Guest Blog post : http://www.moonlightgleam.com/2013/05/author-guest-post-with-amanda-m-lyons.html?showComment=1368354979152#c5269530914015328323
Tuesday, May 7, 2013Author Guest Post With Amanda M. Lyons
Amanda M. Lyons has kindly agreed to guest post here about her work, and share her inspiration for becoming a writer in honor of her debut release, Eyes Like Blue Fire.
About The Author:
A longtime fan of horror and fantasy Ms. Lyons writes character driven novels that while influenced by her darker interests, can also be heavily laced with fantasy, romance, history and magic. Amanda M. Lyons has lived her whole life in rural Ohio where she lives with her fiance and two children. Eyes Like Blue Fire is her first novel.
Find Amanda M. Lyons on the Web:
Twitter | Amazon | Goodreads | Facebook
Guest Post:
I was always an imaginative person. As a kid my parents would probably have said I was TOO imaginative. I can joke about it now but the truth is I actually had to grow a great big imagination in order to get by. I was a lonely kid, the other kids didn't really hang out with me and I had to make up games to entertain myself or I probably would have been pretty bad off. It was fun and I had some great ideas but I also had that imagination pull tricks on me and one of the biggest things it did was make me see things that weren't really there.
You can probably guess where this is going. Yep, I was-and in some ways still am-a wee bit of a scaredy cat.I was afraid of the dark, I was afraid of snakes, I was afraid of heights-well I was afraid of just about everything. The funny thing is that as a kid I was also a big fan of horror movies and because of writers like Stephen King that made movies when I was small that love also transferred to horror books. I ate up ghost stories, paranormal encounters and events, books on horror movies, on all kinds of monsters and eventually on writing horror too.
I think I wound up being a writer because I had that great big scary imagination but also because I wanted to understand my own fears. I wanted to test the limits of my imagination and see if I could create what others had inspired in me. I also loved books and the way that words could affect a person, not just in horror but in all sorts of genres. For this reason my own books (which are so far all horror not that I think it will always be the case) are tinged with elements of other things like fantasy, romance and the dramatic. I was inspired by King first but soon after it was also writers like Clive Barker, Anne Rice, David J Schow, Shirley Jackson, and even later writers like Poppy Z. Brite, Gary Braunbeck and Ray Garton.
There are a lot of people for whom just writing something is enough but from the age of 12 (when I wrote my first real story and impressed my 6th grade teacher to no end) on I was determined to become a published author. Mr. Flinner gave me a start by encouraging me to write stories for in class talent shows and later other teacher's like Mrs. Roche encouraged me to learn how to use the knife or tell the reader what before I had neglected to put on the paper. From there it was Miss Clark the high school librarian who read and critiqued along with half willing captive audiences like my poor tortured brother Robbie or my friends, later followed by my fiance. I think we owe all of those people and all of those events a little gratitude for their presence. They are after all exactly what inspires us to imagine, to read, to create, to keep on going when you have the least amount of belief in your work and to cut when you need a knife to sharpen your work. What inspired me to become a writer? Life and living it.
Eyes Like Blue Fire:
Title: Eyes Like Blue Fire
Author:Amanda M. Lyons
Publication Date: April 5th 2013
Katja is a vampire who has lost sense of herself and her value in the world. Lost, broken and damaged she wanders the streets of Europe hoping to find some sense of purpose beyond the death and tragedy she has always known. Betrayed by her sire and left alone in the night she is startled to discover herself forming a connection to a young man who shares a close resemblance to her master and lover. Though everything in her begs her to stay with him she flees only to come running back to save him when a sadistic monster from her sire's past comes to destroy the only hope she has had in 300 years.
Katja and Raven will face many horrors among them Renfield style zombies, ghosts and the undead. This is also the first in the series Broken Edges.
Find Eyes Like Blue Fire Online:
Goodreads | Amazon
Book Excerpt:
As he sat up, he heard soft dripping sounds from the bathroom, little plips like water slipping over the edges of the tub and into the floor. The hairs on the back of his neck rose as he realized where he'd last heard that sound.
His muscles tight with strain from his earlier exertions, he stood and walked warily toward the half open bathroom door and the tub beyond it. Slipping quietly past the door, he saw that the curtain was drawn, and again the shadowed figure lay behind it.
One long, slim, leg dangled from the end of the tub, beads of water gliding down its length and off the polished toes. At the other end he saw a mass of auburn curls, matted deep red near the porcelain of the tub. It was the dream and the vision again, more real now, too strong to deny.
Shaking, he moved toward the curtain, gagging on the sickly smell of rust and roses, feeling the thin nylon glide between thumb and palm as he pulled it back to reveal his darkest nightmare and deepest regret.
He could see the crimson water now, blood bubbles gliding over its surface and clinging to the legs dangling over the tub's edge. When he'd pulled the curtain completely away from the tub and around to its opposite side, he saw her face.
Her eyes were closed and he saw that her lids were bruised and purple against the translucent paleness of her face, drained completely dead white under the makeup she'd brushed on before she'd died. Staggering by the sight of her, he knelt by the tub and extended one shaking hand to touch her cheek.
It all seemed as if he'd walked into a horror film and once again he needed to prove to his mind that this wasn't real. His hand shook as he lifted it nearer to her flesh, waiting for the corpse, the supposedly dead and buried to move.
He touched his quivering fingers to her face, feeling its claylike reality. The sensation caused an immediate shudder of revulsion and he fought not to vomit. Even as the moment came, the sight of her moving in the water startled him and he jumped away from the tub.
It wasn't an obvious movement at first, only soft breaths moving in and out of her nostrils, but then her chest rose and fell with it and he quaked, feeling unstable where he knelt on the floor.
Her eyes opened next and he felt the blood fall out of his face, wanting to scream but too afraid he would cause her to take some action, to reach out and touch him, proving well and forever that he was indeed insane.
Scream and you might as well slit your own throat.
He swallowed the scream like a rock and stared as her eyes moved slowly in their sockets, locking on him. Slowly, as if she'd lost control of her muscles, she rose from the tub and looked down at him, smiling. Blood water slid down her bare body, over her neck, down her back and the smooth ridges of her breasts, to slip slowly down her thighs and down over her calves. A puddle spread on the floor, and as it extended toward him he struggled to his feet, skittering away from it.
As he watched it spread, he shivered, weak as he started to cry frantic, horrified tears. Breaking down, he looked back up at her face and slipped to the floor once more, his knees incapable of sustaining his own weight. The smile grew wider as she strode to his shivering form, thrown on his side and struggling to rise.
The blood water seeped into his clothes, making him sick, a drop of it trickling along the lobe of his ear and into it. And then she leaned down, holding those dim, stained curls of auburn out of her face and tucking them behind her ear. Her lips parted, blue beneath the strong crimson red of her lipstick, and she spoke into his ear with the chill breath of the dead.
His eyes grew wide and horrified as she spoke, the hair on his neck rising, sending a maddening shiver of fear through him. “I‟ve returned, Raven.” She whispered “And I want what is mine.” The last thing he saw before his mind, finally, thankfully, shut down was her face in front of his pursed for a kiss.
Happy reading until next time!
Tuesday, May 7, 2013Author Guest Post With Amanda M. Lyons
Amanda M. Lyons has kindly agreed to guest post here about her work, and share her inspiration for becoming a writer in honor of her debut release, Eyes Like Blue Fire.
About The Author:
A longtime fan of horror and fantasy Ms. Lyons writes character driven novels that while influenced by her darker interests, can also be heavily laced with fantasy, romance, history and magic. Amanda M. Lyons has lived her whole life in rural Ohio where she lives with her fiance and two children. Eyes Like Blue Fire is her first novel.
Find Amanda M. Lyons on the Web:
Twitter | Amazon | Goodreads | Facebook
Guest Post:
I was always an imaginative person. As a kid my parents would probably have said I was TOO imaginative. I can joke about it now but the truth is I actually had to grow a great big imagination in order to get by. I was a lonely kid, the other kids didn't really hang out with me and I had to make up games to entertain myself or I probably would have been pretty bad off. It was fun and I had some great ideas but I also had that imagination pull tricks on me and one of the biggest things it did was make me see things that weren't really there.
You can probably guess where this is going. Yep, I was-and in some ways still am-a wee bit of a scaredy cat.I was afraid of the dark, I was afraid of snakes, I was afraid of heights-well I was afraid of just about everything. The funny thing is that as a kid I was also a big fan of horror movies and because of writers like Stephen King that made movies when I was small that love also transferred to horror books. I ate up ghost stories, paranormal encounters and events, books on horror movies, on all kinds of monsters and eventually on writing horror too.
I think I wound up being a writer because I had that great big scary imagination but also because I wanted to understand my own fears. I wanted to test the limits of my imagination and see if I could create what others had inspired in me. I also loved books and the way that words could affect a person, not just in horror but in all sorts of genres. For this reason my own books (which are so far all horror not that I think it will always be the case) are tinged with elements of other things like fantasy, romance and the dramatic. I was inspired by King first but soon after it was also writers like Clive Barker, Anne Rice, David J Schow, Shirley Jackson, and even later writers like Poppy Z. Brite, Gary Braunbeck and Ray Garton.
There are a lot of people for whom just writing something is enough but from the age of 12 (when I wrote my first real story and impressed my 6th grade teacher to no end) on I was determined to become a published author. Mr. Flinner gave me a start by encouraging me to write stories for in class talent shows and later other teacher's like Mrs. Roche encouraged me to learn how to use the knife or tell the reader what before I had neglected to put on the paper. From there it was Miss Clark the high school librarian who read and critiqued along with half willing captive audiences like my poor tortured brother Robbie or my friends, later followed by my fiance. I think we owe all of those people and all of those events a little gratitude for their presence. They are after all exactly what inspires us to imagine, to read, to create, to keep on going when you have the least amount of belief in your work and to cut when you need a knife to sharpen your work. What inspired me to become a writer? Life and living it.
Eyes Like Blue Fire:
Title: Eyes Like Blue Fire
Author:Amanda M. Lyons
Publication Date: April 5th 2013
Katja is a vampire who has lost sense of herself and her value in the world. Lost, broken and damaged she wanders the streets of Europe hoping to find some sense of purpose beyond the death and tragedy she has always known. Betrayed by her sire and left alone in the night she is startled to discover herself forming a connection to a young man who shares a close resemblance to her master and lover. Though everything in her begs her to stay with him she flees only to come running back to save him when a sadistic monster from her sire's past comes to destroy the only hope she has had in 300 years.
Katja and Raven will face many horrors among them Renfield style zombies, ghosts and the undead. This is also the first in the series Broken Edges.
Find Eyes Like Blue Fire Online:
Goodreads | Amazon
Book Excerpt:
As he sat up, he heard soft dripping sounds from the bathroom, little plips like water slipping over the edges of the tub and into the floor. The hairs on the back of his neck rose as he realized where he'd last heard that sound.
His muscles tight with strain from his earlier exertions, he stood and walked warily toward the half open bathroom door and the tub beyond it. Slipping quietly past the door, he saw that the curtain was drawn, and again the shadowed figure lay behind it.
One long, slim, leg dangled from the end of the tub, beads of water gliding down its length and off the polished toes. At the other end he saw a mass of auburn curls, matted deep red near the porcelain of the tub. It was the dream and the vision again, more real now, too strong to deny.
Shaking, he moved toward the curtain, gagging on the sickly smell of rust and roses, feeling the thin nylon glide between thumb and palm as he pulled it back to reveal his darkest nightmare and deepest regret.
He could see the crimson water now, blood bubbles gliding over its surface and clinging to the legs dangling over the tub's edge. When he'd pulled the curtain completely away from the tub and around to its opposite side, he saw her face.
Her eyes were closed and he saw that her lids were bruised and purple against the translucent paleness of her face, drained completely dead white under the makeup she'd brushed on before she'd died. Staggering by the sight of her, he knelt by the tub and extended one shaking hand to touch her cheek.
It all seemed as if he'd walked into a horror film and once again he needed to prove to his mind that this wasn't real. His hand shook as he lifted it nearer to her flesh, waiting for the corpse, the supposedly dead and buried to move.
He touched his quivering fingers to her face, feeling its claylike reality. The sensation caused an immediate shudder of revulsion and he fought not to vomit. Even as the moment came, the sight of her moving in the water startled him and he jumped away from the tub.
It wasn't an obvious movement at first, only soft breaths moving in and out of her nostrils, but then her chest rose and fell with it and he quaked, feeling unstable where he knelt on the floor.
Her eyes opened next and he felt the blood fall out of his face, wanting to scream but too afraid he would cause her to take some action, to reach out and touch him, proving well and forever that he was indeed insane.
Scream and you might as well slit your own throat.
He swallowed the scream like a rock and stared as her eyes moved slowly in their sockets, locking on him. Slowly, as if she'd lost control of her muscles, she rose from the tub and looked down at him, smiling. Blood water slid down her bare body, over her neck, down her back and the smooth ridges of her breasts, to slip slowly down her thighs and down over her calves. A puddle spread on the floor, and as it extended toward him he struggled to his feet, skittering away from it.
As he watched it spread, he shivered, weak as he started to cry frantic, horrified tears. Breaking down, he looked back up at her face and slipped to the floor once more, his knees incapable of sustaining his own weight. The smile grew wider as she strode to his shivering form, thrown on his side and struggling to rise.
The blood water seeped into his clothes, making him sick, a drop of it trickling along the lobe of his ear and into it. And then she leaned down, holding those dim, stained curls of auburn out of her face and tucking them behind her ear. Her lips parted, blue beneath the strong crimson red of her lipstick, and she spoke into his ear with the chill breath of the dead.
His eyes grew wide and horrified as she spoke, the hair on his neck rising, sending a maddening shiver of fear through him. “I‟ve returned, Raven.” She whispered “And I want what is mine.” The last thing he saw before his mind, finally, thankfully, shut down was her face in front of his pursed for a kiss.
Happy reading until next time!
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