Have you been sleeping well?

You have? Well, I can fix that.

If you've been waiting to buy The Taking or Tangled, your patience has paid off. Right now both Tales of Malstria books are on sale for only 99 cents in the US and 0.99 at Amazon UK.

Not sure whether to give them a try? Here's what readers are saying:

What's Sambocade, anyway?

Since readers have asked me about food, clothing, and places mentioned in my books, I thought it would be fun to share sources of inspiration and research from time to time. Today, I'm starting with food.

I come from a family of big-eaters. If we had a family crest, it would show a double-dip ice cream cone with the motto, "There's Always Room For Ice Cream," emblazoned just beneath it. Food wasn't simply nourishment, it was a central part of our family culture. So, ever since childhood, I've been interested in cooking and recipes.

Interested does not equal skilled.

As a girl, I began collecting cookbooks. Authentic Mexican food, Christmas cookies from around the world--anything involving food that represented other cultures or eras. I would read through the recipes, alchemical formulas promising culinary gold. If a cookbook had pictures, I'd thumb through them again and again, dreaming.

I cooked nothing. Nada. Nichts.

Well, I grew up. I left home. I cooked. Culinary gold, it was not (nor is it now, after years of practice).  But, my fascination for the alchemy remains. One of my favorite experiments is trying the foods my characters are eating.

While writing Tangled I went through a baking phase. In the months between finishing grad school and finding a full time job, I baked (and ate) a different cheesecake every week. I was baking so much, I even wrote my baking self a cameo appearance in the book. I got pretty good at baking cheesecakes. Trying my hand at sambocade (an elderflower cheesecake) seemed only natural.

from British Library, Lansdowne 451,  f. 6 

I used the modern sambocade  recipe from A Boke of Gode Cookery. I bought rosewater and elderflowers just to make it. Having no food processor, I blended the ingredients manually. (That's more medieval anyway, right?) I popped it in the oven, baked it, checked it, baked it some more. What I eventually pulled out of the oven was black around the edges and still jiggly in the middle. I'm no fan of jiggly food, but for the sake of research, I persevered.

I ate it. All of it. I eat my mistakes with true commitment. I eat my mistakes alone--you can only ask so much of your friends.

It's been a decade almost. I remember mouthfuls of char and bland bites of crusty not-quite-cheese over cottage cheese curdles. By week's end, I faced the sambocade with dread.

Alas, I took no photos. Just as well, I suppose. If you'd seen my version, you'd never have wanted to try sambocade. If you're curious what delicious sambocade would look like, check out this one from Fromage Homage. Almost makes me want to try again.

Happy New Year

It's the last day of 2014, and tomorrow I'm kicking off the new year with something I never imagined doing--a radio broadcast. My short story "The Screenhouse" is one of the works featured on the New Year's Day episode of The Platte River Sampler. Listen live on http://www.kzum.org at 6pm central if you want to catch my reading and interview.

If you've missed the previous episodes, you really are missing out. I just got caught up this morning, listening to the podcast from Christmas. Poetry, plays, fiction, and essays in styles as diverse as their creators showcase Nebraska's talent. I'm thrilled to be included among them.

Last summer the fortune cookie in my Chinese take-out promised, "Your fondest dream will come true within this year." I suppose it has. What dreams will the new year bring? 

Happy New Year to you. And may we all find something worth seeking in the months to come.

UPDATE. Here's the podcast in case you missed the live episode:

Platte River Sampler #5: The Screenhouse by Traci Robison; Poetry of Steve Gains; Poems of L. Adkins; Story of a Depression era shooting; Poems of Jules Rolf

Listen to the end to hear my friend Jules' nature-inspired poems. Her "Following the Ground Ivy" is one of my favorites.

December flurry

Ah, December--the busiest time of my year coincides with onset of hibernation urges. All I want is a nap and a cookie (double chocolate, please), but there is, indeed, no rest for the wicked. Here's a quick rundown on what's new.

Last week KZUM broadcast the debut episode of "The Platte River Sampler," featuring creative works penned and performed by Nebraskans. Listen live online Thursdays from 6-7 pm central. If you miss an episode and want to catch up, here's the podcast listing.

Round 23 of SPARK collaborations is going up. Contributors have through Friday to post their work, so be sure to check back for new additions.

As for myself, I have been eating too much, exercising too little, and chipping away at two works in progress. (Full disclosure: I've also been watching a few episodes of American Horror Story: Coven on Netflix. Gotta have some guilty pleasures, don't I?)

All in all, I've been feeling a little like this cat:

"Kittens and cats: a book of tales" (1911)

How many people and bandages do you suppose were involved in getting that cat in a fur coat? My guess is half a dozen of each.

SPARK inspires

dulce et decorum est
from SPARK collaboration with Caroline Davies

What is SPARK?

A participatory, inclusive creativity event….
that’s SPARK, and we want you to join us!

Open to writers, musicians, and visual artists of all kinds, SPARK takes place four times each year.

During each 10-day project round, participants create a new piece of work using someone else’s art, writing, or music as inspiration. All resulting work is then displayed online, alongside the piece that inspired it.

I've joined two rounds of SPARK--once, as a writer and the second time, as an artist. Next week I'm jumping in for a third round (again as an artist). Each time I've taken part, I experience the same excitement--hoping I can rise to the inspiration piece's challenge and knowing I have no other choice.

The day-to-day work of writing is, more often than not, a solitary act. Collaborating in SPARK, I become part of a creative conversation, inspired by another's ideas.

The effect of inspiration lasts long after the project is complete. And, each time I have come away with new knowledge. Last November's pairing with poet Caroline Davies introduced me to the poetry of Wilfred Owen and to Caroline's own vivid poems. I'm forever chipping away at my irrational fear of poetry (let's call it poemaphobia). Finding poets whose work I connect with helps me grow as a reader and a writer. I have SPARK to thank for that.

If you're a writer or artist, come join me in the next round. Registration is open until November 22. There's still time!

And, whether you choose to participate or not, pop on over and take a look at the creative collaborations from previous SPARK rounds.

Enjoy!

Into the fray

It's snowing in Nebraska, but I'm off visiting Etruscan places--in my imagination, anyway. A perk of fiction writing: daydreaming is part of the job.

Right now I'm writing Tales of Malstria, Book 4. It's set in tumultuous 3rd and 4th century BCE, when many Etruscan cities were facing off against Rome's expanding power. Here's a sneak peak excerpt from the work in progress:

My troops followed the river south and east along the base of the hills. Bog reeds, willows, and birch clogged the marshland on the riverbank, but farther out the valley opened in broken oak groves and pastureland. An hour's march in bough-strained moonlight brought us within sight of our enemy's camp. 

We formed up. The light infantry--men with swords and throwing spears--took the far right flank near the river and amongst the dense-growing trees. My own guard, Aplu's chosen, lined up four rows deep, and on our left the remaining hoplites filled the valley to the hill's base, forming a wall of spear-wielding men. Silent, we waited only moments before our archers rained fire on their tents. 

The enemy scrambled, men half-dressed grabbing swords and shields; trumpets blaring and signaling formations. A ragged band, they might have been twice our number but had less than half our skill. Men charged uphill in imperfect lines as their cavalry mounted.

"Forward!" I shouted, and our trumpeter blew the call.

We ran into Vetluna's half-formed lines, and as my spear hit the shield opposite me, I lost sight of the larger battle. Tents burned, making one dark silhouette of the phalanx facing us. Somewhere beyond them, horses screamed and men bellowed like beasts.

I'm using NaNoWriMo as encouragement to keep the rough draft rolling. So excited to see this story unfolding. (I always encounter surprises as I write. Comes from using a broad outline, I suppose.) Now back to work for me!

Tapestry tales

The Unicorn is Killed and Brought to the Castle (from the Unicorn Tapestries, Met Museum)

Tapestries tell stories. Beyond the primary image, small details add layers of meaning. Violets might symbolize saints. Wild strawberries indicate desire. A rabbit, fertility.

While writing The Taking, I was studying medieval iconography. I became so caught up in the symbols I was learning about that I created an entire series of tapestries for Amarys' walls--each one filled with plants, animals, and figures that revealed hidden aspects of the novel. In the course of edits, most of the tapestries were cut out, but symbols inspired by medieval art appear throughout the text.

To explore these inspiring images, take a look at The Lady and the Unicorn and The Unicorn Tapestries at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. The Met's site is one of my favorites. It includes clickable detail views, providing information on the symbolic meaning and practical function of each item.