Valerean

Following the creaky tradition I had while writing PBW , I thought I'd take a look back at 2019. Okay, so all the bad stuff first. I had surgery to repair a jaw I didn't realize was broken, lost eight teeth, slipped three discs in my neck and had to give up sewing and quilting for a month while working on straightening out my spine. My guy got (treatable) skin cancer. All that was the personal worst. I had not planned to move my blogging back to Blogger, but Tumblr started censoring my G-rated posts about quilting as inappropriate/adult content. Meanwhile, every pornographer taking X-rated shots kept showing up, and some of them followed me. Euw. Then people on Tumblr figured out who I was and started asking me for money. I finally decided I'd better move. Best decision I made all year. I decided to keep this version of Valerean secret, so it could be just for trusted friends. I don't want to be a public figure anymore. So far that's worked, and I'

Happy 25th Birthday, Katherine.

A couple of weeks ago I got this slip from a fortune cookie in our Chinese take-out order. Aside from obviously illustrating that the author of said fortune is probably not a native English speaker, it made a little lightbulb go off in my head. Eventually the sentiment made its way into Chapter Twelve of Twenty-One . Why? Don't know. Just did. That's how inspiration works. This pic captures one of the most important moments in my creative and spiritual life . Six years after it did, from memory only, it inspired this: Not all inspiration is funny or pretty. I don't have a picture of one of these, but the DOT in Florida will by request erect a memorial marker on or near a spot where a motorist died in a car accident (I think they can only do it on public land.) These markers are white circles inscribed "Drive Safely, In Memory" followed by the deceased's name. Unfortunately I live quite close to a couple of very dangerous roads, so they'

Sorry to be so late posting this. Life. Anyway, I put the four story ideas that Theo and Maria voted for in a hat -- okay, a little bowl -- and had my guy draw the winning idea. Which is (drum roll, please): #8: Haunted House Style , the sequel to Ghost Writer . That'll be the first story I work on in 2020. I will also add to the queue the other three ideas you liked, and tackle those after HHS is finished. Thanks for helping me get started on doing my own thing again. :)

Last night the insomnia kicked in again. I'm taking a little break from quilting, so I got out the watercolors my friend Maria sent me. I had a couple of plain but nice craft boxes I wanted to recycle into prettier gift boxes, and crazy quilting on my mind: Some hours later: I'll put up the results of the idea vote later today. Theo, you're the only one who has voted so far (and I know everyone is busy with the holidays, so no problem.) Looks like you might get one of your wishes. :)

It's my favorite day of the year! Ha. Today I'd like to know which of the twelve ideas of Christmas you'd like me to write first in 2020. I plan to get to all of these ideas eventually, btw, so however the vote turns out your pick will likely make it to the page. To review the choices one more time, here they are (and click on them if you want to read the original idea post for each one): 1. Falling , featuring Kyan and Melanie from Twilight Fall . 2. Chrysalis , the love story between Éliane Selvais and Richard Tremayne from the original Darkyn series. 3. The Inheritance , a haunted house story. 4. Castling , an epic fantasy novel based on chess. 5. The Moonrise paranormal romance trilogy featuring Ethan and Nathan Jemmet, Valori Trovatella and the residents of Frenchman's Pass from Frostfire . 6. Her Majesty's Deathmage , the third novel in the Disenchanted & Company steampunk AH series. 7. Executive Pleasures a non-traditional steamy m

Merry Christmas from Valerean. Image by InspiredImages from Pixabay

For the last 12 months I've been saving every single scrap of fabric and thread leftover from my quilting in one place. Because I'm cheap I try not to waste any fabric, but trimming inevitably creates scraps. As is my habit I used many of the scraps I generate for other projects this year. The real purpose was to discover how much textile waste I personally produce in one year that I didn't reuse. Here is the result for 2019, sorted into bags by size and type: I'd say it's about three pounds of scraps. I can still reuse everything except these two bags: The bag on the left is thread and fabric snips from my thread catcher, and the bag on the right are fabric pieces too thin to reuse for sewing. It's much less than I thought; maybe about eight ounces of waste in total. I could use these scraps as stuffing for a pin cushion, or material for a mixed-media art project, or even embellishments for my journal pages, so there's still a chance I can put

Black and White Judging by the wheel ruts the caravan came through while I was working in the darkhouse, and dumped the body where I’d see it soon as I came out. Tinkas sold any healthy stray they caught alive, and burned the ones they found diseased or dead, so it had to be a cripple or a screamer. They also knew I took in both. Lindy came hobbling down the steps while I stood over it. “Wha’s tha, Dae?” “Tinkas left it.” I handed her the basket of tubers I’d dug up for dinner. “Tell Les scrub these good. I’ll be out back a while.” They’d swaddled it like a child, but when I hoisted it over my shoulder it unfolded into bigger and heavier. Smelled scorched something awful, like they’d tried to burn it then gave up halfway along. It didn’t twitch or make a sound, but I could feel its chest moving. I carried it out back to my fixing shed, where I had all what I needed for mending hurts. Wasn’t much, but I had wood and straps to splint breaks, gut and needles to stitch ga

Another one of those I-never-got-to-finish series was the Youngbloods, my only YA books. I had a trilogy planned, but they only offered me a two-book contract. After multiple problems with the editors, some pretty serious, we decided to part ways after book two. I now own the rights to both books, so I could repackage them and sell them myself, but there wouldn't be much point without a third book to finish the trilogy. The third Youngbloods book is Idea #11.

From the Taken by Night synopsis: Former top fashion designer Ara Chenault’s life was destroyed when she was changed by the Morxa, and went from creating couture to becoming a merciless, monstrous killer. Ara finally strikes a bargain with the Morxa who invaded her: in exchange for control Ara must free other mortals from Morxa possession, kill those who can’t be saved, and take revenge on an ancient, evil immortal who changed Ara’s morxa from human to monster. By day Ara now runs a garment factory in the fashion district; by night she hunts the morxa-possessed with her team of powerful Fury: Glory Patten, who never wanted her unearthly Sirenian beauty and seductive powers; ex-Marine Arturo Chavez, who each night morphs into the centaur Ceron, and who hates everything but Ara; and Kim Smith, whose Chimaeran morxa allows her to shape-shift, and who often can’t resist creating mischief and mayhem, too. The other Fury don’t know how Ara was changed, or by whom, but she refuses

Possession The priest had told me that I could do this because God had chosen me. Sometimes I blamed the Other Guy. Third floor, Father Joe had told me. First room to the left of the landing. The inside of the house looked like old people smell, but it was a beauty. I’d worked as an architect before the accident, so I could appreciate the old craftsmanship that went into these places. When I wasn’t doing my new gig. Some yuppies had moved in to start renovating the place, which was when the situation turned sour. The living do tend to stir up shit. A red scarf dangled from the banister; I stepped over one then a second black ankle boot. The former residents had left behind their scents, too – cherry pipe tobacco and a real sugary, girly flower perfume. “Bet she bitches at him about the pipe.” I felt a lot colder; the temperature seemed to drop with every step I took. I’d done a couple dozen of these houses already, but this one felt major. “When she’s not spending t

Chapter One Olivia Is this recorder on? Good. I am stating for the record that I did not kill Angus McShea. I never met the man, never heard of him before his murder, and never saw him after he escaped custody in Boston. Of course I saw the news broadcasts about his body being found on Julian Caine’s front doorstep. All that blood made it look like he’d painted his deck to match a red ‘Vette. But the body had already been removed. For your information I’ve never murdered anyone. I’ve been tempted to, but I always figured no one was worth going to the electric chair. Not even my ex-husband, whose continued presence on the same planet with me may be worse than me being electrocuted. You should know, however, that as soon as she gets out of prison I’m going to kill Emma Jones. She’d a dead woman walking, right now. No, you know, first I’m going to burn the novel we’ve been writing together, because she’s made it impossible for me to finish. Also, destroying it will make o

Finished the quilted tote for the baby's car seat quilt, which is the last official quilted project for 2019. I think it's cute, especially with the bunny print. I might tinker on some ideas after Christmas, but I really have to get some day-job work and Twenty-One finished.

Executive Pleasures “Rumor has it the big boss is flying in tomorrow from Paris,” Sally Lane said as she added too much sugar to her coffee. “Have you heard why?” “No, but it’s his company.” Jessica Hart finished stacking four coffee containers in a carrying tray. “He’s allowed.” Outside the towering skyscraper office snow began to fall, adding to the drifts already blanketing Chicago in white. Frost edged every window in crystal, while the wind off the lake playfully buffeted the heavily-bundled pedestrians. In a month it would be Christmas, which Jessica would be spending it alone – again. Maybe this year she’d use her vacation to go on a cruise somewhere warm, where she could sun herself by a pool and drink things out of coconuts and pineapples. She might even have a fling, if she could find a guy who wouldn’t expect her to do sexual cartwheels. Jessica imagined honestly introducing herself to a potential lover: Hi, I’m Jess. I’ve had exactly three lukewarm relationsh

Our pup Cole is doing very well after his surgery. The vet had to extract two teeth and drain the abcess, which is now almost gone. He's on four different meds, but the infection is under control and he's not showing any sign that he's in pain (but we're giving him Tramadol just in case he's being brave.) No collar of doom this time, thank heavens. Last night he ate for the first time since he got home, so that's all the Christmas present I need. I can't seem to sleep or stop quilting (definitely due to nerves) so I took an orphan block I bought from Jen at KnJ Studio and bordered it with a cute bunny print to make the front of a gift bag for Oliver's car seat quilt. I quilted the patchwork with three colors of holographic Sulky, and tonight I plan to finish the bag.

Her Majesty's Deathmage , the third novel in the Disenchanted & Company series, bit the dust when I lost my job with NY. For a time I toyed around with the idea of writing and self-publishing it. My pal Maria Zannini was kind enough to do some artwork for me. Ultimately the demands of going freelance shelved the whole project. Her Majesty's Deathmage is Idea #6.

The Moonrise Trilogy From Novel #1 Synopsis: No one in the outside world knows that the residents of Frenchman’s Pass, a remote Colorado mountain town, are Ahnclann, immortal wolf-like beasts who take human form in daylight. Town sheriff Ethan Jemmet wants to keep it that way, too. Although a quirk of genetics has kept Ethan forever locked in a human body, he knows only too well the dangers of exposing the town’s secrets. In human form the Ahnclann are almost as vulnerable as any mortal, but as beasts they are unparalleled hunter-killers. The only human Ethan trusts is his lover, Valori Trovatella, whose erotic effect on him is as strong as her unwavering loyalty and affection. Ethan wants Lori as his mate, but she’s still a stranger to his people, who distrust her. Colleen Clayton, an Ahnclann female who has always wanted Ethan, stirs up trouble by claiming that Lori is only interested in selling out the pack to the human world. Ethan’s unruly twin brother Nathan only makes

My insomnia is raging again, so I spent my up-all-night hours finishing the car seat quilt for Oliver. I think it came out cute.

Castling S.L. Viehl Kaset bolted the door and leaned back against it, refusing to look at her. “You can stop pretending now.” Thienne didn’t answer him. A glance revealed she really was asleep. Do not disturb her. He’d do more than that, someday. But for now it was enough to walk to her, stand over her, and stare at her as much as he pleased. She was, quite simply, the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Beautiful and golden and delicate as an ice crystal. Deceitful and treacherous and as deadly as an elemental. A strange sound left her, and he backed away a few steps until she did it again. She was snoring. Was she drunk? Thienne certainly had a fondness for wine. But she’d never indulge it in front of her mother. No, she saved it for those occasions when he had to wait upon her. Kaset turned abruptly and tripped over a chamber rod someone had left on the floor. He fell against the table, causing a bottle of wine near the edge on the other side tipped over. Bef

The Inheritance “Lunch.” I handed my co-worker, Lucy, a wrapped sandwich. At her hurt look, I added, “It’s an all-veggie pita with no-fat dressing.” “I love you. If you weren’t a girl, I’d have your babies.” She stopped to rip paper and take a huge bite before taste-bliss made her lashes droop. “Oh, God. Maybe we could adopt.” Lucy had been dieting since high school; I knew because we’d been best friends since the first day of freshman year. I never kept any secrets from her, either, which was making it tough to decide what to tell her about my luncheon appointment. “So?” She took a bottle of protein water from her bag. “What happened at the bank?” “Nothing much.” I sat down in the client chair next to her desk and eyed the scuff mark on one side of my right shoe. “Anyone call?” In mid-chug, Lucy nodded and passed me a small stack of message slips. Because she was the world’s finest receptionist, they were all neatly and beautifully written, and because I was the he

September 29, 1991 Provence, France The last person Lia expected to see waiting in her dorm room frowned as he studied the neat rows of paperbacks she kept in her bookcase. “Why are you reading novels?” She placed her bag on the chair by the door, straightened, and linked her hands in front of her to disguise the way they were shaking. “I like them, Monsieur .” He turned his back on her and circled the room, inspecting the rest of her belongings. She didn’t have much; it only took another minute. The only thing he touched was the unfinished shawl in her wool basket, his long, elegant fingers resting on the crocheted loops as he stared through her tiny window. No wrinkles marred the back of his Savile Row jacket or spoiled the knife-edge creases of his trousers. The smooth-shaven dome of his head and the paleness of his skin made Lia think of a lightbulb that had gone dark. She could not ask him why he had come to the school; like all the other potentials she had been tau

As I mentioned back in October I have a lot of unfinished work in my archives, as well as plenty of as-yet-to-be-written books in my head. I'm planning to finish Twenty-One this month if possible. For 2020 I'd also like to write more of my own ideas in my spare time. The big question is, where do I start? After a five year hiatus there is a huge pile in the archives, so for the next twelve days I'm going to post my favorite ideas for you all to have a look. After Christmas I'd like to get your vote for what I should write first. To kick things off, today we have: One of the Darkyn stories I never had the chance to write was Falling , featuring Kyan and Melanie from Twilight Fall . They were the first outline I pitched for Lords of the Darkyn. Melanie was multiracial, and neither sweet nor wholesome. Kyan was Asian. Both of them played antagonists in the first series. Those are the reasons NY passed on a book for them. I've always thought that was

Over the last week Cole's face started swelling on the left side, with the bulge going up and down. We went to the vet this morning to see what was causing it. I was pretty sure it was an infection (cancer isn't that fast). Sure enough he has an abcessed tooth, possibly two, so antibiotics now and surgery to pull the tooth/teeth and drain the abcess next week. Then he'll probably have to wear the collar of doom until New Year's so he doesn't scratch at his face. See what I mean about my rotten luck during the holidays? At least it's fixable, so I'll consider that a gift from Santa. Added: The day after my car battery died we found out we have to rebuild the transmission on our pickup truck, leaving us with one very old vehicle to use until the 20th. On the 19th my guy also has his next round of skin cancer surgery. Dear Santa, please stop with the bad luck now, that's all I want for Christmas, thank you.

To the left here is a little water-colored muslin test piece I batted and backed to use for my first attempt at free-motion quilting, so I could see if I could manage it for Not So Little Project #2. To quilt in free motion you have to drop the feed dogs on your sewing machine, and move the fabric manually. I did that for about 5 minutes before my wrists said "Okay, we're done with this." I finished the rest by spinning the piece with the feed dogs up. Frankly I suck at machine quilting, but I really stink at free-motion machine quilting. It looks so easy in all those videos, but the reality is you have to manipulate three layers of fabric and batting with only the pressure of your hands and wrists. Mine are simply not up to the task. Also, moving a quilt as you're sewing and keeping the stitches even and a uniform length should be an Olympic sport. God, I had no idea it was that hard to do. When I think of all the dense free-motion quilted pieces I'v

The love of my life turns 70 today. Happy Birthday to my guy. :)

The other day my guy made the mistake of asking me why I'm not a fan of Christmas. I was busy, and I forgot engage the holidays filter first, so I told him. Thanks to my Christmas trick even he's never realized how many miserable holidays I've had. During the December when I was eight months pregnant with Katherine I got food poisoning -- the projectile vomiting kind -- after attending a family dinner party at my sister-in-law's house. I spent most of that Christmas on the floor in the bathroom alternately worshipping the porcelain goddess and being scared I'd go into labor too soon. On another Christmas Eve I fell down a flight of stairs while carrying presents for the kids down to my car. If I hadn't landed on the presents I probably would have broken my neck. The presents actually survived, but I broke my foot and three ribs. The Albino Robin Hood book cover mess happened during 2008's holiday season. Online I pretended to be a good sport a

For a long time now -- five years, to be exact -- I've been a writing contractor. After Publishing kicked me to the curb I went freelance and picked up basically any ghost writing job I could get. I was lucky; one of my first clients turned out to be a long-term gig with steady work that paid the bills. I dabbled in other writing work by becoming a copy writer, short serial writer and working for overseas publishers both as a ghost and under my own byline. Then I met my partner, and we went into business together full-time. I was able to stop freelancing and focus on one job. Giving up everything I wanted to write in order to have a regular income wasn't a problem. The challenges I faced as a freelancer and ghost writer kept me interested and engaged in my work. I also made sure to only take jobs that had some appeal for me, because there is nothing worse for a writer than working on something you dislike. I think I did well, considering, and I'm happy with the de

As the holidays approach us with all the subtlety of a sledge to the head, here are Ten Things I Do Not Want For Christmas Alexa or Anything Alexa Related: I use VRS all day to work. Trust me, the last thing I want to do is talk to more devices. Bath Products: I've arrived at that age when getting in and out of the tub is actually a little dangerous. Also, I have an entire drawer filled with the stuff that I haven't used from all the Christmases past. Booze of Any Kind: I haven't had a drink in thirty years, and people still try to give me alcohol during the holidays. If I can't find a responsible drinker to pass it along to, all that overpriced wine is going to deodorize my sink in January. Crocs: Quite possibly the most unattractive shoes ever created, Crocs are also what I see just about everyone in Wal-Mart wearing while they're buying barrels of lard, sacks of those cheese puff balls, and cases of no-name beer. So not really where I want to go w

What a year of quilting looks like in finished projects: It was an okay year for quilting. I didn't get as much done as I'd hoped, but I'm happy with what I accomplished. Hopefully before the end of the year I can add one more. Added 12/13: Added 12/19: the last two quilted projects for this year.