Okay this is not going to be an assigned thing. I may decide to do it instead of a normal weekday post, as I am this week…or I might drop it in randomly as I feel the desire. The Fae Corps Blog Does a Saturday TBR and they are not always books that we have read, but ones that look good amongst the recommendations we get. These are all going to be ones I have read, and This will be my clear thoughts on them. Now as I sometimes sign up to be an ARC reader, I will not always have the link for you to buy the book…but I will try to post when any I do miss the link on are live.
I have always been a voracious reader. I go through a trade paperback in about 4 hours. Since I have started publishing, finding time to read seems like a bit of a luxury. Not because I don’t read now…on the contrary. I am always reading things that people send me to publish, to edit, just to get opinions on. So reading for fun just seems like something I really don’t get to do as often as I would like. I have thousands of books on my kindle. And enough paperback and hardback books that it often causes fights. (My boyfriend’s of the opinion that if I am not reading them I should donate them). I keep the ones that I am willing to re-read. That means that eventually I will pick them back up. But the last few books I have indulged in…Ones I sought out for personal pleasure that had nothing to do with publishing…I found myself taking a couple of days to read. Simply because I was enjoying them, so I would put them down and stop for a couple of hours to do other things before coming back to them. So I realized that maybe beyond the Goodreads/amazon/and the like reviews…maybe I should take the time to tell you guys about these books.
I see hundreds of ARC opportunities. I have so limited time. I sign up for the ones that Really catch my mind. The latest one was a group of books that were all interesting looking mostly because one of my favorite authors was a part of the group. I will be getting a new book once a week until Halloween (as I understand it.) The third one finally got to be read . I forced the issue of being able to get to read….something that is such a luxury anymore. I admit that I skipped ahead to the author that was the whole reason I signed up for this group of ARC.
Y’all, I will always recommend anything that CM Haines.
I really enjoyed the characters in this. They were strong, with some interesting differences. The war and the warriors in a richly detailed world makes me want more. I loved it and highly recommend it.
I still have a couple of these books to do… so far I have been greatly rewarded for signing up.
I really don’t want to have the discord in my soul that politics brings. However, I have found myself being drawn into the fray a lot more lately.
I purposely did Fighting Ignorance as a volume of political poetry because I found myself actually mad about the political issues that were coming out.
I remember thinking that everyone was pushing me to have opinions on politics when I was trying to survive being a young adult in a world that was trying to destroy me. So I refused to get involved. It did the opposite of what everyone was trying to do.
I wanted nothing to do with the news, because it would add more stress on an already tired me. Terrorism was not the people who came from a far to change my country…it was the nightly news telling me that humans were doing such awful things to each other.
I now see the political climate and wonder why we are going backwards. I read a new bill that will make voting harder for those who are like me. My birth certificate and my drivers license have two different names. My name was changed as a child. It was supposed to be changed on my birth certificate as well and due to a paperwork snafu it was not.
I keep seeing more political issues that make me feel like this country is not a safe place for me to live in, and I have no ability to do anything about it. This is why I hate politics. It engenders fear.
I am going to keep hoping for things to turn out well, I will be voting…even if my voice is probably not going to be heard.(1 live in a red state and with the electoral college in place only 51% of the vote is needed to make the choice. So my voice is likely to be unheard.)
I don’t like politics and I don’t like that I have no voice in the way my life is going to be run.
Terrorism is not always an external thing. Sometimes it’s the nightly news telling you world events.
I think I am misunderstood. Several times lately I have had to explain my desires for Fae Corps.
We don’t generally take erotica…but it is mostly because we do a lot of children’s books and marketing both of them for a small publishing firm is nearly impossible.
The whole reason for Fae corps is because I love books and it is so hard to get your foot in the door as an indie author. The only thing that I limit is the erotica and gore for the sake of gore. I really just try to publish good stories by good people.
I like the idea of seeing unique representation of marginalized or obscure groups. I love publishing poetry that makes people feel or think. I am a sucker for a good kids book, and I would love to publish litrpg stories and or guides. I have a weakness for horror and mystery, sci fi and romance…pretty much anything that is an enjoyable read.
I can’t say that I have some kind of specific thing Fae Corps Publishing is specifically known for. I don’t know if I would want it to be. I feel like there is a lot of Indie firms that are particular. I just want to see good books out im the world.
*Note that this started as a short story and is now a teaser for a novel Serena is working on.
Another job, too many this year. It seems like I have taken so many bright lights across the river. Each one so unique, but all humbled by the sight of my river craft. It is never what they expect. Some expect a religious experience, heaven or hell. That is not my domain. I am a simple guide. Taking each one from the last moment in physical form to a transition point in a more spiritual place. The river that divides the two is my home. Glistening, it is the tears of grief that the gods cried when their children forgot them. A proper divider in my opinion. Myself, I have been called many names… Reaper, Charon, Death… Or my favorite is Apocalypse. I am not a god, nor even a mortal creature. The name for what I am has been forgotten nearly as long ago as I was created. And I am fine with that. For naming something gives you power. I have grown accustomed to the freedom of anonymity. Once the mortals pay for the journey, we move quickly. No, it has never been as the stories about me go, my payment is not coin. I have survived on either story or true emotion. Some are too afraid to give me their stories. Those are the ones who end up trapped. Haunted by the stories they cling to. Innocents, pay with the grief of those who are left behind. I prefer not to take the joy of life from them. Still, even though each is unique, I didn’t expect what I found that day! Most of the other creatures left are mortal…. Mostly human. The angelic blood that is left is so watered down that most have forgotten that it even existed. The few actual angels remaining are immortal, so I am not supposed to see them. Yet, there one was. Somehow an immortal being had died. Angels are genderless, not in the absence but instead because they are true Hermaphrodites. I found myself staring into her beauty and feeling a sense of impending disaster. Her snow-white hair, ashen skin, and ice-blue eyes were all so very compelling. Add in soft white wings and she seemed almost unreal. If one of the immortal beings could die, what did that mean for me? For the first time, I considered refusing to ferry a soul across. There was nothing to force my hand, the choice was always mine. Finally, I sighed. “Tell your story to cross between, or do not, and here remain!“ It was the same thing I told everyone, though at that moment I found my desire waning for the story that was about to flow. I remembered every story, from the first to the last. It felt like I was doing a disservice by hearing the story of this soul. It was my catastrophe. For in her story I lost myself and the will to be impartial. The angel hesitantly looked up at me. I believe that she was as worried about what her death meant as I was. Immortal beings were not meant to be able to die. Their bodies healed themselves more quickly than most were able to be injured. Her story would be one that would shake my world. “I was given to the protection of the innocent. It was my nature, so when the divine stepped back… It was what I decided my job was. I have served as a caretaker for thousands of injured innocent. The children called me Frosty the Snowman. The ones who sought to harm the innocent would face my wrath. The children sang songs about me. I had created a safe place for those who had been hurt. I was pleased that I was able to use my magic to freeze those who would hurt the children. They would try to run. Lock themselves in panic rooms and the like. It didn’t matter. I could see them and their guilt, no matter where they hid. I have been doing this since society began. I became so very overconfident. I did not count on the pieces of faith that still remain. The last child I sought to protect was being chased by a creature who understood darkness. He has demons in his employ.“ I saw the sudden fear as the Angel trailed off. The fog that passed across her face. “Only the divine can kill the immortal… And demons are but fallen angels. Each of the immortal is a shard of the divine. I had forgotten that. And it cost me… And those whom I was protecting.“ She was lost in tears. She did not want to leave the children… I could see it. For the first time in my experience, I was torn. Though I was nothing more than a guide, I wanted to play god. The river was divine in origin, a connection to the creators. “How much are you willing to give up? What is most important to you? There is a way, but as with all magics… There will be a cost.” I warned. Her reaction was knee-jerk and emphatic. “Anything! For the children.“ I sighed, knowing what I was about to offer would be regret for her later on. Still, having warned her I offered her an option that I would never have offered to another. “Take this cup, and scoop out some of the divine tears. Drink, and should you be found worthy, then your life will be returned to you. Though it will not be as you expect it. The cost will be paid.“ There was no hesitation as she reached the cup down into the dark water. I couldn’t be sure what was going to happen, but I could guess. I was no longer an active participant in this tragedy, and for that I was grateful. As she drank, she began to change slowly. First, warmth to her coloring, then the air about her began to chill. There was a growing luminescent glow around her. Growing to a crescendo much like an orchestra, peaking with her turning a crystalline white, then in an instant, she fell apart in a pile of snow on the deck of my ship. The pile sat there, unmoving, for what seemed like an eternity. Then almost lazily a small wind funnel started lifting the snow. I watched the snowman form. I was not sure where the hat and pipe came from, but with magic, it was not something that I really needed to know. “The magic returned the life to you, it granted the wish in your heart to return to being Frosty. Be cautious, for you are still vulnerable to that which the divine made. I wish you good stories until we meet again.“ I dismissed her to return to the world of the living. Every now and then I hear about the snowman and the protector of the lost and broken children. Whether she regrets that choice, that I will only discover should she again come to me for the ride into the other side.
I’m staring out into the night Tryin’ to hide the pain I’m going to the place where love And feeling good don’t ever cost a thing And the pain you feel’s a different kind of pain Well, I’m going home Back to the place where I belong And where your love has always been enough for me I’m not running from No, I think you got me all wrong I don’t regret this life I chose for me But these places and these faces are getting old So I’m going home Well, I’m going home The miles are getting longer, it seems The closer I get to you I’ve not always been the best man or friend for you But your love remains true, and I don’t know why You always seem to give me another try So I’m going home Back to the place where I belong And where your love has always been enough for me I’m not running from No, I think you got me all wrong I don’t regret this life I chose for me But these places and these faces are getting old Be careful what you wish for ‘Cause you just might get it all You just might get it all And then some you don’t want Be careful what you wish for ‘Cause you just might get it all You just might get it all, yeah Well, I’m going home Back to the place where I belong And where your love has always been enough for me I’m not running from No, I think you got me all wrong I don’t regret this life I chose for me But these places and these faces are getting old I said these places and these faces are getting old So I’m going home I’m going home
My 2 cents –
I didn’t get the week scheduled. So when I was trying to choose the song I would speak about the poem. Some times home is such a subjective thing .
Pattimouse 