We are living in unusual times, aren't we?  Who knew it would take a worldwide pandemic to draw people and countries together in ways we couldn't imagine.  Seems life and death situations cause people and countries to reevaluate priorities in the face of an enemy that can kill indiscriminately.

The Forgotten Worlds series are sci-fi stories set in an equally unusual time.  Humanity as we know it on this planet is gone and the last remnants of that world have banded with augmented humans (SUVIs) and aliens to create a new society.  Floating through the galaxies, they face many difficulties as they struggle to survive.

Unite is the latest installment in this series.  The SUVIs and their companions meet a new people and once again find themselves on the defensive.  And as usual, they end up learning as much about themselves as they do this new world, its gods and tribes.

Sometimes, even the littlest ones in the fleet can steal center stage!

On another note, I've been working on some new stories in the fantasy genre and will be posting more about this in the coming weeks. Stay tuned!

And of course stay safe!  Follow the guidelines of your local public health officials, practice social distancing, wash your hands often and take good care.  

Oh, and read books.  Lots, and lots of books.  <grin>

​Cheers!
Prudence
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Writing stories is what I do and love.  But writing stories alone, doesn't produce books.

My partner draws a parallel between writing and quilting.  She loves gathering fabrics: pre-cuts like squares and strips as well as something she calls "fat quarters".  To me they are a collection of pretty bits of cloth.  To her, they are are the beginning elements of something larger and far more beautiful.  In her mind, she can see them take shape even before she breaks out her rotary cutter and mat.

It's the same for me when I sit to a keyboard.  The story flows through me onto the page.  I feel it taking shape in my heart.  I hear the characters' voices in my head.  And my hands do the work of getting it all written down.

But much like piecing a quilt top doesn't produce a finished quilt, writing a story doesn't make a book. I'm a storyteller not a book maker.  A book needs editing, rewriting, more editing and more rewriting, a great cover and a publisher who knows what she's doing.

Some writers try to do all of these tasks themselves.  They are the brave, multi-talented souls among us and I bow in awe of their greatness!  I on the other hand have been fortunate to have some a small team who works with me to bring my stories to market. -

It's can be hard for a writer to give up their "baby" to an editor's critical eye (or in this case eyes as I have more than one editor), especially if that editor comes back and tells me I have an ugly baby that desperately needs a bath.  Seriously though, working with editors who know me as an individual has helped as I know they care about me and my stories.  It has made it easier to receive feedback telling me I've "betrayed the reader on this page", "almost wasted a perfectly good hero" or that "there's no way she (hero) would ever say that".  Yup, my editors don't muck around.

Then once the story has been sanded and polished, it's time for a cover.  That can be so difficult.  As the writer, you have a feel for your story and how it might be presented to the world.  And when you think you've done a great job communicating your vision, the first cover draft appears in your inbox and you're left wondering what the hell happened.  Words even from a wordsmith sometimes fall short in adequately describing one's vision.  Thankfully my cover artist also cares about me and my stories.  :-)

Finally, I have a package ready for my publisher and send it off.  She does her bit plugging me into her network and getting my book out to sellers worldwide. By this time of course, I'm already working on other stories.  I wait anxiously to see what response my latest offering will elicit.  And I mull over my next blog post.  My "job" is done while she battles pirate sites that steal her clients' work while promoting new books and authors as best she can.

So the next time you read a story from your favorite author and begin clamoring for the follow-up, know there will be an incubation period so to speak, even if the story is already in their head.  It is a team effort all the way.

Now back to my keyboard!

I’ve often been asked which of the characters from my books is my favorite.  That’s a tough one. For me, they all are, but there is one who does hold a special place in my heart.  She’s part mischief maker and part warrior. She is the Lady Hawk.

What’s so special about her?  She’s hard working, intelligent, fierce and protective, yet full of fun.  Dr. Rhonda Stockman, veterinarian, accidentally became a were-hawk, and the world hasn’t been the same since.  
We first meet her at the end of Vampire’s Lair, book three in the Children of the Wild series where she is about to discover she is not alone:
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Bill Walker had finished his morning stroll around the perimeter of the two farms. He grinned to himself as he watched Olla trot back to the castle in wolf form. Once she’d disappeared through the gate he glanced at the sky. The hawk still soared high above.
“Every instinct I’ve got tells me you’re one of them. Are you planning to come down here and talk to me or not?” The bird just lay on the air currents, gazing down at him. “All right tell you what. You folk always come up buck naked when you shift back to human. I know that not everybody is as comfortable that way as Olla and Torvil, so I’ll leave the upper door of the barn open, and I’ll hang a robe on a nail for you. You know, just in case you decide you want to talk.
“I’ll just go for that robe now.” He grinned as he turned away. Bill was fully aware as the bird swept down to perch on a nearby tree to keep an eye on him. He disappeared into the house for a moment then returned carrying a white bathrobe. He carried it to the barn then hung it on a peg just inside the door. He turned back and walked out of the barn.
Bill was startled as the hawk swept from the tree and past his head, nearly knocking his hat off. He spun around to see the bird morph into a naked woman just as it alit. Her bare feet touched the floor and in a single stride she had the robe about her shoulders and was tying the belt loosely about her waist.
Doing his best to remain calm, he watched her step towards him. Swallowing hard, Bill found his voice. “Mornin’, miss. Name’s Bill Walker. Is there anything I can get for you?”
Amber eyes that were slowly turning blue watched him closely. She seemed to shake herself then spoke hesitantly, as though she wasn’t accustomed to human speech anymore. “I’d kill for a cup of coffee.”
“Right this way, ma’am. I’ll put on a fresh pot.” He led her into the farmhouse kitchen then dutifully began to build up a pot of coffee. “You like it strong?”
“Not too strong, please, Mr. Walker.”
“Bill, call me Bill. Medium brew is my favorite too.” He started the machine then brought mugs, cream and sugar to the table. He sat across the table from her and smiled. “Thanks for dropping in. I was starting to worry you might be a government agent or something.”
That brought a smile to her face. “I was once,” replied the athletic looking woman, “in a manner of speaking. I was a wildlife officer up until a few weeks ago.”
“Oh? What happened? Quit the job?”
“No, you know damn well what happened.”
“Actually, I know what you are, but, not how you managed to get there, or when it happened.”
“Really, so just what am I, Mr. Bill Walker?”
“I imagine the answer to that would be a were-hawk. You know, a human who can change into an animal. Actually we call them non-humans.”
“So, you believe I can change back into the hawk again? Back and forth at will?”
“Convinced of it. I take it this is something new for you.”
“Yes. I was trying to free a hawk from a power line when someone turned the power back on. I felt the jolt of electricity, and the hawk sank it’s beak into my neck at the same time. We fell onto a rock that exploded into a green mist and I passed out from the pain. The next thing I knew I was looking down at the world.
“It took a number of days for me to clear my mind of the hawk’s natural drives.”
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The Children of the Wild series began as a bit of a dare.  A friend challenged me to do a different take on vampires, so I wrote Immortal Tigress.  That was followed by a second prompt, “Okay, now do werewolves different.”  I wrote Children of the Wolf, book two in the series.  By then I had fallen in love with the characters.  Lady Hawk appeared in book three, and by book five she had completely taken over.
But that’s okay of course.  I’m happiest writing with my favorite characters sitting on my shoulder.

One of my most popular series is an urban fantasy collection -
The Children of the Goddess - featuring young women who have found their power, and a new purpose. 

Meet Penny, the heroine of Book I in the series.  Penny faced a lot of emotional abuse as a child, and that will color her attitudes for the rest of her life.  In the excerpt below, she has taken the first steps in breaking free of her past and is now a teenager living on the street. But she is not helpless, make no mistake.

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“That’s all I’ve got. Things have been slow, and my wife needed medicine…” 

“Listen Frank, you know the rules. Five hundred per week and life’s good. Anything less and this place is off the protection list. Who knows what might happen then,” as he finished speaking he swept a display from the counter onto the floor. The old fellow tried to catch what he could, but the big man grabbed him by the collar and pulled him halfway across the counter. Before he could speak, there was a soft voice from behind them. 

“Let him go.” The two men spun around to see a teenage girl in baggy clothes setting her backpack on the floor. 

“Get out of here kid, while you still can,” snarled one of the men. 

“You don’t want to do this.” Penny’s voice was steady as she stepped away from the backpack. “Just leave now and there’s no problem.” 

“Stupid brat,” snarled one of the men as he swung a huge hand out to slap her face. His day took a very bad turn at that point.

​With a move too fast to follow, she grabbed his wrist in her right hand and drove her left into his elbow, shattering the joint. As he howled in pain the back of his knee was kicked, and as he fell forward, his face was driven into floor, breaking his nose. Before his partner could fully react, a fist crashed into his solar plexus, driving the air from his lungs and rendering him helpless. The door of the store crashed open and the two men were hurled against the shiny car outside, where they fell heavily to the pavement. 

“They have guns,” warned the old fellow, as Penny shifted down off combat mode. 

“Not anymore.” She smiled as she pulled the two guns from her waist band and put them on the counter. “Maybe you should get rid of those.” 

“What are you?” asked the old fellow as he tried to back away from her. 

“Hungry,” she replied with a grin. “I was coming in to see if I could get something to eat. I don’t have much, but I have a few dollars. Do you have sub sandwiches?”

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And so began her new career, doing what wasn’t ever done for her: defending the weak. 

Her name’s Penny, but on the street, they call her Lady Blue.

Have a great day!
Pru​