Reneé Porter's Blog
April 24, 2013
Pieces of April - Coming Within the Week!
The final volume of The Dreamville Trilogy, Pieces of April, is scheduled within the next week. All the questions and mysteries of the first two volumes – especially the ending of the first volume – is revealed. Look at my web site in the next few days for a sample of Pieces of April. Who would have ever thought that this trilogy would be a mash-up of a romance and science? Certainly not me, although the different versions of the Dreamville realities, or dimensions, could only be held together so tightly by the love of the two main characters.
The science of the idea that life is more than what we may ever fully comprehend, that it is an always changing landscape because of every choice we make or everything we do is one of the few things that drove this trilogy. Arthur C. Clarke’s quote that “any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic” was always in the back of my mind as the Dreamville Trilogy developed.
The other driving force was the losing battle to try to save my beloved’s life. Surely, somewhere, in some other magical place or dimension, there has to be a world where he survives or never becomes ill at all. The trilogy is my love letter to him while his long fought battle rages on and yet also winds down. What would we not do to save the life of those we love most?
I promised many of you, my faithful readers, a new world and I hope that Pieces of April fulfills that promise. Well. be prepared. There may be no spaceships, but there are doors into other lives, other roads not taken – all the new things science is discovering and revealing, the magic of science we do not yet see. I hope you enjoy it. And I did keep my promise to those of you who wrote me. Thank you for your faith in what I was trying to build with the Dreamville Trilogy and for your continued belief in it.
The science of the idea that life is more than what we may ever fully comprehend, that it is an always changing landscape because of every choice we make or everything we do is one of the few things that drove this trilogy. Arthur C. Clarke’s quote that “any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic” was always in the back of my mind as the Dreamville Trilogy developed.
The other driving force was the losing battle to try to save my beloved’s life. Surely, somewhere, in some other magical place or dimension, there has to be a world where he survives or never becomes ill at all. The trilogy is my love letter to him while his long fought battle rages on and yet also winds down. What would we not do to save the life of those we love most?
I promised many of you, my faithful readers, a new world and I hope that Pieces of April fulfills that promise. Well. be prepared. There may be no spaceships, but there are doors into other lives, other roads not taken – all the new things science is discovering and revealing, the magic of science we do not yet see. I hope you enjoy it. And I did keep my promise to those of you who wrote me. Thank you for your faith in what I was trying to build with the Dreamville Trilogy and for your continued belief in it.
November 29, 2012
Dreamville Sequel Released
The second volume of the Dreamville Trilogy, Gordon’s Dreams, is now available at Amazon in both Kindle and print formats. This volume, which takes place in Manhattan and Scotland, is told from Gordon’s point of view. It is a love story with a quite a bit of a twist. Questions from Dreamville are answered, but not everything in the first volume was as it seemed.
I liked playing with the idea of what is real and what is not, the idea of different times and even realities all centered upon the love of two people – the idea of using one reality to alter that of another, in other words, what would you do to save the life of the one you loved?
The first volume of Dreamville was told from April’s point of view and the second from Gordon’s. The third, which is already in progress and I’m hoping to have to the publisher this spring, will be told in the third person. And, while the plots sometimes seem non-linear, they have a singular purpose – the love of two people against great impediments.
I liked playing with the idea of what is real and what is not, the idea of different times and even realities all centered upon the love of two people – the idea of using one reality to alter that of another, in other words, what would you do to save the life of the one you loved?
The first volume of Dreamville was told from April’s point of view and the second from Gordon’s. The third, which is already in progress and I’m hoping to have to the publisher this spring, will be told in the third person. And, while the plots sometimes seem non-linear, they have a singular purpose – the love of two people against great impediments.
August 17, 2012
Dreamville Sequel to Be Released This Autumn
I can officially confirm via my publisher that the sequel to Dreamville will be available this autumn. If you were suprised by the final chapter of Dreamville, get ready for answers and more surprises. In Dreamville, nothing is ever what it seems.
July 12, 2012
The Storm
I had no idea that the orange, horizontal lightning would change me in such a short time. I had walked to our mailbox just as the clouds quickly rolled across the sky and I stopped in the intersection to watch the light show overhead.
It reminded me of watching what my father called heat lightning one summer night so long ago and that memory made me miss him more than I have in the past few years. Neighbors came into the street as the power went off and we all stood together watching the sky as it turned from yellow-orange to gray. Little was said and I think we were all lost in our own memories and thoughts.
I left the small cluster and by the time I had reached the wrap around porch of our Queen Anne house, the wind had arrived. Rob met me at the side door and urged me to come in, but I remembered my plants and ran to move them. By the time I had finished my tasks, I had reached the curve in the porch and turned my face away from the wind just to see the top of the maple tree across the street being sheared off, lifted and dropped onto the empty neighboring house. All I could think of was broccoli and the way I removed the stems from the florets.
I called out to Rob and I tried to move forward to him. I leaned into the wind and stretched my hand out to him as I could not move forward, but he could not hear me as he stared into the roaring wind. I had never stood in wind gusts that strong and I had survived two hurricanes. It became a moment frozen in my memory - the outstretched hand, the roar so loud that it deadened all other sound, and watching Rob stare into the face of the storm.
Few things frighten me, including the scary basement in my house that looks like the set of Saw. I handle emergencies well and I'm prepared for them, but that night I think I saw a future I am not ready for yet and it scared me - my hand reaching and finding no purchase in his.
One of the characters in my last book asked if great love required great sacrifice. I don't know. If you've been lucky and you find the right person at 19, you think that they'll always be there. Now, so many years later, I'm not so blind and all I can think of is that empty, outstretched hand and it terrifies me.
It reminded me of watching what my father called heat lightning one summer night so long ago and that memory made me miss him more than I have in the past few years. Neighbors came into the street as the power went off and we all stood together watching the sky as it turned from yellow-orange to gray. Little was said and I think we were all lost in our own memories and thoughts.
I left the small cluster and by the time I had reached the wrap around porch of our Queen Anne house, the wind had arrived. Rob met me at the side door and urged me to come in, but I remembered my plants and ran to move them. By the time I had finished my tasks, I had reached the curve in the porch and turned my face away from the wind just to see the top of the maple tree across the street being sheared off, lifted and dropped onto the empty neighboring house. All I could think of was broccoli and the way I removed the stems from the florets.
I called out to Rob and I tried to move forward to him. I leaned into the wind and stretched my hand out to him as I could not move forward, but he could not hear me as he stared into the roaring wind. I had never stood in wind gusts that strong and I had survived two hurricanes. It became a moment frozen in my memory - the outstretched hand, the roar so loud that it deadened all other sound, and watching Rob stare into the face of the storm.
Few things frighten me, including the scary basement in my house that looks like the set of Saw. I handle emergencies well and I'm prepared for them, but that night I think I saw a future I am not ready for yet and it scared me - my hand reaching and finding no purchase in his.
One of the characters in my last book asked if great love required great sacrifice. I don't know. If you've been lucky and you find the right person at 19, you think that they'll always be there. Now, so many years later, I'm not so blind and all I can think of is that empty, outstretched hand and it terrifies me.
June 28, 2012
New Novel Released! An Inquisition of Angels
An Inquisition of Angels, volume III of the Taliaferro Chronicles, has just been released and is available on Kindle now and the paper copy should be out in the next few days. The book is being offered at an introductory price on the Kindle for the next few weeks, then it reverts to its regular price of $9.99. Also, for those who are unfamiliar with the Chronicles, Amazon will be running a promo on the first volume on June 29 and 30!
April 12, 2012
There May Be Blood
I've been working on the next installment of the Taliaferro Chronicles. I now have an unhappy editor, a displeased publisher, and an angry friend. Why? Because a major character in the series might be about to die.
My publisher and editor are both happy with the chapters they've received. They just weren't too happy when I told them what I thought might happen.
I've tried to tell them that I didn't do it on purpose, but that has not appeased any of them in the least. My editor and publisher ask why mess with a good thing? My friend has "threatened" to be "very angry" with me if the character dies.
What can I do? I fear there may be blood. (Well, in my novels, there usually is blood.) Anyway, the novel is due at the publisher in less than a month for editing and cover art.
I wonder how much should we, as writers, allow our publishers and editors to steer our work? I just don't know. I'm sure Max Perkins would have an answer to that question, though.
At least Rob understands. When I explained the situation to him, he said that the book was already written in my subconscious and that I knew what had to be done and that I just had to finish it. Having an in-house shrink helps sometimes. Infuriating sometimes, but also honest.
Ah well, it's his birthday and I'm going to step away from the book for the day to fix his favorite matzoh ball and chicken soup with homemade apple pie for dessert. Maybe stirring the pot will reveal the end of the novel. You never know.
My publisher and editor are both happy with the chapters they've received. They just weren't too happy when I told them what I thought might happen.
I've tried to tell them that I didn't do it on purpose, but that has not appeased any of them in the least. My editor and publisher ask why mess with a good thing? My friend has "threatened" to be "very angry" with me if the character dies.
What can I do? I fear there may be blood. (Well, in my novels, there usually is blood.) Anyway, the novel is due at the publisher in less than a month for editing and cover art.
I wonder how much should we, as writers, allow our publishers and editors to steer our work? I just don't know. I'm sure Max Perkins would have an answer to that question, though.
At least Rob understands. When I explained the situation to him, he said that the book was already written in my subconscious and that I knew what had to be done and that I just had to finish it. Having an in-house shrink helps sometimes. Infuriating sometimes, but also honest.
Ah well, it's his birthday and I'm going to step away from the book for the day to fix his favorite matzoh ball and chicken soup with homemade apple pie for dessert. Maybe stirring the pot will reveal the end of the novel. You never know.
February 19, 2012
The Snowstorm
Many of you are probably suffering through this storm right now. It's a big one and I doubt if we'll have power by morning - the disadvantage of living in a very small town in the mountains.
But, there are advantages. After the snow had been falling for about an hour, I pulled on my daughter's pink and tan hand-me down boots, a water-proof North Face jacket, and headed down the mountain to the bridge over the Greenbrier.
No traffic. No sound. No people. Even the animals were silent throughout town. I kept thinking of the short story, Silent Snow, Secret Snow, as I walked. We haven't had much snow this winter and this storm was a reminder of things and times long past.
By the time I reached the bridge, the snow was making familiar landmarks fade into a white blur. Even the river disappeared into the thickening blind of white. I walked over to the town bandstand and sat on a bench in the center of it, thinking I might take a few pictures, but realizing it would be futile. The falling snow was simply too thick.
As I climbed the mountain back to my house, I noticed that my bootprints from descending the mountain were long gone. The trek to and from the bridge is one mile. As I neared the the halfway point, I had to make the decision of whether to climb the steep slope under tree branches burdened by inches of ice and snow or take the longer path up the center of the road.
I chose the shorter, yet harder and more dangerous path under the trees. My jacket was beginning to become crusted with snow and ice itself and as I walked under the trees, I could hear small and sharp cracking sounds overhead. I moved faster up the slope and within ten minutes I was home.
Now, five hours later, the snow still falls. The house is quiet except for the occasional snore of the boxer and Rob's footsteps upstairs as he prepares for bed. I'm getting ready to go back to the book I left behind last Saturday. Ending it will not be an easy task, but I rarely choose the easier path. Sometimes, the steeper climb is the better choice.
But, there are advantages. After the snow had been falling for about an hour, I pulled on my daughter's pink and tan hand-me down boots, a water-proof North Face jacket, and headed down the mountain to the bridge over the Greenbrier.
No traffic. No sound. No people. Even the animals were silent throughout town. I kept thinking of the short story, Silent Snow, Secret Snow, as I walked. We haven't had much snow this winter and this storm was a reminder of things and times long past.
By the time I reached the bridge, the snow was making familiar landmarks fade into a white blur. Even the river disappeared into the thickening blind of white. I walked over to the town bandstand and sat on a bench in the center of it, thinking I might take a few pictures, but realizing it would be futile. The falling snow was simply too thick.
As I climbed the mountain back to my house, I noticed that my bootprints from descending the mountain were long gone. The trek to and from the bridge is one mile. As I neared the the halfway point, I had to make the decision of whether to climb the steep slope under tree branches burdened by inches of ice and snow or take the longer path up the center of the road.
I chose the shorter, yet harder and more dangerous path under the trees. My jacket was beginning to become crusted with snow and ice itself and as I walked under the trees, I could hear small and sharp cracking sounds overhead. I moved faster up the slope and within ten minutes I was home.
Now, five hours later, the snow still falls. The house is quiet except for the occasional snore of the boxer and Rob's footsteps upstairs as he prepares for bed. I'm getting ready to go back to the book I left behind last Saturday. Ending it will not be an easy task, but I rarely choose the easier path. Sometimes, the steeper climb is the better choice.
February 11, 2012
So Much For Plans
I don't like trying to read two books at once, but somehow I've ended up doing exactly that. I suppose it's a desperate attempt to forestall the inevitable - I must make a decision about my book.
Either way, I was through half of 11/22/63 when I read the first few pages of the Hunger Games and could not stop. So, King gets left on the shelf and the other book I can't put down.
But still, I'm trying to keep my mind off the almost finished book that I know needs to rest. Or at least I do. I'm going to let my mind wander about for a bit and see if something wakes me up and is screaming "Write this down, now!" (which some writers will tell you happens more often than they'd like to admit.)
I'm glad I'm a fast reader. I should be through Hunger Games sometime tomorrow and I can start the next week out with a fresh outlook.
But you know the part about getting some sleep? Not going to happen. Probably not for a long time, either. But that's another story, too.
Either way, I was through half of 11/22/63 when I read the first few pages of the Hunger Games and could not stop. So, King gets left on the shelf and the other book I can't put down.
But still, I'm trying to keep my mind off the almost finished book that I know needs to rest. Or at least I do. I'm going to let my mind wander about for a bit and see if something wakes me up and is screaming "Write this down, now!" (which some writers will tell you happens more often than they'd like to admit.)
I'm glad I'm a fast reader. I should be through Hunger Games sometime tomorrow and I can start the next week out with a fresh outlook.
But you know the part about getting some sleep? Not going to happen. Probably not for a long time, either. But that's another story, too.
February 10, 2012
Two Months and a Trunk
Two months into my newest novel and I fear it will become a trunk novel. I feel that I may be pulled back into the world of the Taliaferro Chronicles. Several times I have found myself thinking of the characters I left there, which, of course, is not what I should be doing.
Characters are difficult to leave behind, especially if you feel there is more for them to say and do. I don't know what I'll do. I've promised my publisher a novel for this spring, but I wanted it to be the novel on which I've been working.
But, if you've read both volumes of the Taliaferro Chronicles, you'll understand when I say that I keep thinking about Pea driving to the hospital.
I'm giving myself the weekend off to decide what to do. I now have two novels almost ready for publication, but for personal reasons, they won't be released for a while. I'm hoping for a long while.
So, in the meantime I'm going to watch old movies, do some much neglected housework, and actually go to bed before 4 a.m. Now that is a novel idea.
Characters are difficult to leave behind, especially if you feel there is more for them to say and do. I don't know what I'll do. I've promised my publisher a novel for this spring, but I wanted it to be the novel on which I've been working.
But, if you've read both volumes of the Taliaferro Chronicles, you'll understand when I say that I keep thinking about Pea driving to the hospital.
I'm giving myself the weekend off to decide what to do. I now have two novels almost ready for publication, but for personal reasons, they won't be released for a while. I'm hoping for a long while.
So, in the meantime I'm going to watch old movies, do some much neglected housework, and actually go to bed before 4 a.m. Now that is a novel idea.
