quick note

Dec. 9th, 2016 07:00 pm
thatrcooper: (charlie and will)
Treasure for Treasure comes out this Monday (December 12), but I will be doing my day job hell week before Christmas then, so my promotion efforts will be limited. However, if anyone wants to ask questions or talk about it (draaagons!) I'm going to leave my Goodreads question box thingee open, and of course, there's also my Tumblr as well.

Speaking of, if you were on my Tumblr today, you might have gotten to see a snippet about the baby. Yes, THAT baby. Well, a few years in the future, so she's not a baby-baby. But... you get the picture. :) (If you honestly cannot figure out Tumblr, eventually I might post it here.)

Meanwhile, I am ready to submit the next book after Treasure for Treasure, I just have to adjust everything for Dreamspinner's new submission guidelines. But soon. Sooooon.
thatrcooper: (Default)
Where have I been?

Writing a story that WOULD NOT END. I love the characters and all, but for whatever reason, the story took me forever to write. (It was probably my emotions in the way. I'm not one of those people who are super in touch with their emotions. Then these issues and feelings just sort of appear in my stories, and I'm like... how did that get there? aaaah.) Anyway, I would adore talking about this book with everyone, but since it contains stuff about my newest book, I suppose I will wait until you all have at least read that. (Yes, this is a tease.)

Newest book? you say. Oh right. TREASURE FOR TREASURE FINALLY HAS A RELEASE DATE! December 12, you can get it and softly murmur mine mine mine as you stow it in your pocket.


In the nineteenth century, the dragon Dìzhèn put the small coastal town of Everlasting under her protection. Her family was supposed to carry on the tradition, but all of Dìzhèn the Great’s heirs eventually left rather than live in the shadow of such a powerful dragon.

Only the youngest dragon of the current generation remains: Zarrin, the softhearted disgrace of his family. He might be weak, small, and afraid, but he is determined to show the humans they have not been forgotten… one human in particular. The problem is, Zarrin can barely get that human to talk to him.

It should be a dream come true to have a dragon trying to get his attention. But Joe refuses to bow to Zarrin like everyone else. Yes, Zarrin is sexy, oddly gentle for a dragon, and stares at Joe with a gaze so hot it makes him shiver. But hurt, mistrustful Joe can’t believe Zarrin’s promises that he’s here to stay. Joe doesn’t realize he is the treasure Zarrin has been looking for his whole life, a treasure he once let slip through his fingers out of fear. Now, to win Joe’s trust, Zarrin has to be brave and become as strong as Dìzhèn herself.



Look at that!!!!

Also, for those who like audiobooks, The Firebird and Other Stories and A Beginner's Guide to Wooing Your Mate are now available on Audible.


And now, pimping done, I'd like to take a moment to thank everyone who participated in my little fundraiser, and gave money to worthy causes in exchange for sinppets of their choosing. You guys were awesome, and the snippets were fun to do. The charities thank you. <3<3<3<3
thatrcooper: (pye pye pyewacket by rani)
I've noticed some people reading Beings books lately, along with some comments that lead me to think some people are confused. Or maybe just not the sort of people to dig around in my old posts to find information. Which is fair. I mean, I probably should build a website, but then I'm like, I'm not the sort of big name author who needs one. (Also, I'd rather be writing then doing building things or promoting things. It's true.) I do have my livejournal/goodreads reposts, and my tumblr, where things are (mostly) tagged. But yeah, I do need to set something up for that. SIGH. In the meantime...

THE BEINGS  'VERSE  EXPLANATION POST!!


Q: What is the Beings 'Verse?

A: Imagine a world just like ours, but where the magical creatures of legend (like fairies and elves and werewolves) are real, and they live openly (for the most part) with humans. But, they haven't always done so. The creatures, referred to by humans as beings, only came out of hiding when they were forced to. This happened in Europe during World War I, and panicked humans were not very accepting, so most beings live on the fringes of mainstream human society. They are idolized for their beauty and power, but also feared and mocked. Humans also do not distinguish much between the legends around these creatures and the reality of them. Over time, even the beings aren't sure about themselves.

All cultures have these creatures, and different histories with them. Some clearly worshiped their beings as gods or something godlike. Others revered them. Others told stories about encounters with them, where the beings could be benevolent or cruel or loving or petty--you know, just like humans. This is where fairy tales come from.

But then, as humans grew in strength and numbers, they stopped taking such care with these beings. They destroyed the forests where they lived, or drove the werewolves from their lands. Many of these humans, especially in Europe, when Christianity/the Church became a dominant political force, and then through colonization and imperialism, became a dominant force in most other countries, outright rejected the beings. Because the beings are different. They love indiscriminately. Some of them are naked. Their morality has its own rules. They view things like gender, and sexuality, in ways that these humans did not want to understand. So the humans called them evil, or banned the stories of them, and they did the same to humans who were similar to the beings.

But, when those cruel, powerful humans brought war to the entire globe, the beings had no place left to hide. Of course, some had never hidden in the first place, or had continued on as they were under the noses of European occupiers, but that is a story for another time.*cough*

Some of the beings remember their history, and others do not. Because they aren't represented accurately (or sometimes at all) in human media, many of them now believe the horrible things said about them. Others are fighting to prove what they really are. Alongside these beings, you have the humans who are like, or who love them.

Q: Are you some kind of nerd?

A: Yes. Obviously.


The Books:

Q: How many books are there?

A: 6 as of now. 7 is on its way. I am working on 8. (I started it this week! Aaaah!)

Q: Do the books need to be read in order?

A: No. They are written as standalones. HOWEVER, I do think people will understand certain references better if at least some of the books are read in the order they were published. AND, there are moments with recurring characters and themes that will make more sense if you've read everything. But no, it's not necessary to have read, say, Some of Kind of Magic before you read A Boy and His Dragon or Little Wolf. (In fact, I don't think most people do.)

Book 1:  Some Kind of Magic

A novella set in Los Cerros, a town with a significant being population, and which is considered a liberal town for that reason. A werewolf protects the things he loves, even from himself, if necessary. Features Ray Branigan, who is only the second being to ever make detective in Los Cerros. It also features lots of prejudice against beings, especially werewolves and fairies. Prejudices so strong even the beings have started to believe them. (Bad, Ray! Very bad! That is no way to treat your mate!)

Book 2:  A Boy and His Dragon

Set in Madera, about an hour away from Los Cerros. About a human boy with a noble heart, and the nerdy dragon history lecturer who adores him. Humans have lost the language to communcate with beings, so it takes our human boy, the lovely Arthur, some time to realize what a dragon might mean by calling him treasure.

Book 3:  A Beginner's Guide to Wooing Your Mate

Wolf's Paw, a town several hours from Los Cerros, is a town run by, and for, werewolves. If you're a human wizard, you might not feel very comfortable there. If you're a shy werewolf, you might feel like a bit of a failure for not getting your mate to love you. This story really starts to explain the idea of mating as werewolves view it. (Ray isn't really the explaining things type.) This is important because of

Book 4: Little Wolf

In which the toxic ideals about how werewolves ought to act have traumatized a young were to the point where he cannot recognize the mate in front of him. I cannot with this story. The real concept of mating (and treasure, and shine, and true love) finally starts to become more clear. It helps when you have a werewolf who acts more human than wolf.

(Book 4.5: A Mate of One's Own. A short story about Zoe, Little Wolf's friend, and her discovery of her mate.)

(Little Prince--a silly short version of Little Wolf I did, in which they are not werewolves. Very silly.)

Book 5: The Firebird and Other Stories

HOLY SHIT. Okay. This book... this book is readable without the other ones, but I personally would advise reading it after you have at least read one or two of the others. (I know some people didn't do that and still enjoyed it. But I'm just saying, it was written as I was writing the other stories and there are some tie ins.)

Basically, this book of short stories is about the beings shortly after they emerged from hiding, to the present day. Has lots of cameos, and except for two of the stories, is set in Los Cerros. LOTS of ideas about love and mating and hope in this story, which is good because there are a lot of horrible things humans have done to each other (and to the beings) throughout history. That hope is so, so necessary.

(Book 5.5: Frangipani and the Very Shiny Boy. A short story about a fairy desperately trying to get a boy's affection.)

Book 6:  A Dandelion for Tulip

Back in Madera, with a human who is finally attempting to discover the real history between humans and beings, and the fairy who loves him. Further explores the idea of shine. Features a lot of callbacks to the ideas from the previous stories. And some cameos. Were you curious about fairies? Well this is the book for you, then. :)

Book 7:  Treasure for Treasure

In which there is a small town that belongs to dragons--even though the dragons seems to have forgotten about it. One small, very determined dragon is going to have to prove to everyone that he will properly care for this treasure.

Book 8: (Well, wouldn't you like to know?)




And that is it for now. I do actually have a Beings 'Verse timeline in my notes, but it's incomplete, so in the future, I might repost all this and add it. I was also going to talk about Hottie Scotty and Mr Porter, but they are not beings, so I won't for now. Maybe this weekend.)

As always, people are free to ask me questions.<3
thatrcooper: (elizabeth hug by someone)
You guys. Honestly. You guys. You wonderful goobs who ran out and read The Firebird and Other Stories right away, and then asked me all the nerdy awesome questions about it! :):):) <3 I hope the love outweighs any trauma. And as always, if you really want to know something, or just want to ALL CAPS TALK ABOUT SIMON'S FASHION CHOICES OR RENNET MY DARLING OR YELL AT ME FOR DESTROYING SOULS, or whatever, feel free to message me. I'm available basically everywhere but Twitter.

In other news, The Winter Prince was accepted. Yaaaay! This is basically a fairy tale, about a prince who gave away his heart to a magical creature, and now has to get it back, or he will freeze to death without its warmth. (It helps that he has the court wizard along, who might be, you know, the kind of person who would make him feel things if he still had a heart.) So that should be out next year. I don't have specific dates yet, but Dancing Lessons should come out in January (ish) and then The Winter Prince in February or March.

No, neither of those stories involve beings. But in a way, they both involve fairy tales, so there is that. (Dancing Lessons is contemporary. About emotionally fragile Chico (Sheeco) with his big brown eyes, and clever, shameless Rafael, the dance teacher who would really, really like to love him.)

I, um, also wrote a short thing to release on Amazon for autumn/Halloween. It's pretty simple. I wanted a fluffy story about pumpkins and crunchy leaves, but what I got is a powerful, lonely witch and this dork who may or may not love him. There might also be a ghost and a talking raven.

There is definitely a ghost and a talking raven.

Yeah. So that will be around in the beginning of October. Probably just on Amazon at first, because they make covers for you, and I can't afford to pay an artist what they are worth.

Anyway. This is mostly for the seven of you who like me. (I feel like Sally Field right now, if that's not too old of a reference to make.) Thank you! You guys are awesome! Your reactions to the Firebird are truly fantastic. <3
thatrcooper: (pye pye pyewacket by rani)
Sorry I've been so lacking in updates! I was working feverishly to finish two different projects. (And I did, so yay me! The Winter Prince, a fairy tale, and a story for Halloween that I was going to put on Amazon, but it turned out a little different than I was expecting. So we'll see about that one. But it's so gonna have a familiar pun in the title. Because puns! Overly Familiar sounds good, right? Something.)

But this post isn't about them. This post is about some stories about Beings. Specifically a handful of short stories about Beings throughout the last century, from shortly after they first came out of hiding, to about now. You may have heard me mention these shorts before. I've been working on different ones for *years* now. And now here they are. Eeeee!



The Firebird and Other Stories

Magical creatures known as beings emerged from hiding amid the destruction of the First World War. Since then they’ve lived on the margins of the human world as misunderstood objects of fear and desire. Some are beautiful, others fearsome and powerful. Yet for all their magic and strength, they are as vulnerable as anyone when it comes to matters of the heart.

A firebird in 1930s Paris is drawn to a writer with a haunted past. Upon returning from fighting in the Pacific, a jaguar shifter finds a third-gender human on his doorstep. Early rock ‘n’ roll DJ Hyacinth the fairy shocks his listeners with his admiration for his quiet assistant. During the AIDS crisis, a gruff, leather-wearing troll dreams of a settled life with a mixed-species elf across the bar. An imp, who remembers only too well how cruel the world can be, tells himself he’s content to stay behind the scenes—if only his chaotic, impish magic would stop getting in the way. And a shy human tending his poisonous and carnivorous plants is convinced no one will ever want him, certainly not the handsome werewolf grieving for a lost mate. Human or being, all must overcome fear to reach for love.


Guys, I can't even tell you how cool it is, and how honored I am, that Dreamspinner agreed to publish a book made up entirely of short stories about my magical failboats in love. This is something I would never have dreamed of. In a way, it's my own little book of fairy tales and I am a super giddy dork about it. (No, really. I was distracting myself with writing projects, and now they are done, and I am basically flitting around giggling about this to myself. Like a weirdo.)

To celebrate the release day, Friday, September 18th, (a day, sadly, I will be working at the day job) I have queued up a whole bunch of interesting pictures and songs and posts of subjects relating to the short stories. I've queued up so many, in fact, they will probably last into Saturday as well. If you're interested, check out my Tumblr.  That's me, sweetfirebird. (ahaha my name will finally make sense to people.)

In addition to that nerdy party, on Saturday night (the 19th) I will be on Tumblr to answer any questions people might have, or if they just wanna hang out, or talk about non Beings things. I might even be tipsy on champagne, so obviously that is when people should ask anything they want to know. ;) Chatting on Tumblr is odd because of the format, but you can easily visit my askbox and say hello. It's the link that says Ask Me Anything. (But FYI I live in California, so I am on Pacific Coast time.)

In addition to *that*, you can always ask me stuff on Goodreads at the Ask the Author link. Just keep in mind that Goodreads does not notify me of questions in a timely way, so sometimes my responses will be slow unless I have Goodreads open in a tab--which I likely will that Saturday and Sunday.

This is so exciting!

And ooooh before I forget, Some Kind of Magic is now available on audiobook! SO MANY BEINGS! WE'RE SURROUNDED! Nerdy Beings party! History dorkiness! and Kazimir! My diva!

:)

Yeah okay. I will try to calm down now.
thatrcooper: (paris by cunningcroft)
For everyone as broke as me--COUPONS! You get a coupon! And you get a coupon! I'm throwing coupons at you!

They're for stories up on Smashwords, but still, coupons. (And remember, there are free stories up on Smashwords too. FREE! THE BEST THING!)

Treat yo' self! Personally I have a hard time spending money on myself. Sometimes it helps when there is a sale. In this case, 50% off! *sings like Donna and Tom Haverford* Treat Yo Self 2013!

Coupon Code for With Everything I Have is CH88S

Coupon Code for Ideas of Sin (for the brave who are into pirateses and rough sex and 1600s religious debate and things) is LD78Q

Both good until January 6, because I like the sound of Twelfth Night. And don't forget the free ones. Freeeee! Have fun.

Meanwhile, people, so all I seem to want to do is write short stories about Wicklow and Rhoades and that is no fun for anyone since I don't even know if Dreamspinner wants them. (ah the nervewracking wait for a response) What should I do if they don't? Smashwords them? Amazon? Hmm I also kind of want to write a cracky alternate universe story with Tim and Nathaniel where Tim in a prince(ss) trapped in a very tall tower (until he escapes) and Nathaniel is the long suffering knight trying to help him/get laid.

Poor Nathaniel, he never gets laid. At least not by Tim.

I am really failing at short stories for the Christmas season. Hmm... maybe John and Rennet at Christmastime? Oh shit. I don't think anyone knows John and Rennet either. Well boo. I swear I've been writing. Just... I've been working on long things and short stories that don't really have a home. (yet) Sorry. Have an excerpt while I continue to plug away.


A little bit of Kazimir the Firebird.


Read more... )

"That was quite a show," remarked a voice from the shadows, and Kazimir angled his head toward his audience. His head still ached, but he kept his chin up while the man came forward until his toes were on the edge of Kazimir's soft circle of light. His audience was a man of average height, handsome, though part of his face was hidden by an unfashionable growth of beard and a small mustache. Curls of brown fell into his face where they were not tucked behind his ears, and glasses hid his eye color, but his clothes were plain, a shirt and pants, with braces, or suspenders as Americans called them. He was American too, though his French accent was better. Kazimir had the impression of a direct gaze before the man glanced away again. His lips were full and pliant.

"At the theater tonight, or what just took place on my balcony?" Kazimir stared at him, waiting for the man to look at him again, wondering why he would look anywhere else with Kazimir in the room with him.

"That." The emphasis in the word was almost amusing. "What just took place. Though I also thought your performance tonight was incredible. Not everyone gets an opera written for them, not everyone deserves it."

He implied that Kazimir did, which Kazimir already knew. But Kazimir nodded after a moment, and the man took a drink from his own glass. It held something brown, with ice. The man swallowed with evident pleasure and then said nothing, continuing to keep his eyes from Kazimir.

"You should not capture a Firebird," Kazimir addressed the topic at hand, and watched soft lips open on what could have been a silent laugh. His glow was flattering to the man's cheekbones, the light olive tone to his cheeks.

"Should not?" The stranger moved and Kazimir got a hint of dark eyes narrowed in thought. "Was that act for his benefit then?"

"If not his then for the next creature he tries to buy." Kazimir shrugged and sighed loudly at the stillness from the man opposite him. "You have more to say? You think I was cruel? That he did not deserve rejection?"

The man considered him over the wire rim of his glasses, direct and indirect at once. Kazimir knew he was being studied, and yet could not catch the man's gaze. The strange, somewhat insolent human took another drink of his brown booze. "You didn't have much respect for his feelings."

Kazimir surprised himself by letting out a short, icy laugh "He should have had respect for mine."

"Were yours clear?" If possible, the man seemed equally amused, though Kazimir did not understand why he should be, unless he found Kazimir himself funny. The human could have been one of those men who feigned disgust at things like magic or the blended world that magical creatures lived in, where human morals and customs did not apply. He barely looked over thirty, but it was not only old men who regarded fairies and demons with hatred and loathing. Lately many seemed to, as if the problems of the world were to be laid at their door, as if beings of magic had been the ones destroying banks and dividing countries up into arbitrary pieces.

Kazimir drew himself up and curled one hand into a fist, two remaining pearls hard in his palm. "What responsibility is it of mine to make my feelings clear? My feelings are mine." His voice was clear, the little American would not argue. Kazimir kept on. "He was told no. It is not my fault he did not listen."

He let out a puff of air and wished for more vodka. It was a long time before he thought of speaking again, but when the American did not say a word, he chose to answer with silence, and so they stood. Then the American shifted forward again, coming further into Kazimir's light but stopping before Kazimir had to step back. Kazimir wondered if the man had seen him shudder away earlier, or if this human had simply been raised with better manners. He inclined his head, as though granting Kazimir the point, but did not admit his fault aloud.

Kazimir felt something, not altogether fear, slide down his back. He frowned and made his smile cold. "Human men in general do not give ground until forced to," he pronounced, bitter and unsurprised, and wondered if a mere glimpse of his neck would be enough to undo this one, or if more would be required.

The American stared to the side for a moment longer, then took another drink. He gave Kazimir a short look, then snorted and spoke in English. "Fucking true enough," he remarked, "we will defend to the last man salients of no value to avoid the appearance of retreat."

It was a confusing statement, one Kazimir was not entirely sure he translated correctly. Before he could ask, the American went on, growing warmer at the subject or from his liquor. "Not to say you have no value, or that you are a piece of land. Merely agreeing with you. It's difficult to let go. It can be difficult." He scowled down at his glass.

"You are drunk." Kazimir was neither amused or shocked, though he was not certain why he bothered commenting. His guests were currently swimming in gin.

"Usually," the American hummed a little, a piece from the opera tonight, "I usually am, when not working. May I ask you something?" He paused. "Did you not like the pearls? The gesture was beautifully executed, and I applauded, but outside of this apartment people are hungry."

"And the inhuman creature throws away pearls while the bread lines grow." Kazimir looked down to straighten his robe and when he raised his eyes, the American was looking right back at him. It took him too long to speak again. "Perhaps I prefer diamonds." He held the man's gaze even with the touch of electricity down his back and the ache in his bones. "Do you have diamonds?" he ducked his head to inhale greedily, and glanced up, an unrivalled courtesan. He swept a look over the American's clothes, noting the lack of starch in the shirt as if it had been worn a few times since its last cleaning. It might be the man's only dress shirt. Kazimir clucked his tongue pityingly and straightened. "I don't think you do," he sighed as if bored and waited. When insulted, some dogs licked your hand, others bit.

This dog tilted his head to one side. "You want diamonds? Common diamonds?" He seemed unwilling to admit the possibility that anyone would see a diamond as anything other than a shiny stone, though he returned the same sweeping look Kazimir had given him.

Kazimir felt himself go still. The human pretended not to see, though he must have.

"No, rubies surely. You must have been offered rubies too," the American went on, then wrinkled his nose and gave Kazimir another of his brief, searching looks. "Forgive me but as much as I can see you in jewels, your own natural beauty would render them redundant. You're handsome, yes, your jaw, your shoulders, your tapered waist and straight nose, but mostly… beautiful. Beautiful is the only word that suits you, or, I should say, it is the only word that comes to mind that wouldn't embarrass me."

"So you offer me no jewels at all?" Kazimir could have played coy, accepted the compliment and whatever money the man did have. He intended to, but the words came escaped him in a lilt, a graceful humming note when there should have been a blast of sound.

"Flowers. Those I would give you, if I had the money to, which I don't." The American nodded and took another drink. Kazimir could not tell if he meant it at all; the man looked at him in the same way as before, direct and then from the side, strangely shy. He was a schoolboy until he spoke.

"Roses?" Kazimir angled his head up and let out a pointed, light yawn. His heart would not slow. "Orchids?"

"Mere weeds!" the American scoffed, serious or playful, Kazimir could not determine, and did not allow himself to react though the American went on, "painted blooms in paper coffins, cut and wrapped and stuffed into a vase for display. No, not those. Not for you."

"What then?" Kazimir leaned back against a wrought-iron stand, velvety fern fronds tickling his bare skin. He put his wrist to his forehead like a film actress. The American's breath seemed to leave him in a rush, and when Kazimir looked, the man was watching him, earnestly now, if he had not been before.

"Wild flowers, the kind I have only ever seen in fields in Belgium. The kinds that grow on this continent no matter what is done to the land. Cascading colors so bright they're obscene. Blooms so beautiful they make you forget that even flowers fight for survival. Wild flowers, hardier than anything grown in a nursery. I'd make you a crown of them."

"Free flowers then?" Kazimir countered, his hand falling to his throat, though the weight of the pearls was long gone. The American threw his head back and laughed. It was too loud from drink, but still a rich, pleased sound that drew attention. A few people stopped at the doorway to peek at them.

"No jewels and no flowers will please you, Monsieur Firebird?" He was charming now suddenly, this American, leaving Kazimir to stare and wonder where his shyness had gone.

"I have never asked for them," he insisted, still with his hand at his throat, and the man dropped his crooked smile before Kazimir had even fully realized it was there.

"So you throw them away as though they are nothing?" He was gruff but quiet, and once again Kazimir could not tell if he was joking. He could not ask any more than he could ask for stories of these fields where wild flowers grew. He had traveled by train many years ago but had never stopped to look out at farmland turned grey with trenches and rain. He took a breath.

"That is no way to talk, Monsieur L'Américain, not if you wish to win a firebird." He was not drunk, but he sang it out, so sweetly it seemed a mockery.

The American frowned. "You said I should not--" he started, but was cut off by the arrival of Michel, who turned on the lights as he strode in. The American shut his eyes for a moment and swore, in the crude manner that seemed his habit. "Fuck."

Kazimir took a moment to study him in the light, from the shine in his brown curls to the dull scuff of his shoes. His trousers were recently ironed, but frayed, and a tarnished watch was ready to fall from his pocket. His lips were indeed yielding and pink, but held lines at the corners that spoke of pain. He was no schoolboy, but older than thirty, though not much. He was thin, and his skin had a tint of its own, as if good food and sun were all that were needed to make him beautiful, and perhaps a shave. He was not a picture of health. His skin was dotted with sweat despite the chill, like a human, a tipsy human without much money who had not eaten a solid meal in some time.
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