can do “writer” stuff. We both basically work two jobs.

Has your life changed significantly since becoming a published writer?
It’s gotten busier and crazier. I’ve become a great juggler & delegator. I’ve learned my limits, and I’ve learned how to say no.

Where do you see yourself in three years time, as far as your writing is concerned?
I would like name recognition. I would like a book signing filled with people I DON’T already know! I’d like to do more teaching, maybe speaking at conferences. I’d like to be able to attend RWA Nationals!

If you weren't a writer, what else would you be doing?
I’m a certified vet tech, so I’d like to do something with animals. Or be more involved with my daughter Tami’s figure skating club – they’ve been at me for years to “take my turn” but I don’t have time!

Which of your books would you love to see turned into a movie?
Probably Duality because it’s a rousing, sweeping high fantasy romantic adventure. It’s a Cinderella theme with demons and magic and epic battles – and talking horses that sound like Jody Densch!

Can you let the readers know where to find you on the web?
Website: www.reneewildes.net
Publisher: www.samhainpublishing.com/authors/renee-wildes
Personal Blog: www.reneewildes1.wordpress.com
Series Blog: www.guardiansoflight.wordpress.com
Yahoo Group: www.groups.yahoo.com/group/reneewildesromancefantastique/


See below for an excerpt from Dust of Dreams.

Benilo awoke to a world of raw pain. He started to look around him, but only his one good eye opened—the other was swollen shut. He tasted blood. Just a torn lip, jaw swollen but undamaged. He probed with his tongue; teeth intact. He focused on a wall of blankets. Some sort of tent? He bent his legs, and the rattle of chain made him look down. An ankle cuff similar to Pryseis’.

Pryseis? Where was she? He flipped over, holding his breath at the sharp pain in his side. There she lay, unconscious. Too still. His heart froze, until he saw the shallow rise and fall of her chest. Her soft, pink-tipped breasts quivered with the movement. Still breathing. Still alive. A quick scan revealed no new physical harm to her, although her head would be pounding at least as hard as his when she woke. Someone had tried to treat a tear in her delicate, iridescent wing, but that was not a mortal injury.

Now Benilo risked a self-scan. Everything was battered and bruised. The worst injuries were the rib-punctured lung and the blow to his lower back. Slowly, carefully, sifting “self” from pain, he began trance-healing. “Banisha verilli far. Gloria verilli far…” Drawing on the surrounding earth, he decreased his breathing and pulse. Blood flow slowed…slowed… Seeping wounds clotted together. He stopped after healing the internal damage, shaking with weakness from the effort. He dared not risk the additional strain of healing the external. He looked injured, without lasting damage. He needed food and rest. The former would not be forthcoming. Dare he risk the latter?

He dragged himself over to Pryseis, brushed the glistening hair back from her face. Long shimmering strands, like iridescent silk, caressed his hand. Her skin was so soft. No bruising marred the pearly glow. He ran a hand down the curves of her body, checking for internal injuries. She seemed fine—except for being unconscious. Blurring vision warned him to conserve his strength. Dracken rue, he had once been able to do so much more than this! He reached out to the earth, to the water in the hot spring, to the deep fire making the water hot, to the air around him. Each in turn, drawing a bit of strength from each until his vision cleared and he stopped shaking. His headache dropped to tolerable.

Deciding it worth the risk, he drew Pryseis into his arms and held her close, reaching out with his own mind to brush hers. “Pryseis?” He waited a moment. “Can you hear me?”

Pryseis stirred. “It worked. You’re still alive.” She opened her eyes, and gasped. “You look terrible!” she whispered, reaching out her hand to trace his lips.

He fought the temptation to drown in her misty amethyst gaze, and reached out with his mind to touch the pain she bore—part overreaching with her own gift and part the sorcerer’s attack. He pulled it from her, much as he had the nightmares of the women and girls in Shamar. Then it had poisoned him. One more now would not make much difference.

But it would help Pryseis.

“What did you do?” she mind-sent. “Cease. Heal yourself first.”

“I did.” He pulled some more power from the elements until the double-headache receded. “I imagine I look worse than I feel.”

She snorted. “Somehow I doubt it.”

“Food would help.” Benilo spoke this aloud.

Pryseis grimaced. “Brace yourself. They have a meat-based diet—roasted bats and even the porridge has grubs or maggots in it. I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“You have eaten naught?”

“I’m not that hungry.”

Benilo considered their options. He could sustain himself for weeks if needs be on elemental power, but her situation was much more precarious. If she didn’t return to the sun and the pool… “I met Dax.”

Pryseis jerked at that statement. Tears welled. “He’s alive?”

Benilo nodded. “I found him in the cave and healed him. He made it to my people with the amulet.”

She started to shake, and Benilo found himself holding her closer. Part of him marveled at how right she felt in his arms, the ease with which they were able to speak mind-to-mind. How they had connected, how he had been able to find her through fathoms of the unkenned, almost as if they were…she was… He rejected the idea. She was not his life mate. Surely the Lady would not be so cruel?

But even as the possibility registered, his body stirred. The words of the vow crept into his mind. He swept them aside. What had he done to merit such an extraordinary person? He was the last thing Pryseis needed.

“Thank you,” she whispered in his ear.

He frowned. He did not want her gratitude. “Shh, now. Easy. You must rest.”

She shuddered. “Sleep brings me closer to his nightmares. He’s here. He’s right outside. I can sense him. But sleep brings me closer to everyone’s nightmares. They’re worse here. There’s something about this place. The sorcerer. Even—” She stopped, her cheeks flaming.

“What?” he asked.

“’Tis naught.” Pryseis refused to meet his gaze, but his mind caught an image of the two of them entwined afore she could censor the thought.

Ah—so it had been both of them there in the dream-mist. Even now he felt the silken slide of her skin against him, the soft curtain of her hair wrapped around them. Her legs wrapped around him.

“Cease!” she hissed. “’Twas just a dream.”

“Was it? We both had the same dream?” He raised a brow, daring her to negate the fact.

An adorable blush spread all the way down to her toes. Her skin heated against his.

“Now is not the time to bring that up.”

She was right. Benilo removed himself from temptation and sat up. “What goes on here? What do they want with you?”

Pryseis ran a hand through her hair. It shimmered in the dim light. “The sorcerer wants something from me, but I don’t ken what. Communication is a serious problem. I can’t ken them when I’m awake. When I’m asleep, he keeps asking if I feel it too, if I sense it too.”

“Sense what?”

A shadow crossed her face. “Just wait. ’Tis a darkness creeping in. Fear. Doubt. There’s something here that magnifies every bit of negativity. Fear to terror. Anger to violence.” She hesitated. “Desire to lust.”

“And the lad?”

“’Tis all but crippling him. He looks like he hasn’t eaten for days. I made them feed him my portion.” She grimaced. “Apparently, they like grubs. Either that or he was too hungry to care.” Pryseis held out her hands, studying them with a frown.

Benilo tensed. “What is it?”

“They’re fading. ’Tis not noticeable yet.”

He recalled Dax’s warning. “Elixir.”

“He told you?” She bit her lip. “How long’s it been? ’Tis impossible to keep track of time down here.”

“I’m not sure.” Benilo shook his head. “Pryseis, what happens after seven days?”


“Remember what happened to Shallan when she tried to travel to Poshnari-Unai with that elven mage, Anika?” Hallar had said. “Shallan scoffed at the pool legend, and when Anika brought her back, she was barely alive. You can’t leave, Pryseis. It’ll kill you.”

Pryseis gasped and shuddered, running her hands over her arms to stave off the chill in her heart. “I’ll fade and weaken. They taunted me, said Dax was coming along to carry my body home when I fell.”

Anger flashed in his blue eyes. “Who said that?”

“The faerie council, in an attempt to change my mind.” She offered a wan smile. “I should have listened to them.” The chain attached to her ankle scraped with her every movement.

Benilo staggered a bit as he stood, pulling her up with him. “We are not dead yet. You cannot lose hope.”

He looked terrible, probably felt ten times worse. Every bruise shone dark against his fair skin. Shame flushed her cheeks. That he encouraged her! Pryseis paced to the doorway and peered out. The lad stared up at her from where he sat weaving. She saw dark clouds obscuring the full moon, shadows stretching from giant boulders across the barren ground. Cheery piece. One shadow in particular caught her attention. It almost looked like the monster in her vision—that same spiky profile. It loomed over a prone shadow that resembled the body of the goblin slain earlier.

He returned to his work.

Pryseis ducked back into the tent. Benilo peered out a crack in the cloth on the opposite end. “What are they doing?” she asked.

“Half of them are passed out, snoring,” he reported.

She shivered. “I should join them.”

He crossed the floor to pull her into his arms. His mind brushed hers. “It is not safe.”

“But ’tis the only way to ken what’s going on, if things are getting worse.” Pryseis didn’t look forward to it, but what choice was there?

“Well, you shall not go alone.” Benilo clenched his jaw, looking rather fierce for a healer. “Where you go, I go. You could use the support.”

She searched his face. “You don’t want to do that.”

“What? Leave you to face them alone? I think not.”

Her heart tripped at his words. Of their own volition, her fingers brushed his lips. Swollen, not yet healed from the beating. His eyes darkened at her touch, and he curled a hand behind her neck to draw her closer. Pryseis barely had time to gasp afore he swallowed it in a light, tender kiss. The wet velvet of his tongue brushed over her lower lip, and she heard a moan. His or hers? She stiffened and tried to pull back, but he was having none of that. His other arm slid around her waist, and he deepened the kiss as if he felt no pain at all.

Desire, yearning, rose hot and swift. She trembled, remembering the taste of him, the feel of him under her hands. But this was no dream. He was real. Hot skin over hard muscle, solid warmth. Strong hands with calloused fingers glided across her skin. She raised her arms, slid her hands up over his shoulders to anchor in his hair. Long, silken soft where everything else was so hard, it spilled across his shoulders, across her own like a cloud of winter sunlight. Almost binding them together.

“You are not alone, Pryseis. You do not face the dark alone.”

His fingers brushed her injured wing, and she felt a warm glow as the torn edges drew together. There was a painful tingle as they merged, seamless and whole. It itched in the aftermath of the unexpected healing. Benilo swayed against her, and Pryseis broke off the kiss to catch him as his knees buckled.

“Why did you do that?” she scolded in a harsh whisper. He risked strength he could ill afford. “I could have borne it.”

“Well, I could not.” He took a deep breath. Pryseis felt a slight pulling, and he steadied on his feet.

“Lie down afore you fall down.” She followed him down onto the rough blankets. Benilo drew her into his arms. His heart beat under her ear, a comforting affirmation of life. She snuggled closer to his warmth, grateful to not be alone. “I’m sorry you got caught in this mess.”

His strong, lean-muscled arms tightened around her. “I have no regrets. Better to try than do naught.”

He mirrored her sentiments. Her body exhausted, her mind drifted off in shallow slumber. She skirted the edges of her web. It felt so fragile against the searing darkness. Tattered and torn, yet still it stood, pulling what it could from the horrors swirling about it. Fear. Anger. Sorrow.

Red eyes blazed at her from the inky blackness, a blast of icy wind as the lad’s monster hissed and bared bloody fangs at her. She spun an extra strand of Light around the frayed edge of the net. “Leave him alone,” she ordered. “Leave these people in peace. You aren’t welcome here.” Black laughter rolled over her, as if it kenned she was no match for it. But she stood her ground. If she failed, there was no one else.

A hand rested against the small of her back. A trickle of energy flowed into her. The solidity of earth. The heat of fire. The refreshing cleansing of water. The swirling energy of air. Benilo stood behind her, lending her what strength he could whilst she shored her crumbling defenses. Strength that cost him dearly, yet he gave without hesitation, without flinching.

“Mother of All, aid me now.” Pryseis reached through the earth for the wind and the rain, for the sun, pulling and spinning with her whole heart, until her entire web flashed and sparkled with Light. It shook off the damage, once again standing whole against the darkness, pulling the threads from the sleepers around it.

It was enough.

She shivered, raising icy hands to her cheeks. She stared in dismay at her fingers. It was gone. Her radiance was gone, transferred to the glowing threads of her dream-catcher. Horror washed over her, snapped her out of her dream-state into the awake. She sat bolt upright, stared at her arms, her legs. The glowing radiance was gone. Even her hair looked dull and flat. Her heart thundered in her ears, in her throat.

“What’s wrong?” Benilo was blurry through the stinging rush of hot tears. He reached for her. “What happened? What did you do?”

She couldn’t speak for the lump in her throat. The thought of what happened after chilled her. She had naught left to give. At least the strength of the net held the weakness at bay. “The web. As long as it stands, so do I.”

“And if it fails?” His face was white, even in the green glow.

Pryseis shuddered.

*********

Next week I'll be speaking to Elle Druskin.