Heather's Blog

I’m writing the first book in the new BBW spinoff series, The Kings. It’s called The Vampire King and features Roman D’Angelo – tall, dark, enigmatic and painfully powerful. Here’s a taste of what’s to come….

In the fresh silence, Evie could hear her heartbeat in her ears. At long last, the man looked away from the shop’s door and turned around.
His dark eyes found hers at once and the rest of the world receded.
Evie felt herself go very, very still, as if he could shackle her with no more than a look. Thoughts flew from her mind.
She heard her mouth speak without any conscious thought and could only hope it wasn’t saying something damningly stupid.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice a thousand miles away. “That was… pretty incredible.”
The stranger’s dark, dark eyes seemed to sparkle as if she could suddenly see their stars, and a second later, he smiled a smile that once more left Evie feeling breathless. His teeth were perfect, straight and white, and the expression softened his starkly handsome features into the visage of some Michelangelo angel. She felt, in that moment, as though one of the sculptor’s statues had come to life and entered the coffee shop.
“May I join you?” he asked, gesturing gracefully to the empty seat across from her at the small round table. His deep, smooth voice was like black velvet.
Evie opened her mouth again to reply – no, yes, of course you can, oh god please do – but nothing came out. Stupid, she thought. Stupid! You were able to speak before! At least smile at him!
Instead, she nodded.
Great. You dork.

One of my characters, Annabelle Drake from Hell Bent, is afraid to fly. She’s not just slightly against it or gently opposed to it, either. She absolutely, hands-down despises it and would almost do anything else. Luckily for her, she has a man who isn’t afraid to knock her ass out in order to get her on the plane, so she gets to land without ever knowing she’s taken off.
Me, on the other hand? I’m horribly conscious for the entire duration, and believe me – Annabelle Drake and I have a LOT in common.
Which brings me to the point at hand. I’m about to get on a plane again. For as much as I abhor it, I sure do a lot of air travel. Only, I don’t have Jack Thane to sneak up behind me with his incredible grace and stealth and put me to sleep. I have to find some other way to get my mind off of the possibility that at any second, I might tumble from the skies and be far too AWARE of my impending doom for several seconds – even minutes – before I hit the ground.
But no problem. I’ve got something that just might do the trick.
I’m working on the first book in the new BBW spinoff series, The Kings. It’s hot, it’s full of dangerously hot good guys and cruel, charismatic bad guys, and all of the shades of gray in-between. If I can just focus on what Hot Baddie is planning to do next, and what smart, loveable Heroine and Mr. Not-as-bad-as-the-other-guy are going to do about it, I might be able to get through the next seven hours.
Wish me luck.

I have to be honest with you. For some of us, the end of this year feels like the end of ten. 2011 was a veritable era – long and hard and filled with a plethora of changes, both good and bad.

It was a tiring year.
I moved three times. I worked harder than I’ve perhaps ever worked before in my life. I slept less. On an honest and personal note, I dealt with physical illness, loss and hardship.

It was an anxious year.
My first print book hit the shelves and it was a toss-up from the beginning. Where would the coin fall? What would happen? Everything was uncertain – how much money I would make, where we would live, how I would feel from one day to the next.

It was a year for experimenting.
I made two book trailers, began using Twitter, went on my first blog tour, and started various medications. Not sure how much good any of them have done, but that’s what experiments are all about.

It was a rewarding year.
All in all, I think I am better off in December than I was in January, if only for the friends I’ve made. Through the empathy that comes with solidarity, our bonds have grown stronger and our hearts softer. Some of us have learned lessons. Whether hard or easy, they’re always worth something.

The oddest thing of all is that I think I can tell you with complete sincerity that I am a different person now than I was twelve months ago. People rarely change. Oh, they grow older and they get nastier or sweeter and sometimes they dress differently. But underneath the layers, they remain frozen in the mold they were poured into at birth. And it is just so for most of me as well. I’ll always love my daughter, consider my husband my best friend, abhor politics and absolutely adore both classic rock and boots. But there’s something changed in there somewhere. It’s like someone used a different spice in the cooking. Life tastes different for me now. And I think it’s altered forever too.

So here we stand at the doorway to another four seasons, another twelve moons and another new era. We take a deep breath, shrug off the layers that crusted us over, and hope that the ones to come might not feel so heavy. We have wishes, each one of us; no amount of time can snuff them. We have dreams in our sights – they are the requisite to continued life.

We break open the champagne and count the seconds down and watch the sky explode with grins on our faces – and hope in our hearts. It’s what we do. Because whoever we are, wherever we are, and whatever befalls us, we are human.

And there’s always tomorrow.

Happy New Year everyone. May love and luck and peace be with you.

Over and out.

XOXO
– Heather K-W

Dr. Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog is my favorite movie in the world. The acting is superb and the length of the movie is perfect and the morals are fantastic – but it’s the SONGS I like best. In particular, ONE song: “My Eyes.”
Why?
Because that song says it all. Actually, Dr. Horrible’s part says it all – Penny’s part is ridiculously upbeat and moronically unrealistic, but of course that’s part of the charm of the song. It’s a Yin Yang of harmonies: light and dark, truth and lies.
I love to sing “My Eyes” at the top of my lungs while I’m driving down the street. I like to hum it to myself when I’m standing in the grocery line. I whisper the words under my breath when I’m at my computer dealing with the seemingly constant career-related crap that a very hard working indie publisher has to put up with.
I agree with Billy Buddy. “I cannot believe my eyes.” I can’t believe some of the things I come across. For instance, a reader who gets a completely FREE 350-page book on a free literature site and then becomes beligerent and down-right rude because to read the sequel she might actually have to pay three whole dollars for it. Less than the cost of a cup of coffee or, hell, even a bottled freaking water. Oh my God, what has the world come to? She might have to pay an author for all of their hard work???!!!
I cannot believe my eyes.
I’m bowled over by how selfish and short-sighted people seem to be these days. Like most indie publishers, I charge next to nothing for my books. I work until four in the morning writing them. I put aside sleep and time with my family and work-out sessions in order to slam my fingertips repeatedly against the keyboard so that the world can be entertained. I take a great chance in sharing the words I place upon my screen. I put myself out there – exposing the core of me to hundreds of thousands of people. That takes guts. Hard work, guts – that is the crux of the indie publisher. And miss cheapo supremo is pissed because she got something for free.
Wow.
I think I’ll watch the doc and Penny harmonize about the dual nature of the universe now and scream along with it at the top of my lungs until I feel a little less irritated.
And then I’ll sing “Brand New Day.”

Drake of Tanith, the long awaited sequel to The Chosen Soul is out NOW! And for only $2.99, it’s a sweet addition to the library on your new Kindle Fire or Nook Color. Not only that, but The Chosen Soul is on promotion for $1.00. Four dollars = two amazing, romantic fantasy reads with gorgeous bad guys, dangerous good guys, and the promise of more to come. Does it get better than this?

Happy Holidays and Happy, Safe, Peaceful New Year. xoxo

It’s something you can’t know about until you’re actually there, staring down that long passageway at the waiting darkness. They say there’s a silver lining to every cloud. But sometimes when it rains, it just pours, and sometimes there is no light at the end of the tunnel.

The light goes out when you reach a kind of point of no return. Most of the time, problems pile up at a regular rate and you sift through them and handle them one at a time and you can see the bottom if you squint hard enough. But every once in a while – or maybe just once in a life time – the pile becomes too high. It buries you. You can’t breathe, you can’t move, you become tired, and you give up. That’s when the light goes out. That’s when the silver lining around the cloud just becomes a blurred vision of yet more rain.

I know that now.

I know what it feels like when life spins out of control. I’m the most vice-less person I’ve ever known. I don’t drink, I don’t smoke, I don’t take recreational drugs. I am a vegetarian and I take my vitamins. I always wear my seat belt. And yet, at this moment, I am realizing that there are probably coke addicts out there who have more power over their hourly existences than I do.

That sucks. It sucks to squint as hard as you possibly can and still not see that silver lining or that bottom of the pile or that light at the end of the darkness that guides your way. You literally don’t know what to do any longer. Where do you start at the beginning of each day? What do you try – and fail – to tackle first? It really sucks. But you know what sucks even more?

I think I hear a train coming.

Unfortunately, the release of Secretly Sam, the second book in The October Trilogy, hit a big technical snag. I tried to post information about this on the website and also through my Facebook pages, but many readers are still looking for Secretly Sam – unsuccessfully. I promise to keep everyone updated on its progress and as soon as I have definitive information about its release, I will let everyone know (via Twitter, my Facebook pages, and here on my website). In the meantime, keep a lookout for another upcoming release – Drake of Tanith. 🙂 xoxo

I can’t be the only human being on the planet who cringes when that early morning rooster starts crowing on all of those on-the-farm movies. The thing gives me the chills. But I’m not a fan of mornings.

Still, at least the cock is up with the sun and not before it. Human beings have so tailored themselves to an early morning way of life, most of us have to rise before nature’s natural alarm clock (i.e., the sun, people) in order to get to work on time. Or do anything else of value, for that matter.

Case in point: I need to get my blood tested on a regular basis because of my thyroid. But in order to get blood drawn, I have to show up between 8 and 8:30 a.m., the only times the lab is open for blood work. If I can’t make this time, I have to schedule an appointment with the doctor.

Here’s something that I’m learning most people don’t know. Artists have a greater ratio of night owls to early birds than any other personality type. That means actors, writers, singers, painters, sculptors – you name it – like to work late and sleep in. I honestly don’t know why this is, but I’ve found it to be exceedingly true as far as I’m concerned. Several years ago, when I had to wake up at 4:30 in order to hit the road by 6:30 so that I could make it to work by 7:30, for instance, I didn’t write a damn thing. No creative juices whatsoever. All I did was zombie my way through life, eat a bunch, and wish for death.

On the other hand, when I’m free to stay up until 4:00, my fingers flying across the keyboard as my mind spins through universes filled with paranormal fantasies, I turn out a good deal of high quality work.

Now, if I’m not mistaken, art is important to people. When was the last time you saw a teenager who DIDN’T have ear buds in their ears? Music speaks to us, keeps us going. My readers yearn for sequels as if they were butter-cream-frostinged cake. And don’t even get me started on movies. Everyone loves a good movie.

So why are the early birds in charge? Why do they get to make the rules? And why – oh why – are night owls looked down upon as “lazy,” or “irresponsible?” I’ve even heard a few early birds go so far as to refer to night owls as “people who don’t contribute to society.”

I’m sorry. But if anyone isn’t contributing to society, it’s the early birds. When was the last time you turned on your stereo so that you could tune into your corporation’s 8 a.m. meeting minutes?

Forever 21 recently came out with a line of clothing for women that has me shaking my head. The tops read, “Allergic to Algebra,” “School Sucks,” and “I Love School… Not.” There are others as well: “A = Amazing, B = Brilliant, C = Cool, D = Delightful, F = Fabulous.”
There are no shirts along these lines offered for the men, of course. Not that I’m surprised. What guy would admit to not being fond of math?
This reminds me a little too much of the Barbie “Math is hard, let’s go shopping” fiasco. Forgive me if I’m wrong, but haven’t women been fighting tooth and nail to obtain some semblance of academic equality with their male counterparts for hundreds of years? Does this line not throw all of that effort into the toilet – and flush twice?

Ten years down time’s winding road, and I still cringe when I see a jet airplane go anywhere near a tall building. I suppose I always will.

I was in law school when the Towers went down. I sat in the basement with my fellow students and watched them fall. For the next few days, I moved in a nightmare state, numb and aching at the same time. Now, three thousand six hundred and fifty days later, I still don’t understand.

On the Thursday after that fated Tuesday, my law school gathered on its front lawn and I stood before them to read a poem. I’d penned it late forty hours earlier, in the middle of what seemed like an endlessly long and dark night.

I haven’t laid eyes upon it in nearly ten years. But it’s time. In memory of everything this country saw, heard and felt on that day a decade ago, here is “Half Mast.”

Half Mast

Our flag flew at half-mast
The day the Worlds came crashing down
The sky, its eagles grounded,
Lapsed to haunting, silent sound.

Where once there stood a skyline
Known all the world around,
A funeral pyre of freedom
Rose from newly hallowed ground.

My stars and stripes and courage
Are stronger with my pain
My memory, in honor
of their lives,
-forever stained.

My heart beats at half-mast, today
My tears, like Towers, fall.
My soul is tired, my spirit raw,
My ache wrapped up in calm.

But where strength is called to question,
I know that hardship gives it birth
And I hold this truth to be self evident:
That we will
forever stay
The Greatest Nation
on this earth.

– By Heather Killough-Walden
Dedicated to the American men and women
who lost their lives on September 11, 2001.