#AmReading

Ally is reading

This week’s reading. I’ve got a bit behind, but today I have Conspiracy Theory by Elle Keaton, Echoes of the Storm by Char Newcomb and Work for It by Talia Hibbert!

Conspiracy Theory by Elle Keaton
Cover. Conspiracy Theory by Elle Keaton.

This is the first in a complete trilogy following the same couple in all the books and I like this first one best, because I am a sucker for UST and there is soooo much of it. I am also a sucker for police stories, so it hit all my hot buttons.

It’s a contemporary, set on the islands off the west coast of the USA, which seems a bit wild-westy to my English self, and which I loved. Matt and Niall are both sympathetic characters and I found the mystery really engaging. So a big yay from me all round.

Echoes of the Storm by Charlene Newcomb
Cover: Echoes of the Storm by Charlene Newcomb

This has complicated relationships and spaceships. I put it forward for your consideration on that basis!

Jack’s lover has betrayed the resistance and he’s now on the run across space and has become an unlikely rallying point for survivors to begin the fight to win their planet back. The slow-burn romance with the space-pirate captain is perfect and there are battles and spies and ace rep. It’s perfect and you should read it!

Work For It by Talia Hibbert
Cover: Work For It, Talia Hibbert

I really, really liked this. There’s so much angst. Soooo much. And it’s all from a really deep painful place inside each man that hits where it hurts. Olu suffers from depression and that is painted very realistically, with no magic-lovespell curing it. Griff is stuck in his small village and doesn’t think he’s worth anyone’s time. It’s slow-burn, well paced and heart-wrenching and the happy ever after is perfect. Also it’s set on a farm, which is my catnip.

And that’s it for this time!

Deleted Scene: Fenn in the Outlands

Cover of The Hunted and the Hind

As you may have noticed, I’ve been round and about on the interweb with some deleted scenes from The Hunted and the Hind. I wrote a lot of extra words set in Fenn’s Outlands, before I found that I was going down a road I didn’t really want to tread and writing a fantasy novel rather than a whatever-it-actually-is.

It was really hard to take these bits out, but I felt that it made the story waaaaay too ‘bitty’. There was already a lot going on and lots of loose ends to tie up. To introduce a major new setting at this point, with all the world-building that would entail was too much, if I’m quite honest. Here’s one of the bits that didn’t make the final cut!

Fenn Arrives Home

Fenn, Hunter of the Frem. Not an elf.

Fenn felt the push-twist that was the shimmer opening and stepped forward. They shoved the carnas in front of them firmly through the gate with a sharp motion and stepped after it, feeling a huge weight lift from their shoulders as they did so. They had done as the Ternant’s asked and the council should now release Fenn from this duty and Keren along with them.
The jangling clatter of light and sound, kias manifest that they recollected from their outward trip to Delf gradually began to subside.
They stood inside the circle, surrounded by the Ternants. Guards were already ushering the carnas away down a side tunnel.
“Where are the eggs?” Malach asked, holding the necklace of gable-stones that had been taken from the carnas. Fenn sighed. Always, Malach.
“I told you, Malach, when we spoke through the shimmer. There was only one egg. And it was broken in a struggle with a human.”
Malach nodded and banged their staff, the staff of the leader of the Ternants, on the floor of chamber. “Very well. I am disappointed, Fenn of the Hunters. We set you a task and you have not completed it.”
Fenn raised their voice. “I completed it to the best of my ability, Malach. I brought you back the carnas. Now release my sibling.”
Malach shook their head. “No. You did not complete the task we set you. Under the terms of our agreement, Keren will not be returned to you. They will be executed. You knew this would happen if you did not carry out the task, Fenn.”
Fenn lunged for them across the sand, but two of the Ternant’s guards grabbed their arms and pulled them back. “No, Fenn of the Hunters,” one said, lowly, in to their ear. Do not do this. Do not.” Fenn subsided as Malach turned away. The guard was right. There were too many people. And what good would it do Keren? They stood down and the guards cautiously released them.
“I did what you asked, Malach,” Fenn called after their half-turned back, instead. “I brought back the carnas. The egg, I could not bring, through no fault of my own. You are not treating me, or my kindred justly in this!” They felt the guard who had spoken wince.
Malach stopped their turn away and moved to face Fenn again. “Do not question the Ternants, Fenn of the Hunters. Or worse things will befall you than the keeping of an agreement. Your sibling will be executed as I told you would happen if you did not bring back both the eggs and the carnas. The word of the Ternants is unbreakable.”
Over their shoulder, Fenn could see that some of the other faces of council members looked sickened. They appealed to them. “Can you not see how wrong this is?” they said. “Keren is a child. This is not the way the council should work, this is not the way the Outlands should police the shimmer. We are not cruel. We are just. This is not just!”
Malach simply shook their head and continued to turn. The crowd of Ternants and workers who had sung kias to open the shimmer for Fenn’s return parted to allow them exit and then turned as one, to follow.
Fenn dropped to their knees and watched them retreat. After a moment, when the last twitch of over-robe had disappeared in to the tunnel, the guard who had spoken before put a hand under their shoulder and pulled. “On your feet, young Fenn. You won’t do any good down there.”
Fenn turned to look at them. Neither they nor their companion were familiar. “What do you mean?” they said. “I need to help Keren. I need to either get Malach to release them, or I need to get them out. Can you help?”
The guard shook their head. “No. I am sworn to serve the Ternants in this. But you are not, and there are others. Seek your parent and your kindred, Fenn of the Hunters. Ana is waiting for you.” The other guard nodded at him in a not unfriendly fashion and the one speaking gave Fenn a gentle push toward the door. “Get moving, Fenn. There’s not a great deal of time.”
Fenn stared hard at both of them for a moment and then did as they were told.

Ana, Fenn's parent. Starting a revolution.

It wasn’t far to Ana’s quarters. They and Cora, Fenn’s other parent, had shared a set of family rooms quite high in the caves for their use when they were here in the Underhalls. Fenn and all three of their older siblings had grown up there until they had reached maturity and moved out in to the dormitories for the unattached. When Cora died two years ago, Ana had continued to live there with Keren, a constant stream of cheerful visitors sitting on comfortable couches or on the soft, deep rugs, discussing books and travel and kias and the ideas they had about everything under the sun.
Ana had clearly been pacing when Fenn chapped on the door and immediately entered.
“Fenn!” they wrapped their arms around them and they responded in kind. “I felt the working, but I couldn’t follow closely enough to know the result. Are you well?” They pushed Fenn back and looked at their face, framing it with their familiar, long-fingered hands. “You are tired? And…” they scowled, reading Fenn’s tumultuous thoughts. “And Malach refused to free Keren.” Their voice dripped vitriol. “The bastard. I knew they’d pull something like this.” Their hands dropped to Fenn’s shoulders, steadying. “Fenn, what of the one who came through behind you? There were two of you. Where is your companion?”
Fenn looked at them. “What?”
“Your companion. There were two come through. I felt them. Where is the person who accompanied you?”

Detective Sergean Will Grant. A magician.

Will Grant. It had to be Will Grant. They were closest to the shimmer when it opened and had been helping Fenn herd the carnas through. Fenn had been focused on keeping it under control and had trusted the team of humans to help open the shimmer and keep onlookers away.
“They were not with me when the gateway closed. We must have been split up in the shimmer itself.” Fenn looked up at Ana as they sank in to a chair and fought exhaustion, anger and the slight nausea left from coming through the shimmer. They shut their eyes briefly. They were so tired. “Where is Keren, Ana? Can we get them out? It will have to be quickly.”
Ana shook their head. “Perhaps. Things have happened whilst you were away.”
“How long was it?” Fenn asked. Time sometimes got twisted when you traveled through the shimmer. Some people could control it and use it to move back and forth in the when as well as between the worlds. Fenn couldn’t and had relied upon the council to pull them through in the right time. Now though…now they didn’t trust anything the Council of Ternants did.
“The third time of trying, that they arranged before you left. So three months.”
Fenn nodded. That was good. It had been their first trip through the shimmer and they had been frightened of all sorts of things. Not least Malach’s word.
“Where would Will Grant have gone? What happened, Ana?”
“I think the gate was shutting behind you as they entered. They could be anywhere. Anywhen, even.”
Fenn made a noise of distress. “They helped me find the carnas and looked after me when the Ternants would not let me through. I must search for them.”
Ana shook their head. “There is very little to be done without a circle to try to trace their kias from the closed gate. That is not a priority. I need to speak to Malach, to see if I can get them to release Keren.” They knelt down between Fenn’s feet and took their hands between their own. “Fenn, child. What did Malach say? What happened in Delft?”
Fenn told them. “The carnas was killing humans. The humans were searching for it. There are a few who use kias…Will Grant is one. We found the egg…the carnas only laid the one. I had it safe and tried to come through with it at the second meeting-time that the Ternants gave me. But Malach would not let me through without the carnas as well. They said one egg wasn’t enough.”
Fenn bent forward and put their forehead on Ana’s shoulder, allowing them to slip their arms around Fenn’s back. It was a relief to have someone else take some weight, just for a moment. Ana’s hands moved gently up and down Fenn’s back, soothing as if Fenn was still a child.
Fenn continued. “And then, Will Grant found me. They broke the egg. I had not told any of them about Keren. When I did…Will Grant was sorry. They took me to their family home and cared for me. I was…” they paused. “I was distraught.”
Ana made a comforting noise. They smelled of home.
“And then…we went back to the city and the other humans had managed to find the carnas. So…I went. And we found it and I managed to push it through.” They drew a breath. “Why do they want it so badly, Ana?”
Ana made a noise in their throat. “Not for anything good. Malach has been consolidating their power for years. The carnas…the carnas should never have been used like this. We should never have consented, when they first came up with the idea of using them to track kias and help police the border. It has been nothing but trouble. Malach uses them like a blunt weapon, aiming them and letting them go. The result is never good, for the hunted for the carnas themselves. It is cruel.”
They released Fenn from their embrace and pushed them a little apart, hands on Fenn’s shoulders, staring urgently in to Fenn’s face. “We can fix this, Fenn. Once and for all. And I need you to do as I ask, now. And not ask me questions. Can you do that? There’s very little time.”
Fenn nodded. “Will you get Keren out?” they asked. “Can you get them?”
Ana shook their head. “I don’t know. I am not even sure Malach has kept them alive this long. Keren is a threat to them. Yes, Malach can use them as leverage, to maneuverer you and I and your other siblings. But on the other hand…Malach must know that using children in these games of theirs is opening more and more eyes to their true nature. If Keren is already dead, then there is no risk of Malach’s own people freeing them.” Her hands tightened on Fenn’s shoulders. “You should think of Keren as already dead, Fenn.” Their eyes filled with tears. “Think of them as already gone and plan your actions accordingly.”
Fenn swallowed. “Namma…,” they said, slipping in to childish language. They had called both their parents by their given names since they left home. They put their hands on Ana’s shoulders, in turn. “Namma…I will find Keren.”
Ana shook their head. “No. Leave Keren to me. You search for the human. And wait. Wait. Trust no-one who is not recommended to you by me or your siblings. Do you understand?”
Fenn nodded. “Very well.” They dropped their hands from Ana’s shoulders and they both pushed to their feet. “Very well.” Fenn drew Ana in to their arms again. “Ana. I am so pleased to be home.”
Ana wrapped her arms back around him. “I am so pleased you are home, too, Fenn. Your other siblings are well. We will make this right, I promise. It may be too late for Keren and I ache for that. I am so angry. It’s time to move against Malach, and we are not alone in being poised to make that happen.” They pushed Fenn an arms length away again. “Now, go. Go back to your quarters. Assume Keren is gone. Grieve them. Rage against Malach. And wait.”

Fenn did as they were asked. Ana was no longer on the Council of Ternants, but the Hunters still had supporters there. Ana had stepped down when Cora died, saying they had both done their duty to the council. Malach had stepped up. And here they all were.

Nine Ladies Dancing

Bleak Midwinter Quiltbag Funfest!

I should have done this yesterday for the Nine Ladies Dancing day of The Bleak Midwinter Quiltbag Funfest over at Quiltbag Historicals, but as usual I’m a day late, if not a dollar short. Jones, who is not really a lady, trying to wriggle out of dancing at Lady’s Nailsbourne’s ball, near the beginning of The Flowers of Time.

Do bob on over to the facebook group if you have a moment and like queer historical fiction. Different writers are posting snippets of their work for all the twelve days, and there’s an eighteen-book giveaway draw ending on the 6th of January.

Lady Nailsbourne’s Ball

The ballroom was sweltering. Jones went to push her hair off her face and then remembered and stopped. Her feet hurt in the ridiculous tiny shoes and the corset was pinching her. Her long gloves were making her elbows itch.

The Flowers of Time

Although that might have been the conversation.

She gritted her teeth and nodded once again to the young man who was attempting to engage her interest with a tale of his morning’s fox hunt. “How fascinating!” she attempted to simper. Her simpering skills clearly needed work, because he flinched.

Luckily at that point, the music stopped. They bowed to each other with ill-disguised relief and then Jones remembered she was supposed to curtsy. Too late now. He held out an arm and she took it delicately in order to be escorted back to her chaperon.

She disguised a snort.

Fat lot of good Aunt Caroline would do to protect Jones’ virtue.

Despite herself though, she smiled at the older woman as she rejoined her small group of older ladies. Her escort, Mr Danvers, handed her off with a mutter about going to get her some punch.

She hated punch.

Aunt Caroline gave her a nervous smile. “Frances, my dear! You looked so graceful. Your partner was clearly extremely taken with you!”

Jones raised an eyebrow at her. Her aunt patted her arm in subtle admonishment and hissed. “Stop that! Nice young ladies do not raise their eyebrows! Especially one eyebrow at a time!” before replastering the smile on to her face.

This wasn’t working. She’d known it wouldn’t work and she’d told them it wouldn’t work. But she’d promised Pater that she’d try and she always kept her promises.

Danvers returned with the punch and presented it to her as if he had pulled a rabbit out of a hat and expected applause. She thanked him politely and he retreated, clearly as relieved as she that his obligation to her had been discharged.

“Aunt, I need some fresh air, I think. May I go out to the gardens? Or to the terrace?” The ballroom had been hot with the heat of hundreds of wax candles in the chandeliers when their party had arrived and as the space had filled and the dancing started, the temperature and the odour had risen and risen.

“My dear girl, of course you may. Do you wish for company?” Her ringlets trembled a little as she raised her lorgnettes and peered through them inquisitively. Aunt Caroline was positively cheering for Jones to be importuned into a compromising position by a likely young gentleman and so to have her married off before the season ended.

It was the point of the whole exercise.

“I’ll be fine, Aunt. Only for a few minutes.”

“I believe the terrace is that way.” Aunt Caroline pointed with her glasses and Jones began to make her way through the crush to the large open doors, attempting not to slop her punch onto her gloves. People were sorting out partners for the next dance and she avoided making eye contact with anyone as she moved forward through the jostling crowd. The musicians kept the music going…a piece by Bach, she thought. The music was actually outstanding, a small positive in what was an exceedingly trying evening.

It was a blessed relief to step into the cooler air of the terrace. There were liveried footmen standing on either side of each of the tall French windows that let on to the terrace. They didn’t return her small smile. She wasn’t comfortable here. Ignoring the servants might be the done thing in polite society, but it went against all her instincts.

She smoothed the fine silk of her dress down her middle in a nervous gesture she couldn’t quite suppress and stepped past them out in to the cool of the night. It wasn’t actually all that dark…there were lanterns at strategic intervals along the retaining wall that threw pools of soft light that didn’t quite meet between the sconces. Lady Nailsbourne had had her gardeners place potted trees and bushes all along the expanse. It was lovely. A perfect place for a romantic liaison, should she be seeking one.

Which she was not.

Buy The Flowers of Time

The Flowers of Time. A non-binary explorer. A determined lady botanist. Mystery, monsters and romance in the 1780s Himalayas.

Interview: Kellie Doherty

Today we well welcome Kellie Doherty, Alaska-based author of Curling Vines & Crimson Trades. Welcome to the blog, Kellie! What made you decide to rock up today?

Kellie Doherty, with wonderful orange and red hair!

Thank you for having me for this interview! Today, I’m celebrating my new release, adult fantasy Curling Vines & Crimson Trades. The novel centers on a rare goods trader named Orenda. Her wife gets kidnapped and Orenda has to do these nearly impossible tasks and trades just to get her wife back. Then the unthinkable happens, her best friend Jax tries to kill her. She has a task list too and her final one is to kill Orenda. In a race against the coming dawns and battling at every turn, Orenda has to try to save them all before the sun rises on her wife’s final day. Curling Vines came out on November 30, 2020, from Desert Palm Press, and I’ve been shouting about the new release pretty hard since then. However, I really love interviews, so I’m also here for fun!

What started you writing?

Fanfiction! I loved watching Digimon and Pokemon when I was younger and I wanted to be in their worlds longer, to have more adventures with the characters I loved so much. I turned to writing fanfiction to fulfil that need, and it really sparked my writing career. Fanfiction holds such a dear place in my heart that I still write it to this day! It’s fluffy and fun. Something I can dip into when I need a break from my original stories for a little while. After I felt comfortable in the already created worlds of others and crafting original characters to play in those worlds, I branched into original fiction and created worlds all my own. That was a thrilling transition. Do you know how equally time-consuming and awesome worldbuilding can be? It’s intense! I also started writing stories because I didn’t see many queer female characters in science fiction and fantasy so I wanted to add my own positive representation of my LGBTQIA community into the genres I adored. That’s why all of my main characters are queer ladies!

What’s your writing space like?

I write at home curled up on the couch with a cup of tea and my cats purring beside me. Sometimes they push my computer out of the way so they can sit on my lap and snooze while I awkwardly hold my computer against my knees to write. I let them, of course, because I’m a pushover when my cats are involved. Technically I can write almost anywhere—airports, coffee shops, libraries—but I’m most comfortable at home. I also scribble notes on characters, plotpoints, and worldbuilding during breaks at work and in the middle of the night. (Though in the middle of the night my handwriting is nearly unintelligible.)

What do you like to read in your non-writing time?

Science fiction and fantasy! I am a huge geek for dragons and magic, spaceships and tech. The escape it gives me is honestly priceless. I like high adventure stories with big (and small) stakes, but I also enjoy character-driven stories as well. It just depends on my mood at the time. 

What are the three books you’d take to a desert island? Why would you choose them?

Mm, my first pick would be Priory of the Orange Tree by Samantha Shannon since it’s such an epic story with so many varied characters and points of view. It’s also a thick book, which means it would take me a while to read if I got stranded there. Second I’d bring Becky Chambers’ novella To Be Taught, if Fortunate because her prose is beautiful and her characters try to see the good in each situation they’re put in, even when—and especially when—it gets tough. I feel like that kind of story would be super helpful in a desert situation. And finally, I’d probably bring a tropical island food book of some sort so I’d know what’s edible! Knowing me I’d probably snack on a poisonous plant…

Writing is an intrinsically solo occupation. Do you belong to any groups or associations, either online or in the ‘real’ world? How does that work for you?

I belong to a local writing organization called the Alaska Writers Guild, and I really appreciate the smaller events they host throughout the year as well as the larger annual writing conference. As you know COVID-19 made the in-person events grind to a halt, but the Alaska Writers Guild swung to virtual pretty smoothly. I also have a weekly writing group that meets over Skype! It’s lovely to have a two-hour chunk of time where we can critique our work together, and I honestly believe we’ve all become better writers because of it.

What do you like to do when you’re not writing?

Oh boy, I lead a rather busy life outside of my writing career. I have my own freelance editing business—Edit. Revise. Perfect.—that keeps my editing eye sharp! I have a lot of different clients and some ongoing contract work too, with both fiction and nonfiction work. I feel really fortunate to have one foot in the business side of publishing like that, even while I have a full time job in a different field. I have two fabulous black cats—Raven and Cinder—who like to dash around at midnight, pounce on hair ties, and curl up on me while I’m writing. As for exercising, I do get at least 7,000 steps per day and I do Zumba every now and then, but I miss swimming. I used to do water aerobics, pre-COVID, and it was just so much fun! Hopefully once the virus settle down a bit, I’ll be able to get back into the water again. Hmmm, what else. Well, I probably watch too much YouTube—Critical Role is an obsession of mine—and I play video games like Minecraft and Zelda. I’ve also been playing the same Dungeons & Dragons campaign with a group of friends for nearly four years, which is pretty fabulous.

Tell me a little bit about your most recent release. What gave you the idea for it? How long did it take to write? What did you enjoy about writing it? What did you hate?

Like I said earlier, I’m celebrating the release of my new adult fantasy novel, Curling Vines & Crimson Trades! I got the idea for this five-book fantasy series when I was a teenager, but I didn’t feel comfortable writing it until a few years ago. The idea—having four main characters each with their own standalone books with their own stories and challenges, triumphs and failures, only to bring them all together in the final fifth book—seemed too big for me. And it was back then. It might still be too much for me now, honestly, but I wanted to challenge myself and I knew that if I didn’t start it soon, it would haunt me for the rest of my writing career. And I also wanted to pivot into writing fantasy since I’m such a huge nerd for it. Anyway, for Curling Vines, the story is focused on Orenda Silverstone and for her story, I really wanted to do a deep dive into what a person would do to save their loved one and discover how someone who believes they’re broken moves past that feeling. Curling Vines took me about six months to write but then I submitted it to my writing group to critique so the second draft took a little bit longer to hash out. For the enjoyment factor, I loved writing the interactions between the characters, especially Orenda and Lyra. They clash so often! It was fun for me. For the hate factor…hmmm, that one’s a bit harder to pin down. I don’t really hate anything about writing. One thing I can get lost in is the research aspect. For example, for this story, one of the characters Jax fights with a staff and since I had never written about staff fighting before I had to research. And I say, “had to” loosely there; I actually liked researching staff fights! The problem? I remember one night I literally spent my whole writing time—like three hours—researching…I didn’t write a single word. Research is important, don’t get me wrong, but I need a timer or something so I don’t deep dive like that again and forget to actually write the story!

Curling Vine & Crimson Trades

Book cover: Curing Vines and Crimson Trades by Kellie Doherty

Rare goods trader, Orenda Silverstone leads a happy life with her wife and friends. She’s an Elu—a race whose crafting is centered on protection—but her power is broken. Now, her sword is her strength. When her wife gets kidnapped and Orenda has to use her trading skills to complete some nearly impossible tasks to get her back, a good sword arm won’t be enough. Orenda’s time is rapidly coming to a close. She needs help. But she’s been forced into silence. Two sun goddess worshippers, twins Lan and Lyra, decide to join Orenda’s quest in order to guard one of the rarer items to its destination. Orenda’s not sure she can turn her back on either one, but with no other options, she competes against the sunrises to complete her tasks before her wife is killed.  Then, the unthinkable happens. Orenda’s best friend, Jax, tries to kill her. Between racing against the coming dawns and battles at every turn, Orenda’s list now seems insurmountable. No longer certain of who is friend or foe, she must come up with a plan to save them all before the sun rises on her wife’s final day.

Meet Kellie!

Kellie Doherty is a queer science fiction and fantasy author who lives in Eagle River, Alaska. When she noticed that there wasn’t much positive queer representation in the science fiction and fantasy realms, she decided to create her own! Kellie’s work has been published in Image OutWrite 2019, Astral Waters Review, Life (as it) Happens, and Impact, among others. She’s currently working on a five-book adult fantasy series. The first book Sunkissed Feathers & Severed Ties (Desert Palm Press, March 2019) won a 2019 Rainbow Award. The second book Curling Vines & Crimson Trades launched on November 30, 2020, and an excerpt from Curling Vines won first place in an Alaska Writers Guild Fiction contest in 2020. 

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Happy New Year from Nell Iris!

Please welcome Nell to the blog this evening to talk about her lovely New Year’s story, Resolutions for an Arbitrary Holiday. A happy new year to you all, let’s hope 2021 doesn’t suck QUITE so much as 2020 has!

Happy new year, everyone, and a huge thank you to Ally, who has graciously invited me to her blog to talk about my new release, Resolutions for an Arbitrary Holiday. I’m spending my New Year’s Eve with my husband, eating a nice dinner at home, having a glass of wine while turning my back to 2020, and looking forward to a new, hopefully, better year. I shan’t be making any resolutions, though. Not any serious ones at least, and if you want to know about my un-serious one, keep reading 😊

The first people known to have made some kind of new year’s resolutions was the old Babylonian, about 4000 years ago. They held celebrations in honor of the new year, which for the Babylonians started in the middle of March after they’d planted their crops. During a twelve-day festival, they reaffirmed their loyalty to their King (or swore in a new one if something had happened to the old one) and made promises to their gods to pay debts and return borrowed things. Should they not keep their promises, they fell out of favor with the gods, and nobody wanted that.

The Romans had something similar. When Emperor Julius Caesar introduced his new calendar in 46BC, the one deciding that a year is 365 days except on leap years, he declared January 1st as the start of the new year. January was named after the god Janus, who had two faces: one looking back and one looking forward, and thus symbolically looking back over the old year and forward over the coming one. The Romans would make sacrifices to Janus and promise to be on their best behavior for the coming year.

During the Middle Ages, there was The Peacock Vow. The Peacock Vow took place at the end of December; during the last feast of Christmas, knights would lay their hands on a live or roasted peacock and renew their vows of chivalry for the coming year.

New Year’s resolutions seem to have been a common thing by the 17th century, and by 1802, the tradition was so common it was satirized. A practice that’s still common these days. Both the resolution-making and the satirizing of it.

Neither the MC’s in my NYE story, Resolutions for an Arbitrary Holiday, is the kind of person who makes resolutions. Petter decided long before New Year’s Eve to change his life for the better, to be more true to who he really is, and the best Isak can do when put on the spot is to promise to not start smoking the coming year either.

That, by the way, is my new year’s resolution. I’ve made it every year for the last fifteen years or so. Because why make it difficult for yourself? Why not promise something you know you can keep? And since I’ve never been a smoker, I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to keep my resolution for 2021, too. Now, all I need is a peacock to swear on.

Resolutions for an Arbitrary Holiday. Two strangers, a twisted ankle, an ancient stone ship and a New Year's Eve they'll never forget!

Excerpt

Are you the kind of person who makes resolutions?”

“Usually not.” I accept the lit sparkler he holds out to me. I’ve loved these things since I was a little kid, even more than fireworks, and up here, in the howling wind with a sky full of stars above my head, in the company of a kind stranger and huge ancient stones, they’re more beautiful than ever.

“But this year is different?”

“Yeah. I’m doing some…significant changes in my life this coming year, so I thought ‘why not?’ It can’t hurt, right? Even if I agree with you about the arbitrariness of this so-called holiday.”

“You do?”

“Sure. It’s not a thing we celebrate because of some natural phenomenon, like the solstice. It’s just to mark that the Earth has done another lap around the sun. I mean, that’s great and all, but why do we need to celebrate it?”

Isak’s face lights up in a wide grin. “Yes! This is what I always say when people complain because I refuse to embrace the spirit of the holiday.”

I return his smile. “Exactly!”

“I’ll drink to that. Finding a like-minded person makes it worth subjecting myself to this awfulness.” He takes another swig, face contorting, and then hands over the bottle to me.

“Are you trying to poison me?” I take the tiniest of drinks, barely enough to wet my mouth.

“Hey! You’re the one who brought it.”

“And I regret it deeply.”

The sparklers have gone out, and Isak lights a couple new ones, handing me one. “So tell me about your resolution.”

“You’ll think it’s stupid.” I avert my gaze, looking out over the ocean. Far away a tiny pinprick of light moves across the water. Who’s out in a boat now?

“I won’t. Promise.”

I follow the little prick of light as it moves away, and it’s easier to talk about it when I’m not looking at him. “I’m going to be more true to who I really am.”

Gently, he replaces the burned-out sparkler in my hand with a new one. “Why would I think that’s stupid?”

“Because people do. I’m almost thirty, I’m supposed to have reached that stage already in my life.”

“People assume a lot of shit, don’t they?”

I take my eyes off the boat and allow myself to be mesmerized by the sparkler, by the tiny stars shooting out of it in every direction, by the crackling sound and its energy. It burns hot and fast, but it gives its all doing it. “Yeah,” I say.

“I’ll drink to your resolution. I’m sure it doesn’t mean much to you because we don’t know each other, but I think you’re doing the right thing. Now drink.”

When the sparkler sputters and dies out, I look at Isak. “It does mean something. Thank you”. I take an even smaller drink, but the taste still contaminates my tongue.

“What is this crap anyway?” Isak asks

Resolutions for an Arbitrary Holiday

Book cover: Resolutions for an Arbitrary Holiday

Two strangers, a twisted ankle, an ancient stone ship, and a New Year’s Eve they’ll never forget

Petter sneaks out of the New Year’s party he didn’t want to go to and treks to an old burial site he’s dying to see. Alone. Without telling anyone on a freezing December night. Without cell service…a huge problem when he twists his ankle.

Someone passes by Isak’s house on the path leading to the stone ship. When the person never returns, Isak worries and sets off to investigate. What he finds is Petter, a pack of sparklers, and an instant connection.

Under a starry sky, they learn they have a lot in common. Will the attraction burn hot and fizzle out like the fireworks going off over their heads when they return to the real world? Or will it deepen, grow, and turn into something real? Something everlasting like the stone ship?

M/M Contemporary / 20849 words

Meet Nell

Nell Iris is a romantic at heart who believes everyone deserves a happy ending. She’s a bonafide bookworm (learned to read long before she started school), wouldn’t dream of going anywhere without something to read (not even the ladies’ room), loves music (and singing along at the top of her voice but she’s no Celine Dion), and is a real Star Trek nerd (Make it so). She loves words, bullet journals, poetry, wine, coffee-flavored kisses, and fika (a Swedish cultural thing involving coffee and pastry!)

Nell believes passionately in equality for all regardless of race, gender, or sexuality, and wants to make the world a better, less hateful, place.

Nell is a bisexual Swedish woman married to the love of her life, a proud mama of a grown daughter, and is approaching 50 faster than she’d like. She lives in the south of Sweden where she spends her days thinking up stories about people falling in love. After dreaming about being a writer for most of her life, she finally was in a place where she could pursue her dream and released her first book in 2017.

Nell Iris writes gay romance, prefers sweet over angsty, short over long, and quirky characters over alpha males.

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