Author: Jeffe Kennedy

How to Stay Young Forever

Jeffe Kennedy / / Blog

We just spend the weekend in Las Vegas, celebrating my mom’s birthday.

I may or may not be hungover still.

This was a big birthday for her, with a zero at the end. I’m not allowed to say how old she is, but I’m 45 and she was 24 when I was born. You do the math.

And, yes, feel free to be awed by how fabulous she looks.

The four of us, my Mom, Stepdad Dave, my David and I had the best time. We went to see a burlesque show that was amazing (Crazy Horse, at the MGM), drank pitchers of mojitos at the pool, walked all over, saw Phantom of the Opera, lunched at Sammy Hagar’s and walked all over some more. My David commented that we could hardly keep up with them.

Good times.

When my David said how full of energy they are, they said they just don’t feel old.

Amen.

And many, many happy returns, Mom.

Missives from the Land of the Navajo

Jeffe Kennedy / / Blog

This week I’m in Window Rock, Arizona, which is the capital city of the Navajo Nation. The town is named for Window Rock itself, a gorgeous and inspiring natural monument. The Navajo use the place to honor their dead and missing, particularly from the wars. There’s a special monument just for the wind talkers.

Last night, after we finished work, we were able to get up there to walk around and watch the sun set and the moon rise.

Lovely way to end the day.

Meankitty Shreds the Vampire

Jeffe Kennedy / / Blog

So, I befriended another Carina Press author. (Or now I see – perhaps she lured me in??) I’m a softy, you know. I offered her a guest spot on Ze Olde Blog, coincidentally when I’ll be out of town for the #dayjob. I’m a softy, but I’m not stupid.

But, it turns out, you know that website I’ve been looking at all these years – Mean Kitty? Well, sweet little Jody Wallace turns out to be Mean Kitty’s human servant! And the guest blog? Pah! Jody just let Mean Kitty have at one of my stories and now it’s totally been kittified.

Read on, if you dare.

***

 Feeding the Van Cat

 Through good luck despite her canine leanings, Misty has survived the earthquakes that have torn the world apart, but has no skills to speak of. Or so she thinks. She does have opposable thumbs, and someone must feed the Turkish Van cat who has offered to let her pet his silky, water-resistant fur, and possibly save civilization as we know it, in exchange for sustenance.

 Feeding Ivan is a priority, and Misty finally serves a purpose. Prior to Ivan, she’d actually imagined herself…a DOG person. But when she awakens in Ivan’s spot in the bed, beside a rodent gift from the townsfolk on her pillow, she discovers he has hungers other than canned Fancy Feast. Hungers he expects her to satisfy, since catching mice is beneath him. Today. Unless he’s in the mood. Which he isn’t, so could she please arrange for that?

 Under Ivan’s red-eyed, sharp-clawed persuasion, Misty discovers she has the power to set “Have-a-Heart” traps in hallways, in the pantry, or even under the fridge, and not squeal like a big, silly dog when she discovers a mouse in the trap, awaiting Ivan’s pleasure.

 ***

 Feeding the Van Cat: Corrected & Cattified Excerpt:

 I was compelled to feed him. I had no choice, really. He was so beautiful.

 Earl cleared his throat. “Thank you.” Our town administrator looked around for agreement, but they weren’t meeting his eyes either. Like kids ducking the teacher’s gaze. “Whatever, Misty. We’re all SO happy you get to be.” He trailed off in a sulk.

 A cat servant? Surely no one wanted to be reminded of what they’d be missing. Martyr to the cat?  No, not much better.

 Earl shuffled the papers in his lap. Waiting for me to gloat, I supposed. Well, he had just said that feeding Ivan ought to be the first order of business. We couldn’t very well make plans for our community while the cat in charge of keeping elegance and sophistication alive went hungry, especially since we needed him alert and fat. Me? No one understood why I’d been chosen. I hadn’t brought much to the table so far, what with my love for dogs, and my survival was accidental. Right place at the right time. Turns out stolid New England was just the right place to be for the particular form this apocalypse took. Granite bedrock and all that.

 My boring hometown was a safe haven and everyone wanted in on our resources and cat population. The people turning up every day were let in or turned away depending on whether they liked dogs or cats. I counted my lucky stars I’d been grandfathered in simply because my neighbors didn’t have the heart to kick me out. Excellent keyboarding skills and a dog-friendly personality didn’t count for much in a cat’s opinion. Especially without, um, working keyboards.

I couldn’t afford to brag about being chosen to serve our savior.

Their hearts would harden-they already had. Tonight was pivotal. We’d acquired a Turkish Van cat of our own to preserve civilization here.

Everyone felt better about our future-if we could keep him happy. At least I knew how to open cans. You could say I was a natural.

 And yet, the certainty that had propelled me to my feet seemed to be bleeding away, frightened off by Ivan’s fixed intensity and everyone else’s jealousy. They waited, grumbling, for me to just get on with it. Uncomfortable silence.

 Hi, I’m Misty and I’m a Dog Person. Or I was. I swear, I’m not anymore! I haven’t pet a single dog in twenty-seven days. Kind of a record for me really. Apparently I can learn.

 The Van cat just stared at me.

 I set my yellow pad on the chair and made myself walk across the circle to where he sat in the tacky folding metal chair. My sandals slapped lightly on the tiles, making tinny echoes. Ivan’s roving gaze sent tremors of anticipation in my fingers. His fur looked so silky….

 A few whispered conversations resumed. They probably didn’t like the creepy silence any more than I did. I appreciated their polite attempt not to beg Ivan to pick them instead. I’d never seen a Turkish Van cat swim, as they were reported to love doing-probably none of them had either.

 I stopped in front of Ivan. He rolled over, long, white legs sprawled out in careless indolence. He tilted his head at my hesitation and held out his paw as if to show me his gorgeous claws.

“Perhaps we should step out of the room?” I tried.

 “Meow meow.” His grave eyes watched me with avid intent.

 If I ran, he would definitely find the strength to hunt me down. After all, he’d walked into this room. Heck, he’d arrived at the bridge leading to our sleepy town only last night, offering his sophistication in return for our worship and sustenance. He had to have gotten there somehow.

 He batted my wrist with his paw pads, pricking me with claws of steel.

Exerting steady pressure, he dug in and pulled me closer, parting his lips. White fangs gleamed with fluorescent highlights. My heart thumped in panic, hot fear filling me.

 “Will it hurt?” My voice sounded thready, weak.

 Hunger flared in his eyes at the question. “Mew.”

 Ivan wrapped his paws around my vulnerable, bare arm. The sharp movement splintered any second thoughts. He kicked with his back legs and gnawed. My cheap cotton dress was no protection. The chafe of his claws sent tremors up my body. Terror flashed through me. What if he decided to sneak attack my legs next? From behind…the sofa???

 Then all thought and emotion burst in flame, immolating me through the fierce violence of his teeth sinking into my hand. I’m so sorry! I wanted to scream. I should have opened the can already! The agony of the deep puncture, fear feeding pain, fired through my blood. I struggled like a wild thing, without thought. Animal instinct screamed at me to flee, to escape by any means possible.

 The Van cat held me trapped. There was no escape for me, the mouse flailing under the cat’s paw. [[Meankitty’s note: that last phrase is ORIGINAL! The author totally wanted to go with this version in the first place but was forced to convert it to a romance novel between two-legger types by somebody who likes dogs, no doubt.]]

 My will, never my strong point, snapped. The fight ebbed away with the tide of my blood. The steady drop of pressure left me enervated, without resistance. Darkness filled my brain, prickled with sparking stars. I wilted, becoming a bit of detritus washed upon the floor next to Ivan’s chair. If he chewed off my thumb, my prized opposable thumb, I would be of no use to…anybody.

 Pain filled my veins, pumped through my heart. It replaced my blood, spiraling through my body from the insistent penetration of Ivan’s teeth in my hand. Meow meow meow! Helpless against the crashing waves, I relinquished my last hold on my embarrassing love for dogs and sank into the hot, tarry sea of oblivion.

***

 Jody Wallace, head staff member of the world-famous Meankitty, published the paranormal romance Pack and Coven with Carina Press in February 2012. Since it is about werewolf shifters and witches instead of cats, Meankitty cattified the book here:

http://blog.jodywallace.com/2012/03/cattification-pack-and-coven.html

You can see all cattifications done so far collected here:

http://blog.jodywallace.com/search/label/cattification

 You can find Meankitty’s actual site here: www.meankitty.com You can find Jody Wallace, her servant, here: www.jodywallace.com

PayPal Pain

Jeffe Kennedy / / Blog

It’s been all over the writer’s gossip circles this week, but a lot of you may not know what’s going on with Paypal.

This article gives a good summary of the situation. And the lovely and talented Stephanie Draven posted this excellent summary of the legal issues involved.

Essentially what’s going on is that PayPal – a company that processes online payments – has told some of its vendors that they cannot sell certain kinds of books. Smashwords, which is a self-publishing service, has agreed to comply, though the founder is unhappy. All Romance eBooks has apparently been asked to comply. What’s extraordinary about this is that PayPal is dictating what kind of erotica is okay to sell. While some of their no-no topics are consistent with many publishers – no rape for titillation, no bestiality, no pedophilia, no incest – they’ve verged into other areas as well, such as BDSM.

It’s not at all clear what kind of standard they’re applying. Even more unclear is why they get to. PayPal is a merchant attempting to apply pressure on other merchants dependent on their services to censor certain books.

Now I am a believer in access to books. To all books.

I’ve never subscribed to the idea that it somehow damages or poisons a person to read anything. All knowledge is worth having. It’s up to us, as thinking human beings, to decide what ideas to keep and which to discard. Also, I believe erotic fiction provides an outlet for enjoying the concept of a sexual practice that may never occur in real life.

Finally, I think allowing any censorship, on any basis, allows for censorship on other bases. One of my friends said a reader contacted her because she was upset about the presence of the “Christian Devil” in her books. It’s always an option, not to read. But other people should have the freedom to do so.

So, I’ve decided to close my PayPal account. I’m sorry, because I found their service convenient. I now have to mail a check where I once would have used PayPal. Some merchants, who only use PayPal, will no longer be accessible to me.

However, I cannot support their attempts at censorship.

Making Marketing Decisions

Jeffe Kennedy / / Blog

An oft-lamented part of being a writer is the promotions end.

Some writers are good at it, but for the most part, the majority of us are writers because we don’t like to sell stuff. Otherwise we’d have fabulous careers doing that. But we know that’s part of the gig. Even the big, traditionally published authors have to self-promote. And there’s this huge array of options for doing it.

Too huge, really.

Part of the problem is, there are a lot of scavengers out there wanting a bite of the writer’s kill. They see us as having this lovely, juicy carcass and they want some. This is part of being a primary producer – we have something to sell, so lots of secondary processors are willing to step up and get their percentage by helping us sell it. That sounds kind of bad and I don’t mean it that way – though it is the syndrome that’s driving more authors to self-publishing, to eliminate at least some of those middlemen and women.

Knowing that writers must invest in self-promotion, there are many venues out there offering to help. Now, not all are making money off of it. Chapters that host conferences are happy to take promotional materials for the goody bags or baskets of goodies for auctions. Blogs love to have guest posters, book bloggers like to do interviews and book giveaways. Then there’s the ads in magazines or on websites. The conferences and appearances.

I get these offers in my email, often sent by wonderful friends – here’s an opportunity for you! I look at it and try to decide if it’s worth the investment of my time and money.

Making decisions is an interesting thing. The “cide” in decide means to cut. As in incisive and excise and incisor. So when we make a decision, we cut away the other possibilities. And each decision alters our life path. Maybe in a minute way, but because I decided to do this, I am not doing that. So, each decision takes a commitment of energy. A bit of oomph behind the direction to create a vector.

Sometimes, I feel like I just don’t have the energy to decide just then.

So, I save these opportunity emails. And they pile up in my In-Box, a logjam of indecision. Like all log-jams, it’s much worse then, to deal with that huge, roiling mass of decisions than if I’d just handled them one by one.

Alas.

I’m happy to report my In-Box is empty now. All decisions made.

My criteria? I went back to Choosing the Happy. If it sounded fun and happy-making, I said yes. If for any reason it didn’t, I said no.

Hey – at least the river is running clear now!

Cats and Character Arcs

Jeffe Kennedy / / Blog

I posted this pic on Twitter and Facebook yesterday, so apologies if it’s a repeat for you.

It’s a good example, though, of what I let Isabel get away with. No, of course I can’t work very well like this – but do I scoot her off my desk? No no no. One sleepy stretch and contented purr and I’m putty in her so-fuzzy paws.

Part of this is because Isabel has never been a lap cat. In fact, we’ve taken to calling her Nearby Cat. She likes to be close by – e.g., where my keyboard should be – but rarely actually on us. Another favorite position of hers is to lie on the back of the chair or couch and put one paw on whoever is sitting there. Nearby cat.

But Isabel is changing as she gets older – a personality evolution that’s fascinating to observe. She turned six recently and is now a fully adult cat. Maine coon cats are different than many breeds in that they don’t get their full growth until about five years. Isabel is the baby of the family, too, and we still call her the Kitten. She came into our lives at a very dark time. We were in the middle of winter, our five-year old cat had just died of cancer and we’d also had to put down our ancient border collie. Isabel the Kitten brought much-needed light and life for all of us. So, though she’s adult now, compared to our 11 year-old border collie and 16 year-old senior cat, she’s a baby.

Except…

See, this is the interesting part. You’ve seen those videos where the kitty-cat chases the bear away? (Here’s one, if you haven’t.) Well, since we moved to Santa Fe, to this rural setting where coyotes, bobcats and mountain lions are part of the landscape she’s moved into a new phase of herself: Guard Cat.

She, the smallest family member, is the self- appointed protector of the entire household. She prowls the property lines. She watches out the windows. When she spots a coyote, she comes to tell us, tail-lashing with indignation.

Then, yesterday, senior-cat Teddy came to lie under my office chair while I was working. I didn’t know she was there. And I have a chair with wheels and a brick floor. Yes – I ran over Teddy’s tail AND caught some of the fur up in the bearings. If you’ve ever stepped on a cat’s tail, you can now hear the caterwauling that ensued. Before I’d managed to do more than stand, Isabel had bolted into the room, quivering, eyes dilated, ready to defend Teddy. By then Teddy was fine, but Isabel had to sniff her over and then prowl my entire office, checking security.

I have never had a cat like this.

More, Isabel never used to be like this. I wonder where it comes from, since she’s not learning it from the other animals. It’s something in her, some dormant instinct, perhaps, welling up to meet the challenges of her life. Along with this change has come the increased affection. She seeks me out for this together time and I find myself unable to deny her.

I’ve been thinking about long character arcs. I’m mulling over the next books in A Covenant of Thorns and thinking about the long-term journeys of the characters. More than just solve the immediate problem (run off that coyote) but how that changes the person over a lifetime (greater vigilance, protectiveness, affection).

After all, if a cat can change so much, how might a human grow?

Of course, it could be just that Isabel is an unusual heroine.

A Sliver of Something Special

Jeffe Kennedy / / Blog

I had a naked incubus in my bedroom. With a frying pan of half-cooked bacon and a hard-on. And a unicorn bite on his ass. Christ, this was turning out to be a weird morning.

~~ A Brush of Darkness, Allison Pang

Allison Pang and I have been friends and critique partners for, wow, over four years now? I know that’s not a huge span of time, but my how it has flown by. I remember when she sent me the first chapter of her A Brush of Darkness draft – and how gracefully she took it when I ripped it apart. The line above was part of the book even then and I remember her hesitating over whether to use it in querying. Oh she absolutely should. She did and now it’s hard to imagine it any other way.

So I’m delighted to host Allison for the release tomorrow of the sequel: A Sliver of Shadow. In honor of the occasion, Allison has arranged for you all to have a chance to win a special gift.

** I forgot to say — the contest runs through midnight eastern time on Wednesday, 2/29. **

I’m going to string balloons and streamers while she tells you about it.

One of the things I’ve always enjoyed about writing is not only putting the words on the page, but also envisioning certain scenes in my head.  What’s even more fun is getting a chance to see someone else’s vision of those same scenes.

Over the past year I’ve had the pleasure of receiving both gifts and commissions from several talented artists who have brought my characters to life in a way I never could, in the form of sketch cards  and trading cards and just lovely pieces of art.

I give away the trading cards on a regular basis, but to celebrate the release of A Sliver of Shadow, I wanted to offer up a custom one-of-a-kind sketch card as a prize to one lucky winner.  The art will be created by Aimo, who has done a number of pieces for me, and who will be collaborating with me on a graphic novel that will go live in the spring. (You can find out more about it over at Sad Sausage Dogs.)

The winner will receive a 2 x 3 inch sketch card, drawn, inked and colored with traditional media by Aimo. The scene can be anything from A Brush of Darkness or A Sliver of Shadow – winner’s choice, as long as it stays within the bounds of Aimo’s requirements (i.e. nothing overly explicit, etc.).

Leave a comment for a chance to win! (If you’d like to share your favorite scene, that would be great too.)