Becoming a Real Author

The title of my blog is The Reluctant Author and I have emulated it fairly well, if I say so myself. But the time has come to put up or shut up.

My current WIP is now 23k words and the end is in sight. It is now time to start creating an author platform to promote my book. Wow... a real book, complete and readable, who would have thunk? So I must create a blog that reflects my professional status. This reluctant stuff was fun but that is all is has been...fun.

My new blog will be serious and informative and full of contests and interviews and all that wonderful stuff that a serious author needs to have. I will be keeping this blog but it will continue to be my sounding board, a place for me to come to muse and complain and just blow off steam.

So what is going to be the name of my new blog? After careful consideration (not really, I am doing this all by the seat of my pants!) I guess I should use my name so that my new fans will be able to find me. But should I remain on Blogspot or move to Wordpress? That is the next decision I have to make. Do any of you know which is a better platform? I have a Wordpress presence but I am having a difficult time getting into to it.

So my question of the day is this:

• What blog platform is better: Wordpress or Blogspot and why did you choose it?

Have a wonderful Memorial Day!

Write, Edit, Beta, eBook!

Today was beautiful, all clear blue skies and warm temperatures. The Las Vegas valley weather is dicey this time of year. One day it is spring-like the next it has wind gusts up to 25 mph. But for today I am enjoying 70 degrees and a balmy breeze.

I have been tweaking my new WIP, stuck on this one scene between my MC and another important character. Trying not only to get the emotions correct but the tempo and flow of the prose. There is something missing from this scene which I will post below for you to see for yourself. It is a bit of a spoiler but that is OK. Sometimes you have to let the cat out of the bag, at least for a moment or two. *smile*

This past week I have had the honor of being included as a beta reader for the second book in a series. The first book was well received as an ebook and is not going to paperback -- exciting times, exciting time. The second book is looking better than the first, at least IMHO. The MC is younger than the first MC but more mature in more ways than one. I also think the author likes this particular MC better. At least that is what is coming across. The prose and story structure of this second book is better than the first too. The author has grown.

Anyway, I'm liking it.

So now for this weeks scene.

The Beautiful Woman Has Come, copyright 2013, by Debra J. Giuffrida, all rights reserved.

The royal stables was a vast complex of several buildings surrounding a large arena divided into sections. Within the largest section, horses were being worked, in long reins or in hand or behind the small light chariot that Kemet was known, by sun-browned military men, their short white kilts gleaming in the sun. 

Hotpi led me towards one of the buildings away from the arena.

As we walked into the dim coolness of the mud brick stable, I inhaled deeply. The air smelled of hay and dung, leather and urine. Horses nickered softly as we passed. When I was a young girl I had spent most of my days within my father’s royal stables. It had been the only place I had felt completely safe, completely at peace. Sadness gripped my heart as I spied a dappled grey horse, its head hung over a short wall separating it from the aisle. It yawned, exposing great ivory colored teeth. 

“Apolloiana,” I whispered.

“What did you say?” Hotpi asked not slowing his stride.

“That one, there, has the looks of my horse ... from before,” my voice thickened. Hotpi stopped when we were opposite the grey.

“This one? He is mine,” Hotpi said running his hand along the horses glossy neck.

“Noble Lord.”

We both turned. Hotpi stiffened then relaxed.

“WerAt!” Hotpi addressed the old man walking towards us. “This is Nefertiti, Lord Aye’s ward,” he said pulling me around to face the old man. “She is the one I told you of.”

The old man nodded his head and looked me over.

“She is as beautiful as you said. From Sparta, you say?”

I stiffened. “Yes, I am Sparta’s Queen, my husband, Menelaus, is King,” I said before Hotpi could answer for me.

“You told me not that she was wed.” The old man turned towards Hotpi, a deep frown creasing his age lined forehead. Hotpi brushed off the statement with a wave of his hand.

“He has no claim on her.”

“By her own words he does,” the old man glared at Hotpi.

“That will do, WerAt,” Hotpi said in a low threatening voice and the old man took a step back with a quick nod of his head.

“Forgive,” he said.

“Fix Heru’s Pride and Anate is Blessed to my racing chariot, I wish to show Nefertiti the raceway.”

I wanted to rip my hand out of his and spit at him. Once again I was just a commodity to be talked about, bartered, used and then thrown away. 

Hotpi fixed me with those liquid brown eyes of his.

“Is everything all right?” He cocked his head to the side and smiled. “WerAt is my grandfather. Forgive my rudeness. He is Lord Yuya, the Master of Horse, Aye’s father, your guardian,” his voice rose at the end along with his eyebrows. 

I must have appeared puzzled as he continued to add description upon description. I wet my lips and took a breath.

“I am Helen, Queen of Sparta, daughter of a god and will be treated as such.” A chill ran over me as I spoke the words. Hotpi dropped my hand and took a step back, then bowed deeply at the waist.

“Forgive me, Nefertiti,” he said remaining bent over.

“You will not call me Nefertiti, I am Helen,” I said my voice quivering with suppressed emotion. I swallowed. Hotpi stood up and looked me in the eyes. The urge to turn and run caused my leg muscles to bunch up preparing to do just that, but his eyes, his eyes held me fast. 

“As you wish, but I still want to show you the raceway. That is why my family stays here in MenNefer, to race,” he said a smile curling his full lips, the skin around his eyes crinkling. “Come Helen,” he said reaching out for my hand.

To Market To Market...

Today is the 25th day of October which means we are 6 days away from... drum roll please....
NANOWRIMO! Applause.
I am partaking this year and I'm not alone this time. After returning to the community of Compuserve I will have a lot of wonderful thread mates to commiserate with. I am so excited.

So without further ado I am going to post another segment of my current WIP "Unquiet My Heart."

Unquiet My Heart copyright 2012 Debra J. Giuffrida, all rights reserved.

Lady TasheritRa

With a string of copper debens and a small bag of barley in each of our hands Tepi and I set out to the marvelous market here in Waset to purchase a gift for MaatKaRa and if we were frugal shoppers perhaps something for ourselves.

Brother had arranged a carrying chair for us. It was wonderful. Four armed guards lifted us up as we sat inside pillow-filled luxury.

“Tashi, I feel so rich,” Tepi said spreading the curtains aside just enough to stick her nose through. “I can see everyone through these curtains; do you think they can see us?” I pulled her back.

“Stop that, Ahhotep,” I hissed taking my sister by the shoulders and facing her forward. “They can see you and some of them aren’t very happy, so sit up straight and don’t stare at anyone. We’ll embarrass brother.” What I didn’t want to admit to my sister was I felt ill as we sat within this grand carrying chair watching as people stepped out of our way. When the runner in front of our chair yelled at them, I cringed and whenever he hit slow movers with his staff I felt their pain wash over me in great awful waves. It hurt so much I was afraid that welts would rise on my arms and back.

With relief we arrived at the market and the first thing I noticed when we were handed down from the chair were the raw smells. Breathing deeply the aroma of spices and burning incense filled my nose.

“Too bad we have already eaten, Tashi, do you smell the bread?” Ahhotep stuck her nose in the air, closed her eyes and sniffed. “Oh,” she pulled on my arm, “look over there, melons. Do you think we could buy some? We haven’t had any melons since we left Imet,” Ahhotep said pointing to the stall where there were great piles of green striped fruit.

I looked around at the many sellers of produce; their stalls were overflowing with lettuce and onions and all manner of vegetables and fruit. Ahhotep and I walked hand and hand down the aisles under sagging awnings past the farmers and we soon found ourselves in front of a weaver’s large stall. His tables were stacked with neatly folded piles and thick bolts of cloth. The colors were dazzling—reds and blues and yellows and mixtures of each. We kept on walking listening to the vendors sing out the qualities of their wares and watching as other nebets haggled over their purchases. We wove in and around buyers and sellers and stepped over children playing in the dirt. It was loud. Babies cried, dogs barked, it was wonderful.

“Oh, Tepi, look at these beautiful earrings,” I said walking up and reaching for one of a pair of delicate earpieces with green faience beads that dangled from small chains of gold. “These would look lovely on you.” I held them up next to my sister’s ears.

“They are lovely, Tashi, but they look expensive. Besides, Sen gave us these deben to buy a present for–”

“Expensive? Nonsense, we have more than enough to buy for ourselves too,” I said putting down the earrings and moving on towards a necklace.

“Ah, nebet, I see you have exquisite taste,” the approaching vendor said reaching over and holding up another pair of earrings for me to admire.

“I do? Yes, I do, but I prefer this pair,” I said passing over the vendor’s choice and reaching for a pair of large circles of gold with what appeared to be rubies set into a delicate filigree. “These,” I said turning to the vendor, “what are their price?”

“Oh Tashi, they are absolutely beautiful.” Ahhotep reached a hand out to touch the earrings but I drew them away, holding them up to my ears.

“What do you think?”

“They are very expensive, nebet,” the vendor said, “those are real gems from the mines deep within WaWat.”

Turning back towards the vendor I looked him full in the face. The door within my ka opened and I allowed the vendor’s ka to walk through. “Their price, neb?” I asked again watching and listening.

“Well, it is difficult to say, they are very rare, such as your beauty, lovely nebet,” the jeweler said brushing my hand with his fingertips as he reached for the earrings. “They highlight the delicate color of your skin,” he continued, smiling, his eyes assessing me. I want more than your deben little mew, I can make you purr. His ka spoke and I pulled my hand out of his reach.

“I am sure we can come to an agreeable price for this pair as well as that green pair and,” I paused looking down my nose at the rest of his wares, “something that would be suitable for the Per A’a.” I heard Ahhotep’s sharp intake of breath, and I was sure her eyes were wide and pleading.

“The Per A’a?” the jeweler sputtered. What does this one have to do with the Per A’a? He looked up and down the market then turned to rummage in a large leather strapped chest.

Happy Halloween!