I was rounding third on a Grand Slam

I was rounding third on a Grand Slam breakfast and sliding home into a second helping of pancakes I’d requested instead of bacon. Carson eyed the rapidly disappearing stack with what I decided to interpret as awestruck wonder. 

“You’re obviously feeling better.”

“My amazing powers require a lot of sustenance,” I said being bites. “I figure I’d better top off the tank for whatever comes next. Which, by the way, we should probably discuss. You can start with why you turned off your phone instead of calling for a pickup, or getaway car, or agent extraction, or whatever term you people prefer.” 

“‘You people’?”

“Don’t make me say ‘mobsters’ in the middle of a Denny’s.” 

SPIRIT AND DUST comes out TOMORROW!  Yay!!!!

In other news, I will be leaving for England on Wednesday. If you want to follow the pictures and updates from my trip, you should follow my Tumblr, because that’s where I post the more random of my ramblings. And you’re already following on Twitter, right? 

The Spirit and Dust Excerpt Countdown continues: The moment

The Spirit and Dust Excerpt Countdown continues: 

The moment we touched, I felt the weight of the remnants that clung to him. Shreds of lives he’d ruined or taken. Frayed tatters of crimson rage and purple grief and black mourning. They hung from him like the chains on Marley’s Ghost, except Maguire didn’t seem to regret his, or even acknowledge their existence. I felt them, though, like a stone on my chest. 

 

S&D comes out on Tuesday in the US and in June in the UK.  

Speaking of the UK, that’s where I’m going next week (leaving on Wednesday). Blog hijinx will continue, don’t worry. (In fact, expect lots of pictures.) I’m really REALLY looking forward to the trip. 

I’m not doing any official appearances or signings. This is fun and research and also fun. But I will be attending the fabulous Rachel Caine’s talk and signing at the Waterstones in Nottingham on Friday, May 17th. Unless I get lost in a cave or something. 

Today’s Spirit and Dust Excerpt

          Calling open the Veil wasn’t difficult. A whisper from me and it shivered into my view, ready to put things in their proper place. Our world was for the living. The dead belonged…somewhere else. 

         The threshold between here and eternity was only a waver in the air, like a curtain of liquid mercury. But [the ghost] shrank away from it. “What is that?”

          “Whatever’s next,” I told him. That was as much as I knew. I could see the Veil, but not what was beyond it….

          “I don’t want to go.” He swung around, pulling his gun from its holster and pointing it at me. “You can’t make me go.” 

          Probably not, but whatever lay beyond was happy to reach out and pull him in. I could see that, either, but Bruiser could, and his screams raked my bones.

 

SPIRIT AND DUST comes out on Tuesday, May 14th!  Check back tomorrow for more.

My TLA Schedule (for Librarian Stalkers)

Random Viggo Mortensen. Hey, there’s a book in this picture. It’s related.

The TLA Conference is next week in Fort Worth!   For all you Texas Librarians, here’s my schedule. Please come and say hi! I love me some librarians.

TLA Schedule

Wednesday 4pm — Spirit of Texas Program (with Gail Giles, CC Hunter, Cynthia Leitich Smith and Jennifer Ziegler)  Convention Center Room 121B

Thursday 1-2pm — AUTOGRAPHING!  I will be signing books in the Autographing Area, Aisle 2. PLEASE COME SO I LOOK POPULAR!

Friday 3 – 4pm — Signing in the BOOK FESTIVALS OF TEXAS book (#2145). There will be books for purchase and I will be giving away stuff. This is the best place to stop by and say “hi” and find out about book festivals in Texas, too!

Friday 5:30 – 6pm — Texas Teens 4 Libraries (TT4L) Omni Hotel, Ballroom 5  (One of my favorite events, as I get to talk to actual teenagers about actual books. )

Saturday 10am — Program: Paranormally Yours (with Jennifer Lynn Barnes, Margaret Stohl and Cate Tiernan)  Convention Center Room 203 ABC

Writer Haikus

My morning in haiku.

Fresh hot coffee.
Dribbles inevitable
on white tee-shirt.

—

Brilliant idea
this late in manuscript
is not so brilliant.

—

Three dogs scratch at door.
To ignore means poop on floor.
Work paused, either way.

—

I look up one thing
Internet is so helpful
Look! There are LOLcats!

This tee-shirt is real.
You can buy it if you have
More money than sense.

Another fine mess… I mean, Goodnight caper.

First review of Spirit and Dust is out, and I couldn’t be happier!  Especially with this part: 

 

This likable, uber-competent heroine’s adventure combines elements of paranormal romance and fast-paced thriller, while Daisy herself resembles a Southern teen version of supernatural PI Harry Dresden from Jim Butcher’s best-selling adult series. Another smart Goodnight caper.

 

Kirkus Reviews

A ghost-whispering 17-year-old is roped into a cinematic showdown between the FBI and the mob. Clement-Moore introduces another magical teen detective from the Goodnight family, following on Amy’s adventures from Texas Gothic (2011). College freshman Daisy is accustomed to helping out the FBI on cases. Adorable Agent Taylor doesn’t consult with the teen psychic because she’s cute–much as Daisy might wish otherwise–but because her ability to read spirit remnants has helped them catch murderers before. While Daisy interrogates the dead bodyguard of a kidnapped girl, she’s snatched herself, spirited away by the girl’s crime-boss father. Soon, Daisy is on a madcap road trip across the Great Lakes states in the company of a disturbingly attractive young mobster, learning about Egyptology while avoiding erstwhile apocalyptic cultists. A CGI-ready climax pulls together all the metaphysical building blocks laid down in this mystery’s tight worldbuilding (not to mention mummies, ghosts, animated tattoos and a bonus dinosaur). This likable, uber-competent heroine’s adventure combines elements of paranormal romance and fast-paced thriller, while Daisy herself resembles a Southern teen version of supernatural PI Harry Dresden from Jim Butcher’s best-selling adult series. Another smart Goodnight caper. (Paranormal mystery. 13 & up)

Thanks, Kirkus reviews!  

Now for something completely different

I have a new e-book out today for grown ups (or older teens who read grown up books). It’s called Date by Mistake, a romance anthology about blind dates gone horribly wrong. It’s from Entangled Publishing’s Indulgence line, and you can get it right now on Amazon and Barnes and Noble. 

What happens when love is your favorite mistake…

Here’s the opening of my novella, Passionate Persuasion. 

     Eight years ago, Alex Drake broke Kiara Fredericks’ heart. Now here he was, walking into the Regis Pub like he owned it.

     The pub, not her heart.

     Though there was that, too. She hadn’t realized he still had a lien on even a small bit of cardiac real estate until she saw him across the crowded bar and felt the peculiar, particular pinch and twist under her left collarbone, the specter of young love rattling the chains of her heart.

     This was not a promising start to the evening. For a lot of reasons, not least of which was the fact that Kiara was there to meet someone else.

It’s no secret I love a well-written steamy romance.  I feel like love stories between well-matched couples can be fun and satisfying and even, yes, feminist. So this novella was a lot of fun to write, especially since it meant working with some of my favorite authors: Candace Havens and Shannon Leigh, Gwen Hayes and Jill Monroe. 

What I learned was that writing contemporary romance—especially a story that has to contained to 100 pages—was harder than I thought. You have to keep things interested just with the characters. You can’t have ghosts or demons or ninjas popping up if things get boring. On the other hand, the character banter and relationship stories are one of my favorite things to write. So if you’ve wondered what an RCM book would be like if I was free to indulge in all romantic banter all the time, plus get a little hotter… This novella is for you! 

And, it’s only $2.99!  For four novellas, that’s less than a dollar a story!

Here’s the disclaimer: This is not a teen book. My story is pretty tame. I’d call it PG-14 at the most. (If you want specifics, ask.) But the others are quite racy. (*fans self*)  I just want to give y’all the heads up on that. 

Truth vs Fiction

Recently, for reasons that I will let you wonder about, I have begun a vain attempt to wedge a small gap between Rosemary Clement-Moore the (amazing! talented!) author of (award-winning!) books and what let’s call, for purposes of this post, “Private Life Rose.”

Here’s the first problem with that process. There IS no part of me that is not a writer. I wrote stories before I ever dreamed anyone but my friends would read them, without an inkling how you became an author AS A JOB. Heck, even my Barbie dolls were always going on space-faring, dragon-slaying, Evil Empire Defeating adventures. (The Barbie Mobile Home, with just a little paint and some decals, made a great Millennium Falcon.)

Those of you who do any kind of art–heck, those of you who dance, or play sports, or weave baskets underwater know what I mean.  What you love to do is intrinsic to who you are. Private Life Rose is still a storyteller and nothing short of a brain transplant would change that. 

However, there’s a difference between the writer/artist and RCM the Published Author who doesn’t really want people to know that all her efforts to house train her latest dog have met with utter failure. (Oops. Now you know.)

So there’s that. I had an online social life long before I had to think about things like a professional image or an author “brand.”  Pretty much, what you see is what you get with me. The only difference is that online, I have the benefit of a delete key which saves me from posting things that I have a tendency to blurt out when I’m in public.  So it’s not that I’m a *different* person online. But I am slightly more edited.

That doesn’t mean I’m fake, just that I’m aware if I say something like “I have to pee like a racehorse” in person, it’s not going to be preserved forever on the Internet. Though that’s not really true anymore, because anyone can Tweet: Ha! @rclementmoore just said she has to pee like a racehorse!

Which is the other thing. In the WiFi world we live in, we–all of us, not just people with a professional public image–are not entirely in control of our online content. If I’m at an event, anyone can take my picture. And it’s a sure bet, the one where I’m making a face like this… 

…will be the one that ends up tagged on Facebook. (There was this time I was at a party at a convention and I was telling a story. Someone snapped a pic. Not a big deal, except that (a) I was standing in front of All The Liquor Bottles In Texas and (b) I was making a weird face so that I look like I had drunk All the Liquor in Texas.

Which I hadn’t.

Not that night, anyway. 

I don’t care that you guys know I drink. But I would like you to think I look adorable when I do. 

Though I actually like this one, where Sarah Rees Brennan is looking at me like I’m crazy and she can’t move far enough away without causing an inter-author incident.

One of us is saying something incredibly witty and droll here. I swear.

Which if you’ve ever talked to Sarah Rees Brennan, or seen one of her dramatic book reenactments, is kind of ironic, her looking at anyone this way.  (I adore Sarah, and UNSPOKEN is one of my favorite books of 2012.) 

So… Where was I?  Oh yeah. Online vs. Offline. 

It’s not so much that I care to keep my Offline Life a secret from readers. What you see is what you get with me. You know my mom lives with me (or me with her, depending on who you ask). That my dog is a revenge pee-er. That I’ve rented my upstairs apartment to Sister Maria Von Trapp. (Minus the singing.) 

That I was a nerd long before it was cool, back when I had to keep it a secret or get beat up after school. 

It’s not even that I worry about someone from college showing up on my blog and posting in the comments: Hey! Rosie*! Remember that time you drank All The Liquor In Texas and we had to carry you home on your shield? 

It’s far more likely that someone will show up and say: Hey! Remember when you wrote all that Mary Sue Star Wars fan fiction in junior high?  Or I’ll get a Tweet from my mother that says: Hey, little missy! Remember to pick up toilet paper while you’re at #Target! 

That last one will never happen. My mother doesn’t know how to use hashtags. 

 

 

*If you ever call me Rosie, in person or online, I will never speak to you again.

Here’s to a Most Excellent New Year

Last year I…

Went on a Caribbean cruise. (And still cannot spell caribbean without spellcheck.) 

Went to the movies and really enjoyed some of them. A lot. 

Attended Ye Olde Renaissance Faire. 

Mowed my own lawn for the first time ever. 

Learned how to make a playlist for Spirt and Dust. 

Shared, maybe too much, about my writing “process.“ 

Developed a Mysterious Malady. 

Discovered Pinterest and made a board for Spirit and Dust.

Got to sign many copies of the NEW PAPERBACK edition of Texas Gothic.

Saw my first two novels re-released in a (two! two! two-in-one!) new compilation edition titled BRIMSTONE. (Buy your copy wherever awesome books are sold.) 

Went to Canada! And NYC! And Philadelphia!

And, OH YEAH, sold TWO MORE BOOKS to Delacorte!

 

THIS year, I am going to…

Do all the things I swore I was going to do better last year but didn’t. (Like blogging and exercise and stuff.) 

Write a couple of amazing cool books that I will only be able to hint about because I’m so superstitious, but they are going to be amazing (and cool). 

Start a mailing list! No, really!  I’m going to conquer this promotion thing. 

Go see Star Trek: Into the Darkness at the midnight movie. 

Celebrate the release of SPIRIT AND DUST in May!

Happy New Year, everyone. May your year be free from want, strife, and heartache. And above all, as Mr. Lincoln says in the movie… 

Where there is life, there is hope.

Words are all I have to combat a tragedy.  So what do I do when an event leaves me speechless?

Well, I borrow from someone else.

Where there is life, there is hope, to quote Tolkien.

We, as a nation, should mourn the loss of life and the violence in a place that should be as safe and, in it’s own way, sacred as any church or temple. A school should be a sanctuary. The families of those killed in Newton, Connecticut and entire community are woeful, and when I pray for their comfort and healing, I know that it will be a long painful progress.

But as I was watching the news and reading Twitter yesterday, I eventually had to shut it all down, because the negative energy was becoming a like a two-ton stone on my heart. What was the point of living? This country is a cesspit. Shootings are getting more violent, frequent and horrible. The media seemed whipped into a frenzy of horror and despair.

But despair is different than mourning.  Despair makes you lay down under the weight of your troubles. Despair makes you value live less, not more. Despair tears down.  Despair is the feeling that life is not worth living.

When we despair, we don’t look for solutions, we look for outs.  We wail and say “If only!”  When we despair, we deny there is still good in the world.

Despair is evil’s victory.

A terrible, awful, tragic thing has happened. Tragic things have happened before, and they will happen again.

I am not being dismissive of the depth of this and other recent tragedies. Certainly we’re in a cycle of anger and hatred and intolerance. Look at our recent elections, where platforms are formed less on the issues and more on “us” vs. “them.” And because of the 24/7 media and social media, this negativity, hatred, and despair escalate at a logarithmic scale.

In the face of tragedy, we need to reject despair and focus on hope and healing.

• Turn down the volume of the media. Spend some time in prayer, meditation, reading, or whatever centers you and quiets the frenzied noise of doom and gloom and hate-speak.
• Write to your congressperson. Like voting, it seems a small, tiny thing, but these are the things that add up.
• Spread hope.  The next time some horrible story comes across you social media stream, don’t repost it saying “I can’t believe how terrible this is!” Repost stories of ordinary people doing good things, of random acts of kindness, or ideas of how you and your friends can help keep whatever terrible thing from happening again.
• Take the high road. Resist the urge to mock, snark or make fun of someone who is different than you. If you have an argument, and it is an appropriate forum for it, post it tactfully with facts to back it up.
• Stand up against bad guys. Don’t let little evils go unchallenged, or they become big ones.
• Volunteer. Do something for someone other than yourself. Focus on a community larger than yourself. Focus on the future.
• Practice being kind. You never know what small act of kindness or love will have a large effect.

I’m not saying that if someone was kind to the shooter in Connecticut (or the one in Denver earlier this year, or at Virginia Tech in 2007) then his rampage wouldn’t have happened. Maybe, when the whole story comes out, we’ll see the path clearly in retrospect. But chances are we won’t.

Hope is not about wishing we could change the past. It’s about bettering the future.

Don’t think because you are young, or just one person, or a starving student with no money to throw around that you can’t make great changes in the world. The little things we do affect our whole environment. Yes, we need concrete changes in the world. We need peace, and better regulation of firearms and better access to mental health care.

But we also need a culture of hope and love and compassion so that we can come together to heal, help, and change the equation.

Little pebbles make far-reaching ripples.  And great things have small beginnings.

Don’t just hold onto hope in the face of tragedy. Spread it around you. Like love, hope increases when you pass it along.

My hope, and prayer, for you my friends and readers, is that you and your families are safe and well, and that you will feel loved and protected through this season.