Why Do You ALWAYS Write the Prequel Second?

By Brenna Lyons

This is a question I hear often, and it seemed like a good time to address it.

I think it’s safe to say that I don’t always write the prequel second, though it sometimes seems like I do. That said, there are two important factors here.

The first is that the only reason the word prequel exists is because people write the ‘story before the story’ often. If everyone wrote a world in order, there would be no need for the word prequel. Everyone would write their worlds in chronological order, and additional books would always be serials to or sequels to the ones that came before.

But writers don’t write so neatly. I certainly don’t.

To understand why the prequel comes after another book so often, you have to understand my writing process. I meet a character or group of characters, and they tell me a story. In the case of CLOSE ENOUGH TO HUMAN, I met Aleeks Daahn and Miri Johns, and they laid out the story of CETH for me.

Somewhere in the back of my head, other books in the world are in various stages of completeness and competing for my attention. They compete so vehemently for my attention that sometimes other books hit the active writing process and then the printed page of an earlier book without me noting they’ve done so. An example would be Aleeks comparing sating the quickening with Miri to the same occurrence between his younger sister Zondra and her human mate, Evan Duncan.

Mind you, I suspected then that Zondra and Evan would eventually have a story of their own, but a check of the active memory banks later... No, it wasn’t available for the conscious mind to tap into yet. So, I kept writing CLOSE ENOUGH TO HUMAN and resigned myself to the fact that Zondra and Evan would tell me their story when they were ready to.

Before the end of CETH, I realized that I had a forward-moving series that would include books about children of the Daahn nest and possibly even grandchildren of the same. But I realized I also had a backward-moving series that would include Zondra’s book and even a book for Daahn the Elder and his mate...and a sideways moving series that would include books about other Xxanian families. The threads woven into CETH led in all directions, and the picture would grow around the first book, necessitating prequel books.

In their own ways, characters in earlier books hint to me that certain events -- past, present, and future -- will be important in a larger world view. If I’d waited to publish CLOSE ENOUGH TO HUMAN until I’d written and published the prequels in chronological order, I might or might not have made it into the all the other books from the Xxan War world I have in progress now; the impetus of edits on one book in a series sometimes jogs the mind into high gear on other books in the same series.

In this case, I’d already started writing Zondra and Evan’s story (MATING SEASON) before I hit edits on CLOSE ENOUGH TO HUMAN, but in editing MATING SEASON, the muse kicked me in the head and pointed the way to two more Xxan War works that are screaming at me and hitting the active writing process with a vengeance. Those two are SUBDOMINANT and CROSSBRED SON. Both of them direct the readers to other Xxanian nests that are closely allied to Daahn’s nest and set concurrent to or closely after CLOSE ENOUGH TO HUMAN.

In some cases, I don’t even realize the weaving is set in place for a new story. In the case of CROSSBRED SON, it grew out of a subconscious game of what-if that started with an unanswerable question posed in MATING SEASON. I didn’t even realize I intended to answer that question, let alone in detail, at the time the question appeared in MATING SEASON.

But my brain is something of a pattern matching algorithm in motion. It hates an unanswered question, so the question percolated in the subconscious. Two characters stepped forward, tentatively raised hands, and said: “We know the answer to that one. Do you want to know?” Whether I want to or not (and I’m curious, so I usually do want to know), the muse wants to know, and she and her whip will not rest until the answer is in print and smiling up at me.

Available now from LooseId! MATING SEASON, the second book (but a prequel) in the Xxan War series.

Or cut your teeth on the first installment, CLOSE ENOUGH TO HUMAN!

Steamcon II

This weekend I'm at Steamcon II in Seattle. I had the privilege of attending Steamcon I last year and had a great time so I'm happy to be back this year. I'm also happy to report that the con has improved and is even more fun. It's a steampunk convention. For those who don't know what "steampunk" is, I highly suggest you look it up and take a gander at some of the many and varied images available across the net. It's great fun. Kind of sci-fi, kind of fantasy, kind of historical but not really any of them. As long as you adhere to a few basic principles, steampunk can be almost anything.

In fact, I have a steampunk story myself. When Sursein Judgment came out in '09, I was afraid to give it the full label of steampunk so I called it "steampunk-ish". Since then, I've learned more and I'm pretty sure the label is apt. The one thing that's off is that it doesn't take in our world. But it is a Victorian/Wild West type of setting complete with steam trains, revolvers and gas lighting.

Thanks to this weekend, I've started to develop some real ideas for a sequel to Sursein Judgment. I won't be able to work on it until the end of next year at the earliest, but it's cool that some ideas are finally solidifying.

If you ever get a chance to check out Steamcon, I highly recommend. If nothing else, you can spend a few lovely hours watching the terrific costumes.

BLOOD HEAT by Josh Lanyon

I forgot what I was blabbing about around the time of my last release -- I think perhaps the release fell between blogging dates -- ennnywhoooo (as my dear old gran used to say) I'm in that headlong rush to meeting a deadline and I thought I'd be a slacker this morning and just plug my latest LI release, Blood Heat.

Blood Heat is the third book in the Dangerous Ground series. That's the one about the two DSS agents who find their partnership and friendship endangered when one of them decides he's in love with the other. Matters come to a head (NO, don't say it) during a camping trip in the High Sierras.

It's the "hot tub story," in other words.




Dangerous Ground was followed by Old Poison AKA "the phone sex story" also known as "the cobra in a bottle" story (and that is NOT a sexual reference, for the record). I find in this genre that books are often referred to by...uh...specific scenes of intimacy. I'm sure that's just for convenience sake.

Not sure how readers will refer to Blood Heat. The "speeding bullet story?" The "flash flood story?" Certainly there are plenty of speeding bullets and a flash flood. Anyway, book three finds Will and Taylor on the run again. I hope you have as much fun reading as I did writing!

978-1-60737-869-3
Genre: LGBT Action/Adventure
Length: Novella
Series: Dangerous Ground; Previous Book: Old Poison
Price: $4.99

BLURB:
Special Agents for the Department of Diplomatic Security, Taylor MacAllister and Will Brandt have been partners forever and lovers for three months, but their new relationship is threatened when Will is offered a plum two-year assignment in Paris.

Will believes the posting only means postponing what they both want. Taylor fears that kind of separation will mean the end of their new and still-fragile relationship. It’s a bad time to find themselves in the middle of the New Mexico wilderness responsible for the health and welfare of a suspected terrorist. Especially when everyone else they run into seems determined to see their prisoner -- and them -- dead.

EXCERPT:
According to Taylor’s watch, it was after six in the morning by the time they started down the far side of the mountain and found the black SUV mired in mud up to its custom rims.

By then the rain had stopped and the water had receded considerably. The canyon road was a knee-high swamp of debris and water, but the danger was past.
“It could be anyone’s vehicle,” Will called as Taylor splashed through the water to peer through the tinted side windows.

“Sure,” Taylor said. “Who doesn’t go on vacation without taking their leg irons?”
Will joined him in the water-filled ruts at the side of the road, making a frame for his face and trying to see inside. “Are you sure?” He could just make out a baseball bat, what looked like a military utility bag, and, yes, metallic links that appeared to be leg shackles. “Hmm. You just might be right.”

“I guess someone could have kinky tastes.”

“You ought to know.”

Taylor grimaced.

“Which is one of the things I like best about you,” Will added.

“Just a born diplomat, aren’t you? No wonder you’re climbing through the ranks.”
Will had no reply to that. They sloshed through the water and clambered back to the relatively dry area of the hillside.

A flash of blue caught Will’s eye. A blue jay landed on the branch of a pine tree and greeted the morning with its harsh song. The sun was rising, and it was already growing warm. The receding floodwater had a dank, unhealthy smell to it.

Taylor wiped his forehead. “Which way do you think they went?”

“Assuming they aren’t lost or didn’t get swept away, they’ll be heading the same direction we are. They need food, water, and shelter, the same as us.”

“Hedwig couldn’t climb these mountains. Could she?”

Will shrugged. “I guess if she had to, she would. I’ve seen pregnant weight lifters. In magazines.”

“She didn’t look like the athletic type to me.”

“Maybe Nemov carried her. He looked like he could.”

“He looked like he could carry his SUV. I don’t know why he didn’t.” Taylor had his BlackBerry out and was clicking away and frowning at the results. Or lack of same.
“You’re not going to get any reception down here.”

Taylor muttered something uncomplimentary, though whether to the national forest or Will was unclear.

They began to walk, continuing at a brisk pace until the sun appeared over the trees. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky. Pine needles glistened and sparkled in the pure sunlight.

“You have to admit this is beautiful country,” Will said, shading his eyes and gazing up at the distant snowcapped mountains.

Taylor opened his mouth -- though it was unlikely he was going to admit anything of the kind -- when something big, mottled brown and gray burst out of the brush and took wing, gobbling in fright.

He jumped a foot and gazed openmouthed at Will. “Jesus. What was that?”

Will dropped against a tree trunk and tried not to laugh. He didn’t really have the breath to spare, but Taylor’s half-alarmed, half-offended expression struck him as hysterically funny.

“Wild turkey. A hen, I think. You should see the size of the toms.”

“No thanks. I prefer my turkeys on a Thanksgiving platter.”

Again, Will had to struggle not to laugh.

They resumed their hike, having found what looked like an old track. Possibly a former stagecoach route. It paralleled the highway for a time and then led up into the hills. It was Will who spotted the two sets of footprints in the mud. One large, one smaller.

“That answers one question. They both made it out of the flash flood.”

Taylor nodded. He looked as relieved as Will felt. “They’ll have holed up somewhere ahead of us on the trail. No way did he drag a pregnant woman up and down a mountainside in the middle of a rainstorm at night -- even if he wanted to. She’d never have made it.”

“Maybe he doesn’t need her to make it.”

Taylor stared at him, thinking it over. He shook his head. “In that case, I think he’d have taken advantage of the flood to arrange a fatal accident. Plenty of opportunity. Especially if he left her handcuffed. Get her halfway up the slope and then give her a little push. Oops.”

“You worry me sometimes.”

“Good.” Taylor grinned a brief and dangerous grin.


Buy from Loose Id

http://www.joshlanyon.com/
http://jgraeme2007.livejournal.com/
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/JoshLanyon
Twitter: @JoshLanyon

New Release: Breathe by Sloan Parker

Breathe
by Sloan Parker

Genre: LGBT Suspense (m/m)
Length: Novel Plus
Cover Artist: Valerie Tibbs



Available now at
Loose Id

BREATHE is the story of two small-town strangers who meet and discover an undeniable attraction only to learn a little too late they never should have met at all. Or so they think.

One man’s wife was killed in a car accident a year before the story begins. The other man is the one who caused the accident that took her life. They are (hopefully) two very likable guys stuck in an impossible situation.

For me this story is about forgiveness, love, and the power of both to make a huge difference in our lives. I hope anyone who picks up a copy enjoys Lincoln and Jay's story. I had a wonderful experience writing it.


BLURB

Lincoln McCaw lost everything -- his home, his job, his partner -- after he caused a fatal accident. A year later, he's drowning the guilt and despair in whiskey, but he needs to move on. His sister and her kids are counting on him. Then he meets a man who ignites a passion Lincoln thought he’d never find. Too bad one night is all they can have together. Now he needs to figure out how to turn away from the only person who makes him feel alive…before whoever is
sending him threats decides Lincoln needs to suffer more than he already has.

Jay Miller is surrounded by grief and misery until he finally gives in to all those years of sexual fantasies about being with another guy. Realizing he’s ended up in the arms of the man who caused his wife’s accident, he tries to pull away. But how can he give up a friendship he needs more than anything -- a friendship and a love that could save him? He may not have time to make the choice before someone else destroys it all.

Read an excerpt and purchase at Loose Id

On Becoming a Reader

A few weeks ago on Twitter there was a question going around that asked what books from your childhood made you a reader. I thought of a few children’s books that I loved reading over and over, but one of the authors who really stood out for me was Stephen King.

If you asked my mother what one word described me as a child it would probably be “scared.” I had terrible nightmares throughout my early school years, which (along with a vivid imagination) left me scared to go to bed at night for about three years. My mom banned me watching any movies or television shows she thought would feed the monsters in my head.

But she didn’t say I couldn’t sneak into my brother’s room and read his Stephen King novels. My mom was a librarian, after all. I don’t think telling us we couldn’t read something even entered her mind.

So I did.

I wanted to do anything that my big brother did.

He was a huge reader. Still is. And he was also my childhood hero. (Here’s a picture of us as kids). I adored him. (Even if he was a pain sometimes.) I’d follow him around and do whatever he asked me to do. It was kinda crazy, but hey, I was a kid growing up on a farm. Not much to do in the middle of a couple of corn fields.

My bro’s all-time favorite author then (and now) was Stephen King. I wanted to love King’s books too. Which of course meant I needed to read them.

I never had much time sitting on the floor of my brother’s room, listening for the sound of footsteps in the hall. In those days, I only managed to read a few chapters here and there, but the memory of those reading experiences stayed with me.

I’m not sure if it was doing something like my big brother, the few descriptions that I was able to sneak a peek at before my brother got home from basketball practice, or my family’s love of reading that shaped me into a reader. I’m just grateful something did.

So what made you a reader? Any books or authors from your childhood that hold a special place in your heart?

Sloan Parker
www.sloanparker.com

Sexcapades and Stories

Hey all,

It's been a great month since we last met.  I've finished up several stories, gotten a bunch of fantastic guests scheduled on my blog through the middle of next year and settled in for good over here in Macau.

I've begun work on my hottest story yet.  I mean, I'd been in the mood for a lot of hot sexy interaction and this newest book is all of that.  I won't give anything away, but let's just say one fire extinguisher won't be enough. 

Now, I love to write all kinds of stories and if sex isn't a part of one, that's okay too.  It depends on the tale I'm telling, the characters and my mood. 

One of my best selling series started with a book with no sex at all.  It  wasn't until the end of the second book that the couple finally got together and only when the STORY called for it.  I've written Christian stories, sweet romance, sensual tales and straight erotica, but all have one thing in common. 

The story is what is important.

When I start out to dream a new book, I never know what's going to happen.  And I often am surprised at what I come up with.  So, when I started this new one and it turned out to be highly erotic, I had to pause and consider.  Why this story more that any other?

Well, like I said, I hadn't done one that was really erotic for awhile.  And my mood lately has been down right naughty.  So maybe that's why the dreams are all a little different.  Why I'm thinking more is better.  And luckily my characters have been okay with that.  

So now each day I sit down to write, I wonder just what sexy dream will come my way.  And what fun I will have doing the research for it.  *grin*

And I invite you all to join me.  Check out my WEBSITE and see what stories I have available.  You can tell the really hot ones by the number of fire extinguishers it has.  And if you want a sample, you can try out my FREE READS.  Two on my website's FREEBIE page one ongoing one on my NEWSLETTER and my twice a week read on my FREE READ BLOG.  All will give you an idea of how I write and the different heat levels I write in.

But I'm always looking for ideas.  And many of my stories are dedicated to the readers who shared their awesome ideas with me.  So, now is your chance.  Tell me a sexy story idea you've always wished you could read about.

And if I use it, I'll not only dedicate the book to you, I'll give you a FREE copy when it's published!  Use the comment box below and let's see where your dreams and imagination will take me!

Blessings to all,

CJ England

Follow Your Dreams

http://cjengland.com/warrior/morethanawarrior.htm

http://cjengland.com

http://groups.yahoo.com/group/CJsaysFollowYourDreams/

The Nobleman and the Spy

Summer Devon and Bonnie Dee present another m/m historical, The Nobleman and the Spy. We've enjoyed writing these and sure hope you enjoy reading them.

They once faced each other on a battlefield. Now soldier-turned-spy Jonathan Reese must keep watch over the man he’s never forgotten. A close encounter reveals Karl von Binder, the count’s son, also recalls the day he spared Jonathan’s life. Sparks fly between the former enemies and Jonathan begins to lose perspective on his mission. He knows he must maintain distance because the heat he encounters in Karl’s touch stirs him far too deeply for his own good. He can’t keep away--especially when he suspects someone is trying to kill the nobleman.

The spy becomes a protector as Jonathan guards the man he’s begun to care for. Together the men try to puzzle out who would benefit from Karl’s death—and how much they’re willing to trust each other when a torrid sexual fling threatens to become an affair of the heart.

Excerpt

Toole had told Reese to use whatever methods worked. It hadn’t occurred to Reese to simply state a portion of the truth, but why not?

He’d have to pick an answer that didn’t reveal too much, of course. After almost a week of following Binder, he could tell the man all sorts of truths. He might tell him that he’d spotted someone -- a foreigner from Binder’s own country, perhaps -- following the count’s son.

Or Reese could spill even deeper secrets. That his dried-up twig of a soul felt an unfamiliar flicker of life every time he saw Binder laugh. That he’d listened in on the conversations Binder held with his underlings and had grown to admire the way he treated his servants and staff. That he lay awake at night and thought of what it would feel like to put his mouth on Binder’s lips and other parts of his body. He might admit that, in a crowd, he’d drawn too close to Binder more than once just to see if he could smell the man.

Except Reese had excellent self-discipline. He’d released the guard on his impulses only once in his life and had lived to regret it. He sure as hell didn’t welcome this attraction to an enemy from the past, this very dangerous man.

Still, one truth would do no harm, and perhaps he’d be able to learn the answer to the question that had nagged him for years. “You’re right. I was at Sevastopol. Why do you think you remember me?” He didn’t add for I recall you too.

Binder’s blue eyes glowed, and he smiled as if Reese had admitted something wonderful. “I don’t understand it myself. That day of the battle. God.” He shuddered, and Reese felt a ghost of that same response in his own body. “There were hundreds -- thousands of us -- and it was a blur of bodies and pain and fear. My horse was slain under me. I was injured.”
Reese shook his head. He hadn’t known.

“Much of it comes back when I close my eyes. I expect it does for you too,” Karl went on. “But one of the most vivid images of that day, of that whole bloody, pointless war, is of you. You’d lost your cap, and you were covered in blood. I was looking for more…” He cleared his throat. “For the next to kill. I was filled with that lust. You know the feeling.”

Reese couldn’t answer. He knew and loathed the primal killing instinct that overtook him whenever he’d had to dispatch another man. He shrugged.

“And then I saw you watching me.”

Reese leaned forward, his entire being at attention. At long last it seemed he was going to receive an answer to the intolerable question -- why me? Of all the men in the field that day, why had this stranger passed him over like the angel of death in Egypt?

“Yes, I admit I recall seeing you. What of that?” he asked with feigned casualness. Amazing he could sound so nonchalant when his heart was racing. “Tell me this. Why did you spare me?”

Binder inclined slightly toward him too and lowered his voice as he answered, his throaty rumble sending lust spearing through Reese. “Because I saw your eyes. I saw…” He shrugged broad shoulders.

Reese tilted his head to show he listened, and Binder went on. “I saw so many things. I saw myself when I watched you. So self-centered, eh? Angry, passionate, and ready to die. But I also saw a man who’d suffered too much. And, well…” He rubbed a blunt finger over the lace tablecloth. Reese watched those hands, large with golden hair on the back of his wrist, and he was almost too distracted by the sight of them to hear Binder’s next words. “I saw what a bloody monster I’d become.”

He stopped speaking, and for once, Reese wasn’t patient enough to let silence linger. “We were all bloody monsters in war.”

He should not allow his thoughts to venture in that direction. Curse the man for rousing the emotion of unwelcome memories. With one long, deep breath, Reese suppressed the ripples of disquiet disturbing his calm. He looked straight into Binder’s face, but the other man didn’t appear to notice. His blue eyes seemed sightless as he gazed at something else, those days in Sevastopol, probably.

Reese could examine him at leisure, a pleasant task. Even with Binder’s large, Germanic features, there were touches of grace -- the way his throat rose from the high collar, the line of his jaw, and the well-brushed, gleaming, wheat blond hair.

His enemy’s low voice woke Reese from a fantasy of touching that hair, stroking it, seizing it, and gripping it while he drove into the heat of the man’s mouth. His carnal fantasies about this man were getting out of hand.
“Ah. But your face, your eyes.” Binder at last met Reese’s stare. “Do you know the word tzadik?”

Reese knew German, but this word was unfamiliar. He shook his head.

“It’s Yiddish. It means ‘one who acts righteously.’ Back then I didn’t know the word. I’m not Jewish.”

Reese knew that. He’d read the details of the man who’d been born to an English mother and a German Catholic father and who had been brought up in the Church of England.

“After the war, I heard a bit of the definition -- just a little -- and at once I imagined you. That day on the battlefield, your eyes sent a burning arrow into me. If a man’s eyes could do such a thing, you would have killed me -- a part of me -- with that look. I saw the righteous judge who’d witnessed my failure as a human. I couldn’t face you, and I certainly couldn’t kill you.”

His explanation was weighty and far more truthful than Reese would have expected.

“All that from a look,” Reese said sardonically, though he felt slightly dizzy. Through all these years, he’d also vividly recalled Binder, as if that scene were a fresh memory.

A moment later, Binder grinned suddenly, and his laugh lines showed Reese the man’s natural face -- lighthearted, almost mischievous. Reese had already seen evidence of his mercurial nature, but this jump from grim to delighted was sudden, even for Binder.

“You are amused?” Reese asked.

“Now that I consider the matter, I wonder if I simply liked your appearance, blood-smeared and all. It was an impulsive decision to spare you. Shall we call it that?”

Jesus God, was this man admitting to physical attraction? Reese suppressed the urge to look around and see who might be listening. He was no green lad who would blush at bawdy suggestions -- even those of forbidden practices -- but this was no place to mention them. He smiled blandly but didn’t answer, as if he’d heard no suggestive meaning -- and perhaps one had not been intended.

“So, tell me why you are following me,” Binder demanded, abruptly changing the subject.