Voodoo

So if you've read Between Death and Heaven, or The Swamp is Full of Mystery or Child of Destiny or even Requiscant in Pace then you know that I weave a bit of voodoo in there. If you haven't well you can just cop TSIFOM right here on the site for free and get a taste. Now you might not know too much about the loa or Papa Legba and you might wonder if maybe I'm some godless pagan who believes in evil spirits.

I wouldn't call that an accurate description of me but I do firmly believe there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy people. The world is huge and so much exists; there is so much to learn and I like to learn it ALL! 

As with many of my favourite things, I first came across voodoo when I was young and impressionable, watching movies about slaves, and horror movies about people using voodoo dolls that I was probably too young to watch. Thankfully Parental Advisory wasn't such a thing then.

So my first brush with voodoo was a scary ass looking witch using a voodoo doll to kill some guy because he did...something to her. Can't remember what. I do remember that the concept of voodoo dolls being used to kill people kept me up at night. Why anyone could just, like, make a voodoo doll of me and kill me, dead!

Then of course there was +Anne Rice with her fixation on New Orleans which she infected me with. When I read Merrick and she introduced me to Papa Legba I had to go out and learn anything and everything I could about him. Turns out he's quite the character; the gatekeeper of the afterlife; some people equate him to St. Peter which was just fascinating to me. The way people intermingle religions. The belief originated in West Africa and I guess when the missionaries came, the practitioners just integrated this new knowledge into their own original beliefs.
So exciting.
My interest was exacerbated when the loa appeared in the most unexpected place; #SpoilerAlert Diana Gabaldon's Voyager which is like book three in the Outlander Series.And the loa enabled Claire and Jamie to communicate with their daughter Brianna who was in another time. It fascinated me because did it mean the loa not only communicate with the dead; but also with the not yet born?
So fun.
Yeah you caught me; I'm a geek.

Of course Papa Legba isn't the only loa out there. I just read a fan fiction where +Jared Padalecki was a voodoo priest and it introduced me to some new ones; Chango, Ezili as well as others I've encountered before; Ghede and Ogun both featured in Voyager I think.
I don't still really know what loas really are. Are they evil spirits or even spirits at all? The Ancestors, the Saints? It's on that long list I have of 'things to learn more about'.
When the concept of Mya came to me, she already came full with a voodoo history. I wonder sometimes which came first, was this character already fully fledged, waiting to be born? Or was there a girl in a small town who I dressed up as a voodoo priestess/witch because of my fascination with the subject? Will I even really ever know?

Mya

I know that putting the setting in the early nineties was a product of my nostalgia. Why is it that the nineties seem like this idyllic time? I don't really know.

However I've been thinking about doing more outtakes; backstories of random characters in the stories. Expanding the character while flexing my writing muscle before I go back full time to finishing Marcus Devereux. Hey if you have any requests feel free to contact me however is convenient for you and let me know.

This Isn't Bragging; It's Updating

I recently moved my books that are not priced free to a new publishing platform in addition to smashwords. It handles distribution to Amazon, Google Play, iTunes, Barnes and Noble and Kobo. I'm finding that people prefer to shop at Amazon than anywhere else because that was the fastest turnaround I've seen in publishing to first sale since I started self publishing. Well...at least for my paid books.

For the free ones, I'm happy to say that The Swamp is Full of Mystery was in the top ten highest downloaded books on free ebooks.net within a week of my posting it. Which is great. I love it. The more exposure the better. And the fact that people are choosing to download my book, among the however many thousands there are on the site?...Awesome.

There is another book of mine that is doing really exceptionally well on all sites it's on. It's a real puzzle to me because first of all, the story is like...eight pages. I wrote it in about half an hour for a competition (I haven't heard back from them and I can't remember the results date or even the site); and I decided to post it because why not? And now it's been on free ebooks like for five minutes and a hundred people have downloaded it. I am truly stymied. There is just no predicting this shit.

I'm thinking maybe I should expand it to a full fledged novel. Just go to pacemaker and make out a six month plan for writing and editing. I don't know. Do I have more story? Of course I have. It's like, a given at this point. The question is, do I want to write it? I'm in the middle of Child of Destiny - Marcus Deveraux which I've kind of put aside to concentrate on work and promoting the other books first; kind of get the momentum going....

But.
Yeah.
So hit me up if you've read it and let me know what you think I should do.
The story is called Cinderella By Any Other Name.

Amistad Ain't Got Nothin' on Me

For this month's East African Friday Feature, I have been challenged every Friday, to write 1,000 words of a supernatural story. It can be an ongoing story, or bits and snippets but four times for the four Fridays of October. Now in honour of the release of my baby CHILD OF DESTINY on my birthday October 9th (So Y'all know what I want for a present...buy! buy! buy!) I'm going to do an outtake story that can be read on its own. As a nod to East Africa, I'm going to give the story of the ghost slaves in the wood - how they came to be there, and their hopes and dreams for the future. As a nod to my late father, my protagonist is named Bulitia. He's the slave ghost everyone from BDAH to The Swamp to COD keeps meeting and talking to.

Bulitia looked up at the black hole that narrowed until there was just a small circle of blue at the top. This place was aptly named; Shimoni. Bulitia had never been anywhere so dank and dark and miserable. The woman lying next to him was dead. He knew she was because he'd been listening to her laboured breathing for the past three days. It was the chest illness she had; and no way to treat it down here. He didn't know if he would treat it if he could. The slavers looked out for such things. He didn't want to make himself more attractive to them. Perhaps when they were loading them into the ship, and they saw that the woman was dead, and threw her overboard...he could pretend to be dead too. His father, Mulungu bless his soul, had taught him to swim long ago. He could hold his breath under water for as long as it took. Then he could make his way back...back to his people and his new wife; his little baby that must have been birthed by now. Yes, Bulitia was motivated. If he had any leverage, he would have climbed up the hole to the sky. Perhaps enough people would die down here so he could pile up their bodies, climb over them and escape.

No such luck though; the slavers came for them before enough people were dead. They were led out, through a tunnel to the very edge of the sea. Bulitia had smelled it; but that was the first time he was seeing it. It was vast, endless and intimidating. A person could get lost just trying to find the horizon. How was he to get back if they took him away now? Bulitia rattled his chains, looking left and right frantically, trying to find a way; but he was securely tied between a woman whose baby was dead on her breast – yet she clung stubbornly to it – and a man with a potbelly so large it covered his nakedness quite effectively. Bulitia shivered; there was a cool breeze blowing in spite of the heat. The slavers were whipping their backs so they could get moving; get on the huge ship waiting on the docks. One last time Bulitia looked around, looked for a way out. But there was none.

The lady they sold him to scared Bulitia more than the slavers. There was something about her that wasn’t right. He could not say what it was but he knew in his bones she wasn’t all the way human. There were five others with him; all from his own tribe. They spoke Bukusu among themselves, speculating on what she might be, and what she would do with them. Bulitia hoped that it was something that would end in death. He was not about this slave life. It was not his destiny.

The woman took them to a plantation in the bayou where sugarcane grew high in the damp humid air. The air smelt sweet and cloying yet familiar to Bulitia. He’d been somewhere like this before, in the time of Nabongo Mumia he had travelled to his kingdom to trade. It smelled sort of like this. Only without the underlying smell of blood, excrement and death. Bulitia wondered why he wasn’t dead yet; he was starving, he had wounds from the whippings some of which were infected and he wanted to be dead. So why wasn’t he? Perhaps it was fate. Perhaps he would find a way to go home again. Bulitia didn’t share this thought with his companions; they would just laugh at him for his naiveté after all; there was no getting out of this life.

Bulitia was assigned to cattle pen; there were six cows on the plantation and one bull. He was to feed, water, and milk the cows and make sure that the bull remained virile and ready to serve. This was familiar work to him. On his own land, he had thirty cows and three bulls. He wondered who was looking after them now.

One day as he was cleaning out the cow pen in preparation for milking a shadow fell over him that made him cold to the marrow of his bones. He did not have to turn around to know who was there. He went down on one knee and tried to still his trembling.

“Mama”, he said submissively, hoping she would get whatever she wanted and go.

“I have been watching you, Bulitia”, she said in a low voice and he trembled. The slaves had been stripped of their names; they were nothing but numbers. How had she known what his was?

“Don’t be afraid”, she whispered coming closer her cold breath fanning on his naked shoulders. Bulitia wanted to shy away, to turn and run. But he could do nothing but stand there and wait to see what the creature would do to him.

“I think you were meant for greater things than this Bulitia, am I right?” she asked putting one hand on his shoulder in a light caress. Bulitia wanted to scream but he knew better. She didn’t know that they knew that she was some creature from hell. She thought her human disguise held. He could not show more fear than a slave would at being singled out by his master. But what was he to say to her? He had no words to answer. If he told the truth, then Mulungu knew what she would do. If he told a lie…she would know. He was doomed. So he kept silent.

She ran her hand slowly, speculatively down his back until she got to the crack of his ass. He tensed as her finger dug inward, sharp nails causing injury as she pressed into him. He bit his lip so as to not to make a sound but he couldn’t still the trembling.

Suddenly her hand was gone from him and she stepped away. He dare not turn to see why.

“You’ll do”, she said.

Child of Destiny - The Summary

The story is set in a small fictional town near New Orleans named Le Marais, which is predominantly populated by descendants of French immigrants who settled in the area in the seventeenth century. The African American residents are a serious minority and even though racism is not blatant, there are definitely different classes of citizens. It is set in 1990.

Leo: He is a seventeen year old high school basketball superstar with unusual athletic prowess and of Caucasian persuasion. He lives with his mother who is a drunk, mourning her abandonment by Leo’s father nine years ago. Because of his depressing home life, he wishes to escape Le Marais and go to live a more secure and successful life in New York City using his rich girlfriend, Charlotte. 

He comes off as a selfish asshole who cares for no-one but himself but really he’s just a victim of circumstances who has received very little love in his life, and is doing the best he can with the tools he has. He comes together with Mya, in desperate circumstances in which Charlotte is close to dying as a result of having fallen in a mysterious magic pool. Nobody knows how or why the pool appears, but Mya is the only witch about that anyone knows, and so they turn to her to help. 

Mya, who lives with her grandmother, is descended from two separate lines of witches, whose origins are in Africa. She can save Charlotte, but only if she has passion from a lover’s embrace. An ingredient which Leo reluctantly provides. Much to their horror, the kiss turns into something else altogether.

Release Date: August 8th 2015

Excerpt -Between Death and Heaven; Out Now.

Gerrit, read it, love it, review it, reap the free sequel, share...

Outtake...Child of Destiny

This is an outtake from Child of Destiny, the third book in the series a preview of which can be read here.
Enjoy!

"Psst!", Mya called from inside the janitor's closet. Leo turned around to see who was calling. I mean, of course he knew that voice even when it was hissing but still. His eyes fell on her, head peeking from the closet like a character in The Lion The Witch and The Wardrobe or maybe more like a fugitive from high school justice. He couldn't help smiling to see her there but tried to hide his amusement.

 Mya was unpredictable these days; she just might jump down his throat if she thought he was making fun of her.
"Hey. What are you doing?" he asked moving closer to her and trying to keep the laughter out of his voice.
"Its lunch time. We have a whole hour", she hissed back as if that explained everything.
"A whole hour for...?" Leo asked though he suspected he knew. Pregnancy hormones apparently made one very horny. Mya's hand darted out of the closet and pulled him closer; Leo almost tripped, he was so surprised. Almost. Because his lightning reflexes were working just fine thank you very much. Mya pulled him into the closet and slammed the door, plunging them into relative darkness. The closet was not meant for human habitation hence no need for windows, or even a light bulb. Leo had no time to point these facts out to Mya because with the unerring accuracy of familiarity her lips were on his and he forgot all about everything.

Mya's tongue explored his mouth, mapping it lovingly as her hands trailed down his torso and began to pull his shirt up. As her own nipples had become super sensitive to touch, she'd seemed to develop a liking for touching his. It was a little disconcerting but Leo was not in the habit of refusing Mya anything she wanted; not these days anyway. Who knew what Ms. Mood Swings might do if he did? Plus if he was being completely honest, she made him too happy to refuse her anything. Especially a bitty thing like his nipples; besides, whatever she did to them went straight to his dick, and just like that, his jeans were too tight at his crotch. Mya seemed to divine this probably by some witchy sixth sense because her hand was cradling his dick in loving caress before he could so much as gasp. He pushed against it, wanting her to unzip him so he could feel her on his naked skin. Instead the hand reached up and circled his wrist where his hand was inching up to touch her breast, and pulled it down to her own crotch. He wasted no time in unzipping her and plunging his hand into her wet warmth. She was readier than the roadrunner for him and he pulled his hand away so he could unzip his own damn fly.

"Lean back", he ordered, grasping her legs and widening them. She hastened to obey, smiling happily. There was some sort of hoovering device behind her that she could lean on and he took advantage of that to lift her legs and put them around his waist.

"Hold on", he said plunging her depths without further ado. She spread her arms out so she that one was on the wall the other on the door to steady herself. He took hold of her ass, rutting against her and groaning; not really remembering to keep his  voice down.
"Shh, you're going to get us expelled", she breathed even as she threw her head back and arched against him, encouraging him to go harder, faster. He listened to her actions not her words; he was enveloped in her heated softness and there was absolutely no blood in his head for rational thinking  or consideration of consequences. There was only her. and him. In his bubble of lust and love and need and want. Nothing else mattered and no-one else existed. Someone banged on the door as if in warning; probably Miles...and Leo tried, he really did to keep it down. But then she stiffened, and convulsed; internal muscles gripping him so tight he almost screamed.
Then he was pouring himself into her and she was milking him for everything; taking his heart, his soul and his spirit into her along with his sperm.

"God", he whispered afterwards as he slumped against her.
"Tell me about it", she replied.

Getting Book Reviews

People are opinionated right? You'd think it'd be easy to get them to just fucking write down their opinion of your book once they finish reading it but it isn't. At least not in my experience. Even when you offer them the book for free...especially when you offer them the book for free. They're all like, yeah I'll read it. Or they text you or call you to tell you what a great read it was, but actually going to the site and writing down their opinion?

I won't say its impossible, but it just seems to be very very difficult. Its exhausting trying to get reviews. More exhausting than writing, editing, proofreading and marketing put together. Even when you get websites exclusively dedicated to book reviews; its still hard to get them to notice you.

So what is a girl to do? I've never been the wallflower type; I'm not schooled in the art of trying to get people to notice me...I hate forcing on guys. I like things to happen organically, naturally, on their own. But you can't really do that when you're independently publishing your own works. You have to find a way to shout, scream, wave your hands, stand out from the crowd. You can't wait for people to notice you; you have to put yourself all up in they faces...That's modern day publishing for you.

So if you're at all interested in reading great stories then do give me a hollaback.

Hashtag Procrastination

Thoughts become things. I said I was going to put some smutty smut in my story, and voila! It just wrote itself. I was not prepared. Anyone who knows me will not be prepared. I'm thinking about using a pseudonym.

But that's not what I wanted to talk about today. Remember about two posts ago when I said I don't like to leave the house because it really makes me tired and I can't work? (I'm paraphrasing) well...I haven't done a lick of work all weekend and the problem with procrastination is once it overtakes you; its difficult to escape. Like, I'm just like, "Annemarie! get to work. Now!", using my sternest voice. So far it hasn't taken yet.

I did write a bit more on The Swamp and I'm very excited about where that story is taking me. It should be done by week's end. After that, well its up to you.

Hi. My Name is...

I was supposed to give myself a day off today. I had a meeting to attend on the other side of town; might as well be the back of beyond it was so far. So I figured what with cramping and shit; I would be good for nothing for the rest of the night by the time I got home.

 Yet. Here I am, its 1am and I still haven't gone to sleep. Been 'updating my information' on the book sites, writing a post on facebook about it, and now, here I am on what is fast becoming my writing diary, updating you on what a writing addict looks like.

Addiction runs in my family; its usually the bad kind with alcohol and shit. I guess I missed that boat. I thought I'd escaped it entirely until I started writing. Now I write until my arm is aching so much I can't write anymore. I'm thinking about getting that technology in that movie starring Tom Cruise or Denzel Washington...some hollywood big wig playing paralysed; he had this microphone thing he used to type things into the computer by talking.

 I think that would be such a handy device to have no? Though my voice would sooner or later go hoarse too I suppose. So I'm thinking maybe I should write just two sentences before I sleep. I've told myself that before. Usually I end up writing until 6am and then forcing myself to sleep. Its a problem.

I've decided I'm definitely making The Swamp an R-rated feature. Some kinky supernatural sex and definitely some violence. 

Its only fitting. I'm an adult after all; my fave is Rihanna. I owe it to myself. Bitch Better Have My Money.

Writing...The Process, The Writer's Block, The Everything

So a few years ago a story came to me, and asked me to write it. It began with Mya, a black girl, high school age; a loner much like me, but a lot more sassy yet quiet with it. Wait a minute...that's also like me. Am I writing a story about myself? Except that I'm not seventeen and my name isn't Mya. I don't want to believe I have that level of 'M.Night douchieness' as one of my favourite fictional writer characters said, so I'm gonna go with no.

Anyway, Mya was having issues from being in the bulls eye of Small Louisiana Town's version of 'Mean Girls' to well, other more let's say universally relevant to humanity issues. So seeing as I need to come up with a publication date for this book and so you haven't read it; I'll stop there. What I wanted to say is that this book seemed to have grown, sprouted infants all over the place, taken directions I wasn't expecting but am helpless to follow...in other words, its slowly becoming its own alternate universe. A universe I hope to share with you and hopefully you'll get as lost in it as I have.

The challenge with getting everything out there like now, today, no waiting, is that the more I write, the more outside jobs I get to write. and sometimes, though not often, I have to eat. and sleep. People sometimes want to see me. It eats into that writing time that's so limited to begin with. We're getting there though. Stay with me.

We Changed the Cover

The New and Improved Between Death and Heaven

You Get a Book! You Get a Book! You Get a Book!

I don't hardly know what to do with this space. I heard that if you're an author, you need a website; and this is mine. This is my first post and I think I'll make it a giveaway post. I'm giving away a copy of my book to my first three commenters. Make it  good, make me laugh if you can; and the free book is yours.

Cheers.

Annemarie.