Today I’m interviewing Meradeth Houston, author of Colors Like Memories, a young adult paranormal.
Is anything in your book based on real life experiences or purely all imagination?
I get asked this all the time, especially by my family. I think they are paranoid I’m going to include something about them in my books! Actually, it is very, very rare that I ever include anything about a person I know well. Occasionally, people I know in passing do make it into my books, or at least some of their more interesting quirks. Other than that, I do pull from places I’ve been when I write, using settings I’m familiar with, or enjoy visiting!
Do you have any favorite characters?
Yes, but he’s only mentioned in passing in Colors Like Memories. Much more of him to come in later books (how is that for specific? 
.
How did you come up with the title?
The title for Colors Like Memories is actually from an essay by Jorge Luis Borges, titled “A History of Angels.” There’s a wonderful line at the end that includes the phrase, and I loved it so much I used it in my title. I wanted to include the quote at the start of my book, but it was insanely expensive to get the copyright agreement, so that obviously didn’t happen…bummer, really.
What do you do when you are not writing?
Usually, reading. And working in the lab. Or teaching at the university. I’m a molecular anthropologists, which usually keeps me pretty busy. But, I’m one of those people who actually likes being busy (something about being addicted to stress? Haha!) so I thrive on having things to do always.
Totally random, why the heck not question—> Do you have an Evil Pet Overlord?
I do have a pet overlord, though he’s pretty sweet, actually! His name is Niels Bohr, and he’s a goat. Hubby got him for me for an anniversary gift a while ago (does that say something about our marriage?). I don’t have any pictures, unfortunately, but he’s quite cute in a goat-ish way!
A bit about the Colors Like Memories:
Julia has a secret: she killed the guy she loved. It was an accident—sort of.
Julia is a Sary, the soul of a child who died before taking her first breath. Without this ‘breath of life’ she and others like her must help those on the verge of suicide. It’s a job Julia used to enjoy, until the accident that claimed her boyfriend’s life—an accident she knows was her fault. If living with the guilt weren’t enough, she’s now assigned to help a girl dealing with the loss of her mother, something Julia’s not exactly the best role model for. If she can’t figure out a way to help her, Julia’s going to lose her position in the Sary, something she swore to her boyfriend would never happen.
Release date: May 11th 2012 from MuseItUp Publishing.
A bit about Meradeth Houston:
Meradeth’s never been a big fan of talking about herself, but if you really want to know, here are some random tidbits about her:
She’s a Northern California girl. This generally means she talks too fast and use “like” a lot.
When she’s not writing, she’s sequencing dead people’s DNA. For fun!
She’s been writing since she was 11 years old. It’s her hobby, her passion, and she’s so happy to get to share her work!
If she could have a super-power, it would totally be flying. Which is a little strange, because she’s terrified of heights.
www.MeradethHouston.com
meradethhouston.blogspot.com
https://twitter.com/#!/MeradethHouston
www.goodreads.com/book/show/13030422-colors-like-memories
http://www.facebook.com/ColorsLikeMemories
http://pinterest.com/merbear95695/
http://youtu.be/HFRNJ-Yn7So (teaser trailer)
http://youtu.be/7lUpK68bYFI (book trailer)
As I mentioned a few days ago, I decided to start blogging about my experiences with self publishing vs. small e-press. Stone’s Kiss is my self-pub and Betrayal’s Price is with MuseItUp Publishing. First off, I didn’t self publish because Muse is unsatisfactory, (they’re lovely to work with) instead I did this as a way to start building a fan base.
With self publishing, an author has a lot more freedom when it comes to choosing a selling price, selecting cover art, picking a publication date and so on. The ability to manipulate the cover price was perhaps one of the most influential factors in my decision to self publish Stone’s Kiss. I was able to experiment with different prices to see what sells best. And since this is book one in a series, I wasn’t so much interested in making money as selling a great number of copies. In other words, I want to get my ebooks into as many different hands (devices) as I can. I’ve found FREE is a great way to do that. I’ll talk more about the happy accident of Amazon Price Matching and KDP Select (Kindle Direct Publishing Select) in my next post.
For now, back to pricing.
Yes, some will argue that promotion is the key to selling, and it is. But as a reader, if I’m trying a new author for the first time, I’m a lot more likely to give them a go if their book is in the 2.99 range vs. upwards of $10. If I can buy an ebook for what I would normally pay for a paperback—I ain’t buying. Unless, I know the author and really, really, really love their work. (Okay. There are maybe a few authors I would pay that much for, but I already know and trust them.)
Another plus for self publishing is if your title is actually selling, you get a larger percent of the royalties than you would with a publisher. Yep, I know—good luck with that. LOL.
There’s a down side. Isn’t there always?
You have to do everything yourself. And, oh boy, is there ever a lot of stuff to do. I’ll talk more about that it upcoming posts. One thing I learned was to appreciate how much work publishers actually do. Wow. They earn their money.
And another major element not to be overlooked in self publishing is getting a good editor. I fell down on this. While I did hire an editor, I should have done more research, but I was new and more focused on learning how to create and format ebooks than going over the manuscript for a final polish. (Bad. Bad. Very Bad.) In fact, for the next one I plan to have both a content and line editor. And they will only see it after I have edited it to within a inch of its life. My MuseItUp Publishing editors taught me a few things about editing. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
At the moment, I’m giving Stone’s Kiss another proofread to catch all the stupid mistakes I missed the first time. And, yes, it lots of work reformatting the files, but it’s my own dang fault for not doing it properly in the first place. I owe that much to my reads.
So if you’re a new author, thinking of self publishing, don’t do what I did. Don’t be in a hurry. Do yourself a favor and make absolutely sure you have a good product.
Today I’m starting a new phase for my blog. Book Reviews.
I’ve planned to do this for a while, and just kept pushing it back. But winter is gone, and with spring’s return, I’m filled with new found energy and creativity….yah, right.
It has more to do with me being a lazy blogger, and since my day job is in a library, this isn’t that big of stretch. I think I can manage to review a few books without burning out my remaining brain cells. LOL.
First up is a relatively new book I discovered, one which I absolutely loved. It’s called Altered Destiny by Shawna Thomas. (from Carina Press)
Description
Selia has run her family’s tavern since she was fifteen and can hunt and fight the equal of any man. When she rescues a badly wounded man and nurses him back to health, she has no idea she’s about to change not only her life, but also the destinies of two peoples…
The battered warrior is Svistra—a race of bloodthirsty savages determined to destroy her homeland. Or so the stories claim. Jaden reveals a different truth: how his ancestors were driven into the barren northern mountains. Now they are strong and war parties are pushing south wanting their land back.
The son of a Svistra Commander, Jaden is looking for a way to bring peace to both humans and Svistrans. He tries to ignore his growing passion for Selia, but when she is captured he has to decide what he would be willing to sacrifice to save the woman he loves…
Review:
Yes, I know. Two of epic fantasy’s favorite tropes—a tavern wench, and she can fight like a man. But all in all, Selia manages to avoid being either Xena-like or a helpless girly tavern wench in need of rescuing every other paragraph. Gasp—she is the rarest of creatures, an honest to goodness believable, hardworking woman.
Jaden, the hero, is very likable too. While he isn’t the typical caveman..er..I mean alpha male we see in many romance novels now days, he’s still a warrior, and one with a brain in his head. Or perhaps he is an alpha, just one who avoids being an a**hole. (I’ll abstain from my Big Old Rant about why I thinks it’s uncool for an alpha hero to be a big jerk to the heroine in romance novels. ‘Cause jerky, a**hole-ism is not sexy. At least not IMHO, it’s not.) What? Where was I? Oh, yes. Sorry.
I found the world to be well developed, though I hope for more to be revealed in future books, (there better be future books in this series). Oh, and the plot doesn’t disappoint either.
Overall, this was a wonderful break from all the urban fantasy and paranormal romance I’ve been reading of late. Bring me more epic/high fantasy. ::Cheers::
Will I buy the next book by this author? Yes!
Will I re-read Altered Destiny? There’s a really good chance (and I don’t re-read books very often.)
Rating: 4 out of 5 stars.
My fantasy romance novel, Betrayal’s Price is releasing March 23, 2012 from MuseIUp Publishing
Blurb:
For some, rebirth is not a reward.
Ashayna, warrior-scout for her father’s army, hides a terrible shame. She is host to a mysterious force she doesn’t understand and can’t control—one which puts her very life at risk should the magic-hating priests ever unearth her secret.
Help comes from an unlikely source when she crosses swords with Sorntar, Crown Prince of the Phoenix. Through Sorntar she discovers she is host to a Larkin—a volatile spirit creature of vast power. If she can trust the word of a man who is part avian, he is host to her Larkin’s other half.
When Ashayna and Sorntar are accused of possessing Larkins corrupted by an ancient evil, they must work together to discover what happened in the past to pit one bondmate against another.
Although the human warrior and the phoenix prince often clash during their search to unravel the mystery, nevertheless they are entangled by an unbreakable bond—but is it love, or the manipulations of a deadly enemy?
Chapter One
Ashayna shivered at the slow tickle of moisture down her back. The day had dawned unusually humid for so early in the spring. Still, her discomfort had little to do with the heat and everything to do with the stomach-souring dread currently tying her in knots.
Glancing down at the tracks she’d been following since dawn, Ashayna frowned. Her anxiety spiraled up another notch as an unseen force guided her mare around a pile of deadfall, taking the same path as the tracks. Lupwyns had increased their raiding in recent days, and she’d seen similar sights on other scouting missions. At first glance, this set of prints was ordinary enough, but it didn’t explain why she couldn’t set one foot in any direction but forward.
Lord-Master Trensler and his acolytes would be quick to label what forced her onward as “demonic magic”— the darkest of evils. If she had to call it something, she preferred the name “sentience.” It was somewhat less dire than calling herself demon possessed. A chill swept down her spine at the thought. Naming it didn’t help her out of her current predicament, nor did it explain how she’d become possessed in the first place, or why the sentience was so interested in this particular lupwyn’s tracks.
Time to test fate again. Her stomach twisted as she exerted her will against the sentience and reined in Swiftrunner. Her mare halted with a questioning flick of one ear. Ashayna sought a calm place in her mind while she waited. It didn’t take long for the reaction she had come to anticipate.
Spreading out like ripples on a pond, waves of hot and cold washed over her, flowing down hers arms all the way to her fingertips while other tendrils reached out for the rest of her body. Power. Magic. Heresy. It wouldn’t be long before iron bands of pressure forced her into obedience like it had the last four times she’d stopped or turned away from the tracks.
“Fine. You want me to follow these damned tracks?” Ashayna challenged the sentience. “I’ll follow them.” With a huff she dismounted and glared at the tracks. “But my horse isn’t going to become some lupwyn’s evening meal.”
She started up the trail, one slow step at a time. With each step, the sentience loosened its hold by small degrees, much like a snake uncoiling from its lifeless kill. A shaky breath escaped her. “I am a Stonemantle. I’m not afraid of you—whatever you are. I. Am. Not. Afraid.” She wasn’t certain if she believed herself, and doubted the sentience believed her either.
Pressing the heel of her palm against her forehead, she tried to stave off the beginnings of a headache left over from the rapid departure of so much power. It probably wouldn’t work, but at least the sentience was content. For now.
Ignoring the grasping fingers of the wind, she pushed errant strands of hair back from her face. Much like the wind, the sentience was unpredictable and dangerous – and just as persistent.
Ahead, the prints veered off the path, sloping towards where she could hear the soft rumble of a stream. A hemlock’s expansive branches obscured her view. With a muttered curse, she ducked under the wet foliage. The stench of rotting vegetation rose up to swirl through her nostrils. Prickles of anger danced along her control when her feet slipped from beneath her and she slid to an ungraceful heap next to the water’s edge.
The sensation of being herded hadn’t ebbed completely. She gritted her teeth, wanting to strike out at something, tired of feeling helpless. But fighting, yelling, or sobbing wouldn’t do her a lick of good. Answers were what she needed most, and the only way to get those was to continue on the path the sentience chose. She flexed her fingers to stop their shaking. She just hoped her own personal curse didn’t get her killed by a lupwyn. Or worse, burned alive. A shudder raced over her at the thought of the punishment awaiting her at the hands of her own people, should her demonic possession be revealed—maybe it would be better to be a lupwyn’s dinner after all.
Hunkered on her heels she appraised the ground. Ignoring the icy mud and moisture seeping between her boot laces, she sank ankle deep into the quagmire. The tracks didn’t disappear into the water; rather, a little ways north of her position, three sets of tracks now marred the mud.
She crouched next to the new tracks and skimmed her fingertips along them with a light touch, afraid the saturated soil would collapse. Embedded alongside the familiar prints of a lupwyn was a much rarer track. Human-like, the prints had three elongated forward-facing toes and a thicker, heavier digit at the rear. Each ended in a deep gouge mark where talons had sunk into soil.
Sticking a finger in the icy water she measured the depth. A low whistle escaped when her fist touch the mud before her finger reached the bottom.
“Damn big talons.” Though she’d never seen their likeness, she knew these were made by a phoenix. They fit the sketchy descriptions she’d heard soldiers whisper about when the acolytes weren’t near.
Was this what the sentience wanted her to find?
She glanced up, scanning the stream and its bordering trees. Their branches far enough apart, a phoenix flying overhead might be able to navigate between them to land safely in the water.
A phoenix here?
This new development explained the increased lupwyn patrols she’d been evading. This was the closest the enemy had ever come to the vast city of River’s Divide. What if they were mobilizing for an organized attack?
She prowled along the stream, scanning the ground for more clues. A few steps from where the phoenix tracks first emerged from the water, something glimmered in the dappled light filtering through the canopy. Ashayna edged closer until the mystery resolved itself into a bit of silver and a bright slash of indigo. Reaching down she plucked the silver chain from the mud.
An indigo feather the length of her hand dangled from a silver clasp. Frowning, she stroked a finger down its silken length. A surprisingly pleasant scent, reminiscent of heat, spice, and the crisp fresh air of a mountain plateau, tickled her senses.
And it wasn’t the only thing tickling her senses. An alarmingly familiar mix of heat and cold was stirring in her blood again, tightening its bands of control. Numbness spread across her palms. Her fingers tingled with a frosty ache. When she tried to drop the necklace, her hand wouldn’t obey.
Even as she backed up the slope to solid ground, the hairs on the back of her neck stood. Desire rose, so strong it robbed her of her breath. Power radiated out like tentacles. Not again, she moaned at the sudden rise of the sentience.
Like a hound on a scent, it flowed below her skin, alternately caressing, and then probing forcibly at her mental barriers. A second wave of energy crashed against her shields, buckling them. The sentience invaded her mind. Where fear and desire had been its favorite tool, it now flooded her with joy. Delight, elation…those feelings seemed too small, too insignificant to encompass what she felt beneath her skin, within her mind. Her possession was now complete—every sense was alive with the feelings, even as she watched it from afar. Almost against her will, her hands looped the medallion around her neck.
Silvery flames burst to life along her arms to pool between her hands. It didn’t hurt. Agony she could have dealt with, this…this new sense of rapture was so much worse.
A cloud appeared in the air, to hover an arm’s length from her. Faint as smoke, it thickened, swirling and rolling like fog. Churning and spinning, colors danced until it had grown in size.
Vivid greens, muted grays, sun-bleached whites. They formed a stone courtyard adorned with fountains, statues, and lush foliage. Then darker whorls of indigo mixed with lustrous browns, coalescing into the handsomest man she’d ever seen. He was tall, bronze-skinned, bare-chested, and wore some kind of bright, indigo-colored cloak. The cloud of magic spun itself larger, revealing more of the man. He had…wings. Oh, but he wasn’t a man at all, he was phoenix. She glanced at the indigo feather hanging from the necklace, then lifted her gaze to what—or rather who—must be the source of the feather. While she’d spent a dumbfounded moment staring down at the feather in her hand, he’d turned, his back to her as he looked out over a stone-tiled courtyard. His fingers tapped against his thigh in clear agitation. From behind he looked less human.
A stiff breeze ruffled his crest feathers into disarray and plastered a long, fan-shaped tail against his calves. He whirled around, whipping his tail out of the way, and paced in her direction. She focused on his face. His strong brow, well-defined cheekbones, and firm jaw surpassed human beauty. Still, the intensity of his gaze would give a wise women pause. She wasn’t sure if his frown was a normal fixture or just a reflection of some inner conflict.
Her gaze roamed his broad shoulders, down the naked expanse of his muscular chest to his waist where a paneled-leather kilt hung low on his hips. He truly was majestic, exuding a sense of raw masculinity in his every move.
“Hmm, perhaps I’m not the wisest of women.”
She sighed, mentally pushing aside the faint hint of longing. There would be no place for such feelings. It was war, and those who commanded armies had already decided their species would be adversaries. “Yes, he’s attractive, but you must have other reasons for revealing him to me.”
Magic swirled faster through her blood. “Guess that’s a yes.”
Wincing at the throb in her head, she concentrated on his image.
He paced in a semi-circle, his frown deepening as he searched his surroundings. When his gaze locked onto something in her direction, tension rippled along her spine and lodged between her shoulder blades. Graceful, predatory he stalked toward her and swiped the air. Nothing happened. He continued to look perplexed, his feathered brows furrowing into a frown.
Sweat dampened her skin in a sudden cold flush; her breath grew shallow. Ashayna scooped a handful of debris and heaved it at him. It flew through the image and smacked into a tree trunk behind it. Was it just a vision?
His expression turned thoughtful. Tilting his head to one side, he closed his eyes. His lips moved, shaping unknown words. Instantly, the sentience flared in response, sending a wave of its foreign wanting through her. She clamped her will down, determined she wouldn’t be enslaved. A rush of power surged through her mind, expanding out, breaking past her control. For one horrifying moment she felt her body gathering itself to move closer to the strange window, but blessed and merciful Creator, something distracted the phoenix from his work. He looked over his shoulder to someone behind him, just out of Ashayna’s range of view. The outer edges of the magic window blurred, softening…until, one tendril at a time, the cloud destabilized and vanished.
With the disappearance of the window, the wellspring of the sentience’s chaotic magic slowed, its attacks less focused. Slowly, its chilled touch receded from her mind… following her blood vessels back to her heart, where it coiled in upon itself. She sucked in a surprised breath and flexed her fingers to restore circulation.
Was the strange window to some distant place really gone?
Ashayna hugged herself, cold down to her soul. Shivers started in her arms and fingered their way down her back. Even her knees shook. A pulse pounded in her head. The ground heaved uneasily to her eyes.
Woozy, she slammed a shoulder into a nearby tree for support. Rough bark bit into her back, grating against her leather vest as she slid to the ground. Pine scent engulfed her. Her hair snagged in the bark and tangled in the small drops of pitch leaking out of fissures.
Lowering her head, she pressed her forehead against her knees. “I’m a Stonemantle, I don’t cry, I will not disappoint my father. I can deal with this. I will deal with this.” She inhaled slowly, forcing her breath through her nose and willed her heart to calm.
Something nudged against her hip. A strangled sound, half grunt, half yell, burst from Ashayna’s throat. Swiftrunner shoved at Ashayna a second time, continuing her quest for one of the few patches of grass struggling to grow in the dense shade. A shaky laugh escaped Ashayna. She shifted her knees and the mare snatched up a mouthful of greens.
When Ashayna’s body shivered as her sweat cooled, she reached for the new weight around her neck. Wind caught at the feather, making it dance on the end of its silver chain. From the coloring this feather belonged to the phoenix she’d just seen in her vision. It seemed the sentience was very interested in making his acquaintance.
She closed her fist above the delicate clasp and brought her other hand up to stroke the feather. Its strangely familiar scent wafted around her. Gently she tucked the feather under her vest, ignoring her first instinct to rip it from her neck. After all, she might find a use for the necklace at some point, and it seemed to pacify the sentience.
Swiftrunner jerked her head up, grass trailing forgotten from her mouth. Her ears riveted forward as one hoof dug a furrow in the mud.
“What is it, girl?”
The mare flicked an ear in Ashayna’s direction then snapped it back towards the trail. A shadow the size of a small horse glided between the trunks of two large evergreens. Her stomach flipped when another twig snapped much closer to her position. Snuffling sounds to her left set her heart racing.
She stood and reached for the reins. Her mare nickered, dancing in the mud as Ashayna settled into the saddle. At her quiet word, Swiftrunner broke into a trot. There was a sharp bend in the trail ahead, and then a straight level run. They approached the bend. Twenty paces, ten paces, less than five and she urged the mare into a canter. She chanced a glance back. Three lupwyns—reminiscent of giant wolves—loped into the open, abandoning the shelter of the trees for the better footing of the path. Ashayna bent low to Swiftrunner’s neck and the mare broke into a ground-eating gallop.
Today I’m interviewing Meradeth Houston, author of Colors Like Memories, a young adult paranormal.
A bit about Meradeth Houston:
