When I was about twelve, my family was visiting relatives in a small town located in the great state of  . . .  well, it doesn’t matter, let’s just say it was one of the contiguous forty-eight. It was a pleasant little town, one of those out-of-the-way places that looked as if it had sprung right off the canvas of a Norman Rockwell painting. The storybook houses were set on deep, perfectly manicured yards, their long driveways sheltered by leafy canopies of oak and maple, while front porch swings buffered the illusion of Victorian propriety with down-home hospitality.

Downtown, the quaint storefronts were filled with displays of merchandise and smartly dressed mannequins, and people moved about their business in a friendly, unhurried way, often taking the time to stop and chat about the weather or the daily special at the local diner. It was one of those places where you would expect Andy and Barney to suddenly appear from Floyd’s Barber Shop, where they had spent the better part of the morning chatting with smooth-talking Gomer and his celebrity-impersonating cousin, Goober. 

One afternoon, my mother and her two sisters talked me into going with them on a trip to the drugstore. My mom needed a half dozen rolls of film for her new Brownie StarFire, and there was no better place to buy film than the drugstore—because of all the other nifty things you could find there.

We parked on the street, right in front of “Drugs and Notions.” As we stepped up to the sidewalk, one of my aunts noticed it first—a hand-lettered sign prominently displayed in the store’s window: “Going Out of Business – everything 50% off.” My mother, concerned that her supply of notions was precariously low, made a bee-line for the front door.

Thirty minutes later, she began placing her items on the checkout counter, and the clerk at the register began to ring-up the merchandise.  Meticulous at her job, the clerk picked up each item, examined it for cracks, tears or other flaws (as notions are notorious for collecting), and then punched the keys on the cash register.  Noticing the prices were being entered at the regular, sticker price, my mother asked when the discount would be calculated.

The clerk answered, “Oh, at the end, when I take the total and divide it by half.  We couldn’t take fifty percent off each item—we’d go broke that way.”

Now, I know not everyone’s a math whiz.  And personally, I have to use a calculator to figure out a twenty percent tip. But here’s what I remember about that experience that keeps it so firmly anchored in the bedrock of my childhood.

No one said anything. Not to the sales clerk. Not to each other.

There was a line of folks standing behind us, most of whom surely heard the employee’s comment.  My mother didn’t seem to think it important , and my two aunts just smiled and reminded each other that dinner was at six that evening instead of six-thirty.

The point of the story is not to poke fun at hard working sales clerks. It is simply to point out that not everyone is going to “get” it.  Not everyone needs to.  And that’s okay.

For example, when I was growing up, I loved the satire of Woody Allen. And yet, many of my friends thought he was nuts—and not in a good way. Here’s another: Some folks read the lengthy sentences of Hemmingway and find themselves drifting off to places and times that keep them captivated for hours. Others read the same page and wonder if he was ever introduced to the concept of using a period.

That’s what makes the current publishing revolution so important—lots of new voices.  And from that rising eclectic chorus, you and I now have the previously unequaled opportunity to choose our favorites.  Here’s to choosing well . . . and often.

A note about your email:

I appreciate (more than you know) the ton of email I’ve received about the recent posts, “Myths, Legends and Lies,” and especially your comments about the The Kure’s realistic portrayal of rituals and spells derived from the dark arts.  It’s made me wonder about my original decision to pull the historical references and source material from the end notes of the book. I left them out intentionally, wanting readers to experience the story with the same abject horror as those who lived in that time period. Now I’m rethinking that.

What’s your opinion?  Do you think The Kure would be a better read—more interesting—if the historical references were included with the book? Or would it spoil the “surprise” factor, increasing the predictability quotient?

If you don’t want to leave a pixel trail on the blog, shoot me an email.

Until next time,

Jaye

Today, I’m being hosted by “Reading Lark After Dark,” a wonderful on-line sanctuary for the 18+ reader where you can explore new books, read reviews, and learn more about  your favorite authors.

In addition to my guest post, the reviewer, Michelle, posted an excellent review of The Kure.

Here’s the link for the guest post: http://readinglarkafterdark.blogspot.com/2012/02/guest-post-and-giveaway-with-Jaye.html

The link for the review is: http://readinglarkafterdark.blogspot.com/2012/02/book-review-kure.html

I encourage you to visit both.

I’m going to leave it short today, with a promise of more tomorrow.

Until then,

Jaye 

During a recent interview on a reviewer’s site, I was asked a question that made me think about the essential differences between the sexes when it comes to things like priority and value.  The question was:

It seems you are quite a shoe shopper, do you think this is really only a female trait or do you think that men can be just as bad when it comes to shoes?

 Here’s my answer:

I’d have to speculate that it’s most likely a singularly female trait—no doubt the result of some quirky twist in our DNA. My husband had long given up trying to understand the relationship between shoes and female chromosomes, until one day I explained the compulsion as part of an inseparable trifecta—a love for shoes, an insatiable desire for chocolate, and the ability to flawlessly apply make-up while driving. He’s never asked me about it since.

Pretty innocuous stuff. An innocent question designed to show the more personal side of an author, and a writer’s attempt at delivering a witty response. Nothing all that unusual, but it got me to thinking . . .

What if the age-old discussion about the differences between men and the fairer sex came down to just one essential ingredient—shoes?  What if all the psychological studies and sociological debate over the inconsistencies and dissimilarities between men and women were simply reflections of how our feet hit the pavement?

My husband owns four pair – black and brown loafers, a pair of tennis shoes and some leather Sperry’s. He says that’s all he needs. But that’s what he’s supposed to say. Because he’s, well, a . . . man. He gets by with four pair because five pair would be extravagant, a waste of money, and . . . un-manly. He—like most men—suffers from obvious shoe deficiency (OSD for short).  But really now, can a simple case of OSD make that much difference in a person’s behavior?

I’m sure of it. Pardon the personal reference, but if you threatened to cut my shoe stash down to four pair, you’d see some changes in my temperament. For example, I might not be inclined to pick my clothes up off the floor (or his either). I’d probably let the dirty dishes sit in the sink an extra hour or two, hoping Alice would decide to abandon the Brady Bunch and suddenly show up at my door. My usually glowing personality and charming disposition would take a dive straight into the dumper.  And men, if you think a woman’s mood swings produced some radical behavioral shifts before we bought both the red and the white pair of the same style stiletto pumps, just take away our shoes and you’ll look back on our previous eruptions of alternative personas—including one of my all-time favorites, axe-wielding Lizzie Borden—as a precious memory you can only long for.

Bottom line, the huge gulf of silence and confusion that currently resides between Mars and Venus could be shrunk to the occasional pregnant pause, if more men made a monthly trip to Macy’s to check out the latest Florsheims. In fact, I’m sure if a man’s closet was stocked with an adequate complement of footwear, he would soon find himself enjoying the advantages of intuition, thoughtful reflection, and sympathetic sensitivity.

Just sayin’. . . .

Until next time,

Jaye

As promised in part one, here’s a little more detail about the historical basis of The Kure and in particular, the ritual contained in the ancient and demonic book of healing the good doctor kept hidden in a secret compartment behind his bookcase. (You can’t imagine all the places I originally considered for a hiding place – the attic, under the floorboards, a hollow bottom in the doctor’s instrument cabinet. But the more I thought about it, I decided the most appropriate place to hide evil was in plain sight – with (and behind) the doctor’s other books.)

My goal was to present the ritual as a derivation of the dark-spirited rationalized explotation of women throughout history, and in particular, young virgin women, who were often used – sacrificed - to serve the sexual pleasure and gratification of men.

As John Tyler (our hard-working, gorgeous hunk of a protagonist) suggested, "Harwell had read the most perverse instructions imaginable, a prescription designed to justify the actions of corrupt and evil men who craved the touch of a young maiden."

So why do satanic texts place such an emphasis on virgins? (And the word “satanic” in this context means any dark or demonic influence, not necessarily the infamous fallen angel, Satan, the CEO of hell.)

Virgins, often referred to as “young virgins” in historical writings, are the popular focus and preferred ingredient in dark rituals because of the “regeneration effect”—the release of energy, thought to be the actual life force. Ancient magicians believed that a living being was a container of stored power, the quality and quantity of which was reflected by the purity and moral character of the vessel. The greatest and purest force was thought to exist in perfect innocence – the virgin.

But what about the sexual connotation?  Couldn’t they just have shaken hands?

Sex is an extremely common element in demonic rituals due to the explosion of energy at the moment of orgasm. Since these would-be sorcerers were all about stealing the life force from others—often called “soul snatching” in folklore—sexual activity was often used as a method to raise the energy levels of a practitioner’s victims to receive maximum energy transfer. 

Demonic books and texts—represented by the ancient text of healing in The Kure—have existed for thousands of years. The rituals of black magic can trace its roots all the way back to ancient Babylon, with the organized practice of satanism rearing its ugly head within the societies of the Sumerians, Phoenicians, Hitites, Egyptians and Canaanites. (There are others, but hey, for our purposes, it’s a start. And it makes it very clear that these bad boys have been around for a very long time, had a lot of influence, and left their mark – both figuratively and literally – on a lot of unfortunate people.)

I hope I’ve answered your questions about the source and inspiration for the ritual contained in The Kure. There’s lots more information for those who want to dig a bit deeper, but as the old adage warns, “be careful what you look for, you may not like what you find!”

Until next time,

Jaye

Okay, I finally get to tell you. I’ve waited for over four months to talk about it. I kept my little secret even after receiving a couple of extremely vitriolic reviews that bluntly confronted the storyline of The Kure as unrealistic, implausible, and so farfetched that it came off as unbelievable – even for paranormal fiction – which by the nature of the beast can admittedly be a bit bizarre.  From calling it “different and disturbing,” (thank you, I liked that very much, as I’ve always believed a good book should shake its reader out of predictable complacency – I mean, isn’t that what paranormal fiction is for?) to comments about a rancid zombie penis (again, thank you – although there is not a single zombie to be found in The Kure, sales of the book jumped significantly the day that particular review was published), the few but reaching attempts to discount The Kure’s believability quotient were misguided and ill-conceived.

As an aside, perhaps one day I will write a book about zombies, their penises, and the angst of the walking dead when faced with an attack of penile disintegration disorder (PDD), but for now, we’ll have to go with the existing character line-up.

Time to talk about the elephant in the room.  It was always my intent to base The Kure on a derivation—or interpretation—of fact. When I started researching background material for the book, I found myself in the unusually fortuitous position of finding an incredible wealth of history, folklore and legend. And frankly, I wasn’t ready for what I found.

Disturbing?  That’s an understatement.  Just ask my husband, who spent more nights than he wants to remember trying to get me back to bed after my nightmares erupted into sleep-shattering screams.  I re-wrote the ritual several times, trying to tone down its graphic nature, hoping to make it more palatable to those comfortably nestled in the upper strata of propriety.  But with each new and diluted draft, I felt like I was cheating – as if I were describing a fatal car accident as a slight mechanical mishap, ignoring  the loss, the victims, and the struggle to adapt to a life that was changed forever.

My readers – and you are the ones who count – deserved more.

So here’s the bottom line: The ritual, and the scene in the barn when Sarah combines the two spells to release the Kure’s power, are based on the recorded beliefs and practices of the “virgin cure” – the medieval concept of having sexually-based contact with a female virgin to cure the afflicted from all manner of disease. The graphic realism had to be there because it represented actual demonic practices of the time. It’s there because the story demanded it. And to ignore the ritual’s source and historical relevance – albeit a dark one – would have been an insult to my readers.

I wrote The Kure with the intent of opening a long-locked door, hoping I could provide a little peek inside a huge room filled with superstition and ignorance.  And yes, I know The Kure has scared the be-jesus out of some of some you. But your laments over lost sleep were usually accompanied by a question, asking me when book two will be out, often expressing the hope that the next installment will be just as scary.  (Don’t worry.  It will.)  It was exactly what I needed to hear.  It confirmed my faith in an intelligent and demanding audience who would not settle for anything short of my best work.  Which is exactly what you will continue to receive.

In book two, “The Karetakers,” I’m going to reveal the source, the linage of practitioners, and the historical practice of red magic. And while The Kure series is fiction, I promise to continue basing the evolving story on relevant and accurate references from some of our not-so-shining moments in human history.    

The nice folks at Night Owl Reviews will be hosting me on their blog tomorrow, and I will go into a bit more detail about the historical relevance of The Kure’s story line. I’ll provide a link so you can take a look, and reprint the post here a week or so after it’s published.

I’d also like to share a bit more of my personal research with you.  So in a day or two, I’ll talk about some of the more interesting aspects of the virgin cure—particularly why virgins were thought to possess healing power, and the rationale behind sexually-based contact enhancing curative powers when applied by practitioners of the black arts.

Hang on, it might get a bit bumpy before we’re done.

Until next time,

Jaye

“The Possibilities of Amy” is soon to be a reality.  Best guess?  End of the month.  It will be available on Kindle only, and yes, I’m going to put it into Kindle Prime.

As a way of saying “thank you” to my readers, I’m going to initially offer it for free for a limited time.  The maximum number of days I can do this is determined by Amazon, so I’ll keep you updated to let you know exactly when to grab it.

Here’s a brief description of the story:

Amy is the ultimate trophy girl—gorgeous face, killer body and a vivacious personality. But there’s something else about her, something that makes her even more special. Amy’s new. A transfer student from out of state, she’s starting her senior year without knowing a soul. And that means she’s up for grabs, available.

Infatuated from the moment he sees her, David is determined to meet Amy, and if the fates are willing, to spend the rest of his life with her. But his shyness prevents him from approaching her—until his friends devise a contest to determine who can be the first to prove their manhood by seducing her.

I’ll post a full excerpt on the website in the next few days.  Meanwhile, here are a few paragraphs to give you a sneak peek:

The first time I saw her, she was leaning against the green-board, waiting for Senior English to begin. She was a transfer student—arriving three weeks after the start of the school year—requiring her to stand on ceremonious display as she waited for the teacher to provide her with a seat assignment.

I had never seen anything like her.

Standing about five foot five, she had thick blond hair that feathered over her shoulders to the middle of her back. Her face displayed the kind of beauty I had previously seen only in fashion magazines—shiny, little-girl bangs set over large, vivid blue eyes that flashed in sync to brilliant white teeth. Her skin was flawless, her legs and arms a warm shade of chestnut spice, the tan appearing to come from underneath, as if God Himself had warned the sun to color, but not burn.

And then there was that incredible, seventeen-year-old body. A tiny mole dotted her chest just below her collarbone and, like a friendly road sign, it directed the eyes lower, to large, rounded breasts—not hung like coconuts, but each one presented in flawless contour, each one crying for attention. Even her clothes could not conceal the spectacular perfection of it all, the seam of her fitted dress revealing the half-moon valley of her waist and the perfect ripe curve of her ass.

I fell in love with that body. So did every male in the senior class.

And while I could sense many of the girls were already questioning her right to invade their pre-established numbers, I was also aware of more than a few who were considering the possibilities.

The possibilities of Amy.

                                           *     *     *     *

Till next time,

Jaye

I just returned from Ft. Lauderdale. I went there for several reasons—a different environment, a little relaxation, a lot of work. And yes, I'll admit it, I'm pretty sure I went looking for a cathartic epiphany.

What I found was a liquor store. 

It was one of those mom and pop places, tucked between a T-shirt shop and a Pizza joint. Not exactly the kind of place I would normally frequent, but it was a block from my hotel, and the desk clerk told me they carried a good brand of Merlot.

Inside, I met a jovial clerk who greeted everyone as they entered and wished them a "good evening" as they left.  Turns out, he was an ex-priest, moonlighting to make a few extra dollars because his day job was slow. He told me he was a painter, applying his brush to houses, not canvas.

He asked if he could help me find something. At first, my thoughts went to the metaphysical—perhaps a little insight on the meaning of life, or at least confirmation that the Mayans have this 2012 thing all wrong.  I figured it was only natural that a man who had spent most of his life imbibing a single brand of sacramental wine would know more about the abstract than the finer points of the grape.

As I looked through the wine rack, he asked me what I did for a living. I told him and offered him a bookmark. 

"Got any Vampires in it?"

I explained "The Kure" was a paranormal romance, and although the genre certainly included books about vampires, it wasn’t a prerequisite to make the cut.

"I'm not so sure," he said.  "Seems like every new book I see these kids reading has a vampire in it.  They're getting to be so commonplace, I wonder if authors aren't just sticking a few in because of their popularity. You know, make the doorman at the hotel a vampire, or the cab driver.  Have them suck a minor character dry and then move on with the rest of the story."

I never argue with opinion, especially when it comes from an ex-priest turned liquor clerk.  But I had to ask.  "Have you ever written a book?"

"I did an alternative take on Saul of Tarsus, before his conversion. I tried to show his softer, more human side. But I couldn’t find a publisher."

"Did it have any vampire characters?" (I couldn’t resist.)

He smiled. "I think if I started writing again, I’d do a murder mystery. They seem to sell well. And I'd make vampires a regular part of the population.  They'd be a minority, but just as present and accounted for as any other race, creed or color.  That way, they'd have to take some responsibility. Get a job. Pay taxes. Join the PTA. Take turns at being a Blockwatch monitor.

"And you think that would help sell your book?"  I asked.

"Maybe, but only at first.  In the long run, it would be the beginning of the end.  Making vampires a commonly accepted element in society would eventually reduce their importance, make them part of the background.  Over time, we’d lose our fascination with pale skin, and bloodsucking, and sleeping in coffins.  Boredom would run its natural course and soon, we’d be done with the vampire craze."

"I suppose."  I paid for my bottle of Merlot and started to leave.

"Yep, he said, first we take out the vampires, then we go after the zombies."

Back in my room, after two glasses of wine, I began to think about the consequences of allowing vampires—or zombies—to become respected members of society, letting them tap into social security, the welfare system, and run the night shift at Walmart.  Maybe that wouldn't be so bad. 

Maybe the ex-priest was right. Then, as our fascination with the undead waned in proportion to their commonality, their ability to seduce us with unexplainable consistency would become a predictable monotony, eventually relegating them to a forgotten curiosity, like lava lamps and pet rocks.

Until next time,

Jaye

Here are a couple of new guest appearances on book review sites:

In this post, I talk about the nuances of suggesting sexual contact, making it effective without going overboard: http://readingbetweenthewinesbookclub.blogspot.com/2012/01/kure-by-jaye-frances-guest-post.html#more  

The following link is a discussion about adapting the age-old theme of “love at first sight,” specifically how it is incorporated into The Kure by making it a subtle surprise for both the characters and the reader:  http://www.thebookvixen.com/2012/01/author-guest-post-giveaway-jaye-frances.html

I’m doing a lot of these guest blog appearances and I’d love to know how many of you are following the links.  I feel by doing them on established book review blogs (instead of here) I can reach a much larger audience.  So check them out, leave comments and enter the giveaways for a Kindle version of The Kure. (If you’ve already bought it, you can always gift it!)

Had a recent question about Amazon, specifically wanting to know why I chose them to market/distribute The Kure, and what I thought about their impact - good or bad – on the publishing world in general.

First, I want to make it clear I’m not employed by Amazon, nor do I receive any compensation or special consideration from the company. And with that out of the way, let’s take look at the bigger picture of publishing, authors, and readers.

I’ve noticed a trend in the comments being posted to book blog sites which have larger memberships. (Goodreads, for example, with 6 million members).  Many are mentioning the price, often admitting to choosing a particular book because it was a “low risk read.” Some even rationalize a less-than-satisfying purchase because, “It was only a dollar, so I didn’t lose much.” 

Historically, traditional publishing has acted as a kind of “gatekeeper,” requiring a writer’s work to pass muster at many different levels, and often being edited to bring it up to the professional writing standards of the publisher’s imprint.  But the publishing industry has changed – transforming into more of a “come as you are” smorgasbord, with readers finding themselves unprotected against a barrage of the untested, unedited, and unprofessional.  So with Ebook publishing available to anyone with access to a computer, how do we, as consumers (and I’m including myself here), determine what to buy?  Just because the description promises a “fascinating read,” and is showcased with glowing accolades from friends and family, how do we know the work is going to meet the most basic requirements of grammar, vocabulary and spelling?

As an example, I recently met the father of a fourteen-year-old who was self-publishing a “collection” of his daughter’s freshman English essays. When I asked if his daughter had shown a proficiency or talent for writing (silly question to ask a dad, right?), he admitted her work was “nothing to write home about," but he felt that being a published author would mean so much to her self-esteem.  Which begs the question: Would I pay a couple of bucks to read a dozen essays written by a 14-year-old with a C average in English? Probably not.  But you can bet her aunts, uncles, and grandparents will. And so will her friends – because of the relationship.

Writers – especially new ones – have a responsibility to establish a relationship with potential readers, to prove themselves, to give the marketplace some idea of what to expect before asking anyone to pony up any amount of money. The goal is to provide a reader with some insight into the writer's work with little more than the cost of their time. And that doesn't necessarily mean a book that is offered for free via Amazon.  It can also be a chapter or excerpt posted on the author's web site or blog that communicates the competency and talent of the writer.

That’s why Amazon’s publishing platform has been so successful. It’s a natural for bringing together new authors and new readers, giving them the opportunity to get acquainted at no, or very little, cost. To my knowledge, it’s the first company to even come close to constructing a global distribution model and then making it available to everyone.  Without it, a lot of good writers would still be spending their time writing query letters to agents and publishers, instead of writing their second or third book for waiting fans.

So am I a supporter of Amazon?  In a word . . . Yep.