Barbara Neville's Blog - Posts Tagged "adventure"

I reached 15,000 words (into the sequel) yesterday! Still typing...

***SPOILERS***
This review contains spoilers!
[Following is the official OnlineBookClub.org review of "On the Rocks" by Barbara Neville.]

On the Rocks is a space Western set in an intriguing future. The greatest strength of this book is its narrator, Roxanne Rockefeller, a profane, feisty cowgirl. Neville has created a genuinely fresh and well-developed character in Roxanne, a young woman who rides out in her best riding finery, complete with guns, a knife… and grenades.

Early in the book, when it seems that Roxanne is a bit too prone to swearing (take a guess at which cuss word is repeated as the first seven words of the book!), Roxanne gives a spirited defense of her filthy mouth, which both humorously justifies her style of talking, while adding depth to her character. I would have thoroughly enjoyed it if the novel were all about Roxanne rambling about the state of the world and her opinions on everything, but as it stands, On the Rocks launches into a page-turning adventure, although some passages are confusing and I had to reread some chapters where certain events seemed to be worded in too vague a manner.

Neville’s wild frontier is set in what is probably the future, where the world outside of the free wilderness is ruled by a seemingly benevolent but truly manipulative government, where history is heavily edited to fit the regime’s agendas, and selling meat is profitable business on planets where people are compelled to be vegetarians. There are numerous elements of this fictional universe that remind me of one of my all-time favorite television series, Firefly, and this book can be strongly recommended to fans of the Firefly/Serenity universe.

Unfortunately, this futuristic setting is a bit more sparsely described than I would have liked– it would have helped if Neville fleshed out her fictional world’s mythology a bit more to show a bit more about its development. If On the Rocks is meant to be the start of a series, then I retract that criticism, since future books might by necessity expand upon Neville’s involving fictional world.

Over the course of this book, Roxanne explores, and meets a variety of people with diverse backgrounds, but these characters are united by their shared genuine love for the cowboy lifestyle. The great joy of this book is watching these characters go about their travels, interact, converse, and reflect upon what they want from life.

I give this book three out of four stars.

I actually wrote that the other night. I was tired, the kid, Hammer, had more to say. This guy is a fictional character.
The next day, I’m at the Tucson Festival of Books, signing books, schmoozing, whatever that is. I’m going to these fabulous presentations by authors, whose books I have been reading most of my life. One of these well known authors, whose mysteries you’ve probably read. And whose name I have unfortunately lost in the mix. It would have been Anne Hillerman, Margaret Cole, J. A. Jance. Or else one of the Robert B. Parker Heirs: Ace Atkins, Robert Knott or Reed Coleman. In any case, all six, of course, mentioned character. Because their characters are great. Their characters rule there books, awesomely. People in the audience as well as the authors spoke of them as if they were real people we all know and expect to walk in the door and join us. Anne Hillerman pointed that out, too, or was it Margaret Cole?
The thing one or more of them mentioned that I want to talk about here, is a pretty universal fact. Even though we authors are creating the characters and should therefore be able to create their personalities, twitches, habits and, well, everything; it’s not the best way to go.
A character at original formation, short of the author getting out the big stick and beating them with it, will grab the ball and run.
Now me? I’m a liberated parent. I let them.
We’ll take the case of Hammer for my illustration. He made a small, bit part, a mere guest appearance in my fifth book. Just to make a scene more interesting. A war veteran, like most of the characters in my books, but grievously and forever wounded. His bit part was a one off for “Rogue Lightning”. I needed Hammer for a few scenes. Then, a few more scenes.
Okay, the scenes became big. Maybe a couple of chapters, just to move the plot forward. Sure, no problem.
Hammer disagreed.
He grabbed the reins and sunk in his spurs. And, it was fine, I like Hammer. He’s a killer, literally and also a big lovable nineteen year old, pathologically happy kid. Think of that friend you have who is always happy, always says he having, not just a great, but a fabulous day.
That’s Hammer. We have great fun with Hammer all through book five. He’s the perfect character, easy to torture. Plus, he always bounces back with a smile.
Okay, there’s the rub. Book six. Hammer’s back for his farewell lines. It was a good run kid, thanks for the memories.
I start a new chapter. Might be the first chapter. Hammer’s there, tapping on the virtual door, saying, “Hey, I’d be perfect for this scene.”
So, I’m sitting here at the keyboard, thinking; ‘Well, yeah, he would. And he’s funny.’
Uh oh, I like funny, especially smartass humor. He and Annie play well off of each other.
The kid has a smart mouth, a handsome smile. He’s tall, good looking, muscular. He’s, in my head and on paper, irrepressible. And with, all the scene stealing, irascible.
A blatant stealer. Wolf, Spud and Buzz want space too. They’re fun, funny, sexy. Handsome, muscular, tall. They all have their own smart mouths. Quirky humor. They’re all different, have their own strengths and weaknesses.
But Hammer, damn it, there’s something about this kid. Annie mentions it, too. Book eight? Hammer’s still there, stage left, grinning.
I often wonder, is Hammer ruining my books? Should I knock the guy off? I have the power. Maybe. Or is Hammer that one character, the pivotal character that everyone loves? Like Spenser, Jim Chee, Hawk. Especially Hawk.
I’m not biased here. I still love the other guys. Annie has been known to say, “Whichever of the guys I’m with is the one I like best.”
Me too. The guy, whichever one of the four, in the scene is awesome. I often think, if Annie chose one and settled down, which would it be? And that’s the answer, the one I’m writing at the moment. As soon as I switch to another, he seems like the keeper. Could be any of them.
But, Hammer? Book nine is about twenty-two percent done, mostly with Hammer scenes left over from editing book eight. ‘Cause he’s stealing space. Still. Bastard.
Damn it, I may never get rid of the big lovable guy. Not sure I want to.

Rogue Lightning (Spirit Animal #5) by Barbara Neville
I actually wrote that the other night. I was tired, the kid, Hammer, had more to say. This guy is a fictional character.
The next day, I’m at the Tucson Festival of Books, signing books, schmoozing, whatever that is. I’m going to these fabulous presentations by authors, whose books I have been reading most of my life. One of these well known authors, whose mysteries you’ve probably read. And whose name I have unfortunately lost in the mix. It would have been Anne Hillerman, Margaret Cole, J. A. Jance. Or else one of the Robert B. Parker Heirs: Ace Atkins, Robert Knott or Reed Coleman. In any case, all six, of course, mentioned character. Because their characters are great. Their characters rule there books, awesomely. People in the audience as well as the authors spoke of them as if they were real people we all know and expect to walk in the door and join us. Anne Hillerman pointed that out, too, or was it Margaret Cole?
The thing one or more of them mentioned that I want to talk about here, is a pretty universal fact. Even though we authors are creating the characters and should therefore be able to create their personalities, twitches, habits and, well, everything; it’s not the best way to go.
A character at original formation, short of the author getting out the big stick and beating them with it, will grab the ball and run.
Now me? I’m a liberated parent. I let them.
We’ll take the case of Hammer for my illustration. He made a small, bit part, a mere guest appearance in my fifth book. Just to make a scene more interesting. A war veteran, like most of the characters in my books, but grievously and forever wounded. His bit part was a one off for “Rogue Lightning”. I needed Hammer for a few scenes. Then, a few more scenes.
Okay, the scenes became big. Maybe a couple of chapters, just to move the plot forward. Sure, no problem.
Hammer disagreed.
He grabbed the reins and sunk in his spurs. And, it was fine, I like Hammer. He’s a killer, literally and also a big lovable nineteen year old, pathologically happy kid. Think of that friend you have who is always happy, always says he having, not just a great, but a fabulous day.
That’s Hammer. We have great fun with Hammer all through book five. He’s the perfect character, easy to torture. Plus, he always bounces back with a smile.
Okay, there’s the rub. Book six. Hammer’s back for his farewell lines. It was a good run kid, thanks for the memories.
I start a new chapter. Might be the first chapter. Hammer’s there, tapping on the virtual door, saying, “Hey, I’d be perfect for this scene.”
So, I’m sitting here at the keyboard, thinking; ‘Well, yeah, he would. And he’s funny.’
Uh oh, I like funny, especially smartass humor. He and Annie play well off of each other.
The kid has a smart mouth, a handsome smile. He’s tall, good looking, muscular. He’s, in my head and on paper, irrepressible. And with, all the scene stealing, irascible.
A blatant stealer. Wolf, Spud and Buzz want space too. They’re fun, funny, sexy. Handsome, muscular, tall. They all have their own smart mouths. Quirky humor. They’re all different, have their own strengths and weaknesses.
But Hammer, damn it, there’s something about this kid. Annie mentions it, too. Book eight? Hammer’s still there, stage left, grinning.
I often wonder, is Hammer ruining my books? Should I knock the guy off? I have the power. Maybe. Or is Hammer that one character, the pivotal character that everyone loves? Like Spenser, Jim Chee, Hawk. Especially Hawk.
I’m not biased here. I still love the other guys. Annie has been known to say, “Whichever of the guys I’m with is the one I like best.”
Me too. The guy, whichever one of the four, in the scene is awesome. I often think, if Annie chose one and settled down, which would it be? And that’s the answer, the one I’m writing at the moment. As soon as I switch to another, he seems like the keeper. Could be any of them.
But, Hammer? Book nine is about twenty-two percent done, mostly with Hammer scenes left over from editing book eight. ‘Cause he’s stealing space. Still. Bastard.
Damn it, I may never get rid of the big lovable guy. Not sure I want to.
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Proposed chapter 1 of Book 8 "Broken Warrior":
“What?”
I just sat up. Jolted out of sleep, fast, scared. The blankets are tangled around me. I look around. It’s gone.
There’s someone sitting on the couch, they’re facing the other way, toward a big window. The back of their head seems fuzzy.
“Nightmare, babe?”
He’s looking over his shoulder, across the back of the couch, at me.
“It was a bear,” I say, rubbing my eyes to get rid of the fuzziness of sleep. “He walked over to me, then stood on his hind legs. He put his paws on my shoulders. His paws, the claws were huge.”
“Grizzly,” he says, nodding.
I stop to breathe. It’s still playing in my head. Real. I take a breath.
“Then, he leaned his head in toward me, like he was gonna kiss me, but he had those hairy bear lips. How can you kiss that?”
He chuckles.
I shake my head to get the cobwebs out. It hurts. I pick up the flask and have a jolt, for the pain.
“Anyway,” I say, “as he got close, he opened his mouth. It was huge, like my whole head would fit inside.
“He turned his head and I realized he wasn’t a grizzly. He was covered in scales, they rippled, refracting the light in a million colors. He was a velociraptor.”
“Shit,” he says. “Them again?”
I hold my hands up shoulder width apart, showing how big.
“His head was like this,” I say, “His teeth were huge, like scimitars. I turned my head and saw his dinosaur hands on my shoulders. I looked back and forth. He had three fingers. Three on each hand with huge ivory claws. He leaned closer, all I could see was his gaping mouth and pointy tongue. His huge teeth were closing over my face. And his claws were sinking into my shoulders. Blood was oozing out.”
I stop to catch my breath, scared by the telling of it.
“Then, I woke up.”
“Wow,” he says, standing up. “You need a hug.”
I see his claws and scream.
“It’s okay, babe,” he says. “I’m here.”
He’s walking closer.
“Stay away,” I say.
He looks confused.
“Oh,” he says, raising the claws. “Dro….”
It’s garbled, I don’t understand.
“What?” I’m looking around. I don’t see a way out. “Fuck. It’s me or them.”
“Babe,” he says. “It was just a dream.”
He’s still walking toward me, wild hair floating around his head. He’s huge and naked. His multicolor scales gleam in the light streaming in through the window. His forearms are covered in black feathers.
He reaches out with those claws. I put my hands on the bed under me and shift backwards, as fast as I can. My back hits the headboard. I look to both sides. He’s too close, I can’t escape.
He tilts his head, his iridescent scales rippling with the movement. When he breathes, flames shoot out of his mouth and nose.
He looks down, then up, and says, “Wait, you’re joking, right?”
I open my mouth, but no noise comes out. A silent scream.
“No, babe, it’s okay,” he says, looking down again. Moving his claws behind his back.
But, I know. I already saw them. He’s a shape shifter. Grizzly, dinosaur, man.
I scream and scream again. I pull the covers over my head and curl in a ball. I’m telling myself; stay still, maybe he can only see movement.
I hear his breathing, imagining the fire. I hear him grunt and turn. I hear the noise as he softly pads away.
It gets quiet. I stay there, hidden in the covers. I’m scared for so long, it’s exhausting.
***
I wake up. My bladder is about to burst. I have to leave the comfort of my blanket cave.
I open my eyes and peek out. He’s gone. No bear, no velociraptor. Which was it? Both, only the one, but he was both.
I get up, piss and find my clothes. I shower off the sweat of the dream. The hot water washes it all away. I dry off, wiping my breasts and my long legs, enjoying my lithe body. I check it out in the full length mirror. It looks strong.
I go out into the big room again. The bed is beyond the dark leather couch, against the far wall. The kitchen is closer, tucked into an alcove, with a square dining table between it and the couch. There’s a pool table and a drawing board off to the left.
The view out the big window is of sand and pounding surf. There’s a tide pool with a patient heron, standing stock still, fishing in it.
I sit on the couch and look out. Watching the surf, and wondering. There’s an open book laying on the end table. I feel disoriented. Nothing seems real. Where am I?
 

The latest book is available now for preorder on Amazon. http://www.amazon.com/Broken-Warrior-...
It is 99 cents now, will go up to $2.99 or $3.99 on May 5th, when it comes out. All preorders will be 99 cents.
Ebook format only at the moment. Paperback coming soon. I am working in a few last minute inspirations.
The book is now #4 in Hot New Releases, Western Science Fiction, #5 in Travel Adventure Fiction [and , wow, just above a Stone Barrington (Stuart Woods). That won't last.] It's #28 in Women's Adventure. All Hot New Release lists. Anyhow, we'll see if high placement, however transitory, helps sales.

I like a lot of dialogue in books.When I read the first page of a novel, that is what I look for, snappy dialogue. A born smartass, I look for friends who insult each other with regularity, like Spenser and Hawk (Robert B. Parker/Ace Atkins). Or Stone Barrington and Dino Bacchetti (Stuart Woods). How about Peabody and Emerson (Elizabeth Peters)? Now, there's a dynamic duo. I read those to my kids. And still read the new ones myself. Great works.
There's a difference between the three. Two are written in first person. Amelia Peabody and Spenser show us an engaging world seen through their eyes. Whereas, Stone Barrington, while written from his point of view, is third person. I love all three series, but the first person is me. I like the personal touch that only the "I" can give me. As much as I swallow up every book in the Stone Barrington series, I miss that special first person view.
Another good one is Stephanie Plum and Lula (Janet Evanovich). I love this pair of nutty bounty hunters. Once again, we have Stephanie telling us her story. It's much more personal. Of course, all five (to give Ace Atkins his due, he is the heir to the Spenser novels and doing a bang up job) do a top notch job of all the rest. Which we mustn't forget. Atmosphere, scenery, the five senses. And research, they call it fiction, but a great writer sets their fiction in reality. The tiniest detail can throw a knowledgeable reader off their game. It's an entire world we're creating. I usually get my dialogue first, then go back and fill out the location feel, look, sounds and smells. And, please get your plants right. I was at a winery recently where some out of town tasters were waxing on about the smell of sage in the local wine. Uh oh. Yes we're in a desert here, but not the Great Basin Desert. No sagebrush. The power of suggested misinformation (Desert=Sagebrush) ruled their noses. And, of course, different plant types live at different elevations. Author beware!

Reinterpreting relationships. The new big thing on TV is throuples and three ways. A throuple is three people in a (traditionally couples-two people- in a relationship). Aka polyamory. It's a redefinition, not new, of marriage. Robert Heinlein, in "Stranger in a Strange Land", was my first introduction to the beast. I don't mean it in a bad way, big fan in fact.
Recently, someone coined the term 'throuple', I heard it on "You Me Her" (Audience network) and had to run with it. I saw a teaser for another show, whose name slips my mind, for a threesome. Or talk of one. Talk's cheap. So, in order to define the relationship for the situation that Annie, in my books, has with her men, I had to expand throuple beyond three. Fourple and quadouple (yikes) aren't enough. Quouple? Quiple? In plain English, there's five of them. How about quintouple? Or drop the 'O', for quintuple. All five get along fine, so far. It's fiction...or maybe not. And Annie is loving it! Comments?

Coming down to the wire with my entry in NaNoWriMo: Hell to Pay, which is free , in progress and updated about every other day, on Smashwords.com this month. I have 46,485 of the 50,000 words finished. It looks like; in editing that I will be splitting it into two books, one in each series because my introductory chapter now spans a third of the manuscript. It is firmly based in 1885 Arizona, so a Cha'a Many Horses entry, while the second two-thirds is set in 2617 on Old Earth and it's surrounds. In any case, writing 50,000 words in one month is not a stretch for me, other than this particular November has some extra real life drama which steals away the hours. Nothing bad or sad, in fact a trip around our little planet, which I have seen my fair share of in the distant past. But, this newest adventure comes without parents to do all the shit work of planning and packing and getting jabs (not as painful as all the ones I got at 9 and 23 for me. I didn't even cry this time. Anyhow, it's a big planet and we should all strive to see more than just our own cultural neighborhood. International travel is enlightening, especially if you go on the economy rather than stay where the other tourists stay. Enlightening beyond anything you can imagine. My advice? Leave your safe little world and explore. Like Annie does in the SPirit Animal Series (Okay, blatant pandering, but you can ignore it). Cheers, Barb