IS DEATH THE INK OUR PAGES NEED?

Nathan Bransford had an excellent article,

VIOLENCE IN AMERICAN CULTURE:
http://blog.nathanbransford.com/2012/07/violence-in-american-culture.html

As Nathan says, there is a lot of violence in today's YA.

And the echoes of the gunshots and screams from that movie theater in Colorado murmur a question:

What do we endorse in our fiction?

Could movies like HOSTEL and SAW have been shown to nationwide audiences just decades ago?

Have we become desensitized to violence, to maiming helpless victims, to drive-by shootings in film?

The vigilante is the new HOT hero, especially if the crusader is a kick-ass woman in leather and stilleto heels.

Look at the covers of my two latest books, RITES OF PASSAGE (Now at #6!):
http://www.amazon.com/RITES-OF-PASSAGE-ebook/dp/B004XQVPYM

BURNT OFFERINGS:

http://www.amazon.com/BURNT-OFFERINGS-ebook/dp/B008N4QGA8/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1343272025&sr=1-1&keywords=BURNT+OFFERINGS+ROLAND+YEOMANS

I tried for subdued hints of violence and mystery. It is a truth of human nature: we are drawn to the forbidden and the sensual.

The mysterious Greek physician, Lucanus, and Captain Samuel McCord are both reflective protagonists, chaffing at the violence and darkness in the hearts of those around them.

Luke Skywalker would not be so interesting without the ominous Darth Vadar.

Look at the cover of THE LEGEND OF VICTOR STANDISH:
http://www.amazon.com/THE-LEGEND-VICTOR-STANDISH-ebook/dp/B005NCUTAG/ref=pd_sim_kstore_29

The Victorian ghoul, Alice Wentworth, is clutching her gypsy love, Victor Standish, with sharp teeth bared.

Their world is dark. Their enemies foul and supernatural. Their love a beacon in the shadows. Their laughter their shield against despair.

Perhaps we do our teens no favor if we paint the world in false gilding of Pollyannish cliches. Perhaps we do them good if we show them

struggling teens combating the darkness with the light of sacrificial love and laughter thrown in the teeth of the wolves on the streets.

Closing our eyes does not make the evils disappear. Showing heroes who refuse to give in to the darkness and insist on finding laughter in their pain may be the best thing we can do.

What do you think?

RITES OF PASSAGE is FREE for TWO MORE DAYS!!

WHEN IN DOUBT, TRY NOT TO DIE_FRIDAY'S ROMANTIC CHALLENGE

Denise and Donna are doing another ROMANTIC FRIDAY CHALLENGE:
http://romanticfridaywriters.blogspot.com/

It is about wavering in coming to a decision and the consequences. My entry is from END OF DAYS.


http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0082ZJD08


Alice Wentworth and the spectral Victor Standish are the only "survivors"


in a violent quest to save the planet from an extra-dimensional invasion by beings much older than Earth.


Now, with all of Earth's champions dead, the way is clear for the fae High Queen, Oyggia, to lead her forces to conquer the mortal plane.

Victor shook his head.

“We saved your realm. And unless you want to show your elite killers by your lack of gratitude how little you think of your realm, you owe us a debt.

And you will pay up, bitch!”

Her words were a throbbing husk, “I do not owe you your lives, whelp!”

He made a face. “Ah, actually you do.”

He held up a restraining hand at her outraged face. “But we won’t act like you’re sane or anything like that and open to simple reason.”

Oyggia rasped, “For what are you asking, Standish?”

Victor snorted, “Oh, I’m not asking you for anything. But a last dance with Alice would be a nice touch to the end of the tales told of this night, don’t you think, Sinend?”

Sinend turned to her liege. “What harm could granting them a last dance do, Your Majesty?”

Her winter frost eyes grew contemplative. “None. And there actually may be profit for me in it.”

Victor snorted, “Well, we’ll dance anyway.”

“How, Victor?” I husked. “We cannot touch and there is no music.”

He winked. “No music? With me in your head, au contraire.”

A melodic, bitter-sweet waltz sang in my head with the sighing of violins, and I knew it was echoed in Victor’s as well.

“And touching?” I asked. “What shall we do about that?”

He smiled as sad as the tune in our heads. “What we’ve done since we first met, Alice. We mirror one another, moving in sync one with the other, heart to heart, movement for movement.”

He held out his hand. I placed my hand above his misty one. We began to dance slowly and gracefully. Hot tears blinded me and hid his face from me.


And yet, they did not, for I had his eyes ever before me, whether awake or asleep. As the Sidhe watched on, we danced. Some were openly grieved. Most were bored, ready to slay us at their queen’s command.

Our last dance was much like our whole love affair. We were so close, yet so far apart. Mirroring each other in step and heart, but forever separated by our very natures. Still, we moved as one, fluid and sweeping. The melancholy tune tugged at me soul-deep.

“What is this beautiful tune?”

Victor smiled, “It’s from a movie, BROTHER’S KEEPER. I thought it fit me since I am Death’s son.”

“How so?”

“With Death as my mother, isn’t everyone my brother and sister in a way? And didn’t you bleed and suffer for the whole world, Alice?”

“I fought for those I loved. To die for an abstraction is beyond me, Victor.”

We danced in sweeping steps that took us all along the circle of hilt-clenching warriors. Victor ignored them.

He studied me as if trying to memorize each gesture I made, every word I spoke. We whirled and twirled in a dance of love unlike the one of death Skeggjold and I had taken but moments before.

He murmured,“I love you, Alice.”

I smiled evilly. “I know.”

He winced. “Does that make me Han Solo or Princess Leia?”

“Oh, the dashing Han Solo, of course.”

I fought the urge to nuzzle my head on his shoulder. Oh, it was so hard to dance like this. But then had not our whole love been an affair of maddening abstinence?

“Victor, do tell me what is the name of this tune done so hauntingly by these violins?”

He smiled wickedly. “It’s called COWS ON THE HILL.”

“You jest! Whatever made you think of this as the music for our last dance?”

He winked. “As we waltz this tune, the transformed Queen Meropis is grazing contentedly in the Elysian Fields.”

I giggled,“Even now, with the rest of our lives measured in but heartbeats, still you can make me laugh.”

I drew in a breath I did not need as I swung in circles in our last waltz. “Are you dead? Are you a ghost? Oh, I must know, Victor, what are you?”

“In love with you, Alice. Leave it at that.”

“No, I simply cannot die without knowing.”

His wavering form kept dancing but his face grew grim. “You will weep bitter tears at the price of knowing, Alice. Do you still want me to tell you?”

“Yes! I will not die without knowing just how you come to be dancing with me, to have helped me these past days though all say you are dead.”

He and I danced as one, our feet seemingly floating above the still smoldering grass. He brushed my lips with his. They tingled. There were tears of farewell in his eyes.

“I can see where you would have to know before you died.”

WHEN IN DOUBT, TRY NOT TO DIE_FRIDAY'S ROMANTIC CHALLENGE

Denise and Donna are doing another ROMANTIC FRIDAY CHALLENGE:
http://romanticfridaywriters.blogspot.com/

It is about wavering in coming to a decision and the consequences.  My entry is from END OF DAYS.


http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0082ZJD08


Alice Wentworth and the spectral Victor Standish are the only "survivors"


in a violent quest to save the planet from an extra-dimensional invasion by beings much older than Earth.


Now, with all of Earth's champions dead, the way is clear for the fae High Queen, Oyggia, to lead her forces to conquer the mortal plane.

Victor shook his head.  “We saved your realm.  And unless you want to show your elite killers by your lack of gratitude how little you think of your realm, you owe us a debt.  And you will pay up, bitch!”

Her words were a throbbing husk, “I do not owe you your lives, whelp!”

He made a face.  “Ah, actually you do.”

He held up a restraining hand at her outraged face.  “But we won’t act like you’re sane or anything like that and open to simple reason.”

Oyggia rasped, “For what are you asking, Standish?”

Victor snorted, “Oh, I’m not asking you for anything.  But a last dance with Alice would be a nice touch to the end of the tales told of this night, don’t you think, Sinend?”

Sinend turned to her liege.  “What harm could granting them a last dance do, Your Majesty?”

Her winter frost eyes grew contemplative.  “None.  And there actually may be profit for me in it.”

Victor snorted, “Well, we’ll dance anyway.”

“How, Victor?” I husked.  “We cannot touch and there is no music.”

He winked.  “No music?  With me in your head, au contraire.”

A melodic, bitter-sweet waltz sang in my head with the sighing of violins, and I knew it was echoed in Victor’s as well.

“And touching?” I asked.  “What shall we do about that?”

He smiled as sad as the tune in our heads.  “What we’ve done since we first met, Alice.  We mirror one another, moving in sync one with the other, heart to heart, movement for movement.”

He held out his hand.  I placed my hand above his misty one.  We began to dance slowly and gracefully.  Hot tears blinded me and hid his face from me.  And yet, they did not, for I had his eyes ever before me, whether awake or asleep.  As the Sidhe watched on, we danced.  Some were openly grieved.  Most were bored, ready to slay us at their queen’s command.

Our last dance was much like our whole love affair.  We were so close, yet so far apart.  Mirroring each other in step and heart, but forever separated by our very natures.  Still, we moved as one, fluid and sweeping.  The melancholy tune tugged at me soul-deep.

“What is this beautiful tune?”

Victor smiled, “It’s from a movie, BROTHER’S KEEPER.  I thought it fit me since I am Death’s son.”

“How so?”

“With Death as my mother, isn’t everyone my brother and sister in a way?  And didn’t you bleed and suffer for the whole world, Alice?”

“I fought for those I loved.  To die for an abstraction is beyond me, Victor.”

We danced in sweeping steps that took us all along the circle of hilt-clenching warriors.  Victor ignored them. 

He studied me as if trying to memorize each gesture I made, every word I spoke.  We whirled and twirled in a dance of love unlike the one of death Skeggjold and I had taken but moments before.

He murmured, “I love you, Alice.”

I smiled evilly.  “I know.”

He winced.  “Does that make me Han Solo or Princess Leia?”

“Oh, the dashing Han Solo, of course.”

I fought the urge to nuzzle my head on his shoulder.  Oh, it was so hard to dance like this.  But then had not our whole love been an affair of maddening abstinence?

“Victor, do tell me what is the name of this tune done so hauntingly by these violins?”

He smiled wickedly.  “It’s called COWS ON THE HILLS.”

“You jest!  Whatever made you think of this as the music for our last dance?”

He winked.  “As we waltz this tune, the transformed Queen Meropis is grazing contentedly in the Elysian Fields.”

I giggled, “Even now, with the rest of our lives measured in but heartbeats, still you can make me laugh.”

I drew in a breath I did not need as I swung in circles in our last waltz.  “Are you dead?  Are you a ghost?  Oh, I must know, Victor, what are you?”

“In love with you, Alice.  Leave it at that.”

“No, I simply cannot die without knowing.”

His wavering form kept dancing but his face grew grim.  “You will weep bitter tears at the price of knowing, Alice.  Do you still want me to tell you?”

“Yes!  I will not die without knowing just how you come to be dancing with me, to have helped me these past days though all say you are dead.”

He and I danced as one, our feet seemingly floating above the still smoldering grass.  He brushed my lips with his.  They tingled.  There were tears of farewell in his eyes.

           “I can see where you would have to know before you died.”

BEST OF ENEMIES_The End of All Things dawns in June

Victor Standish is dead.

{See the end of THE RIVAL}

http://www.amazon.com/THE-RIVAL-chapter-STANDISH-ebook/dp/B007JOUJ60

Hurricane Katrina has devastated New Orleans. The preternaturals are coming out to hunt. The only functioning high school is operated by the Tuatha de Danann poised to invade the world of mortals.

Revenants from Europe are inflitrating New Orleans. Ningyo's are prying open the portal to the Nameless Ones to return home. The last of the Olympians gather in the shadows of a ruined French Quarter to prey on the fallen.

Each faction feels on the brink of triumph.

But they are all of them deceived.

Something has escaped its bonds. Something much older than Earth. Terror is its diet. And now, no one is safe.

Who stands in the breech now? A shattered Alice Wentworth. The two girls who betrayed Victor to his death. An emotionally gutted Samuel McCord.

Enter Estanatlehi, The Turquoise Woman, and her three grandsons:

Wolf Howl, Toomy Starks, and the philosopher/mage, Hibbs, the bear with two shadows.

The End of All Things has dawned.

{Look for it this June}
***