Along with a load of other Samhain GLBT authors.
Pop over and read some excerpts.
Beth Wylde's Yahoo Group
Please be aware this is an adult group and will have adult content.
Wednesday 24 June 2009
Supernatural Season 1
So I finally finished Season 1 of my Supernatural marathon.
I don’t remember seeing any of the episodes before, so I guess the couple of episodes I caught prior to catching the end of Season 4 must have come from either Season 2 or 3.
I love the banter between Dean and Sam. And I especially like how the episodes manipulate you into feeling more scared through the use of lighting and camera work. One of the reasons I never watch horror movies is because my imagination is always working through the scenes amplifying everything.
Season Finale – it doesn’t matter how many times or how many ways I’ve seen that HGV plowing into a car plot device used* – EVERY SINGLE time it gets a reaction. Usually involving whatever liquid I’m drinking going up in the air and over everything. Onto Season 2, and then I’ve really got to dig my Alias box sets out, I never did see past Season 3 of that show and I’d love to know how everything was resolved.
*I’ve seen it on Alias, Medium, The Bionic Woman, Terminator lol. It’s something of a sci-fi favourite.
I don’t remember seeing any of the episodes before, so I guess the couple of episodes I caught prior to catching the end of Season 4 must have come from either Season 2 or 3.
I love the banter between Dean and Sam. And I especially like how the episodes manipulate you into feeling more scared through the use of lighting and camera work. One of the reasons I never watch horror movies is because my imagination is always working through the scenes amplifying everything.
Season Finale – it doesn’t matter how many times or how many ways I’ve seen that HGV plowing into a car plot device used* – EVERY SINGLE time it gets a reaction. Usually involving whatever liquid I’m drinking going up in the air and over everything. Onto Season 2, and then I’ve really got to dig my Alias box sets out, I never did see past Season 3 of that show and I’d love to know how everything was resolved.
*I’ve seen it on Alias, Medium, The Bionic Woman, Terminator lol. It’s something of a sci-fi favourite.
Monday 22 June 2009
A Reader's Viewpoint
Jenre had three very interesting posts on her blog this week (technically I guess it's last week now). Well worth checking out. Posts are titled Author Promotion : A Reader's Viewpoint. Parts 1, 2 and 3.
Well Read Blog
I guess I kind of suck at blogging. My personal life is just not that interesting and it takes me a long time to write anything. So it's hardly a thrill a minuted around here. But I promise if you ever e-mail me I'll do my best to answer. :)
Well Read Blog
I guess I kind of suck at blogging. My personal life is just not that interesting and it takes me a long time to write anything. So it's hardly a thrill a minuted around here. But I promise if you ever e-mail me I'll do my best to answer. :)
Wednesday 10 June 2009
Supernatural
I didn’t get into this show when it first came out. I’m trying to limit the number of shows I watch (with only some success) so I’ve got more time for writing. But I caught a Season 4 episode of this a few weeks ago. The one where Dean and Sam find out that someone is writing books about them.
And I loved the scene where Dean and Sam are finding out about all the stories written about them, some of them online and they discuss slash fiction - lol. I don’t know of any other show where the characters who are being slashed discuss the fact that they are being slashed.* Just like that I was hooked.
So I’ve treated myself to the Season 1-3 boxset and am furiously catching up on all the episodes I’ve missed. This also helps me pass the time whilst I wait for FX in the UK to get around to showing True Blood. It has to happen soon!
* Okay there were undercurrents between Angel and Spike but never anything as matter of fact as the Supernatural episode.
And I loved the scene where Dean and Sam are finding out about all the stories written about them, some of them online and they discuss slash fiction - lol. I don’t know of any other show where the characters who are being slashed discuss the fact that they are being slashed.* Just like that I was hooked.
So I’ve treated myself to the Season 1-3 boxset and am furiously catching up on all the episodes I’ve missed. This also helps me pass the time whilst I wait for FX in the UK to get around to showing True Blood. It has to happen soon!
* Okay there were undercurrents between Angel and Spike but never anything as matter of fact as the Supernatural episode.
Sunday 7 June 2009
Brief Encounter (1)
So here’s my first little excerpt, it’s unedited (lol as you’ll easily tell). Set in the Five Brothers Universe, it’s something that I’m just playing around with at the moment.
Brief Encounter,(unedited), copyright Sarah Leslie
If he was going to do it, it would have to be now. Tonight was the last stop of their journey; there would be no other opportunity. John knew he should move, make the short walk across the restaurant, and put his proposition to the stranger. But the thought of doing that in front of the other diners paralyzed him. So he remained poised on the edge of his seat, stirring his coffee first one way then the other.
When he’d first boarded the train three days ago he’d been resigned to his fate – four days of traveling via solar train to the metropolis of Kyranth, then at journey’s end his marriage to the purportedly beautiful and unknown Isabella. It was what his father expected and what his family wanted. He’d never disappointed them before. Perhaps that was only because he’d never been given the chance.
On the second day of the journey the stranger had joined the train, taking a seat in John’s carriage. And everything changed.
The tattoo on the stranger’s cheek proclaimed his profession – companion, concubine, courtesan. The stylized design informed those who cared to know that he belonged to the highest caste of prostitute, those who would be courted for their talents by the greatest nobles – kings, queens and their ministers. He was a temptation which John couldn’t ignore.
He appraised the stranger’s appearance, sculpted lips, high cheekbones, hooded eyes; then spent the journey torturing himself with thoughts of what the man must look like underneath his exquisitely tailored clothes.
Mrs. Denby leaned over to him and whispered in his ear. “I didn’t realize they allowed people like that on the train.”
He’d turned to her with a perplexed frown.
“Whore,” she clarified in a voice that was no longer a whisper.
Across the carriage the stranger’s body stiffened almost imperceptibly at the comment; then he relaxed into his seat with a graceful liquidity of movement John couldn’t help but envy. The man smiled briefly at Mrs. Denby, then returned his attention to the book in his hands.
John was only partially aware of Mrs. Denby’s shocked gasp as she stuttered out “Well I never.” He hadn’t been able to tear his gaze away from the strangers bent head. He reflected it was a sadness that Mrs. Denby had ‘never’, he reflected it was a sadness that neither had he.
He’d determined to approach the stranger that evening, when the train stopped for the night, even knowing he wouldn’t be able to afford the man’s fee. But fear had kept him immobile that night and the next.
Now he’d run out of time.
He had ten sovereigns in his pocket, not much to show for twenty years of saving, but it was all his. He tried not to think of the five hundred sovereigns in his strongbox on the train. That money was part of the bridal contract and he couldn’t spend it – no matter the temptation or the desire – but that didn’t stop him from thinking how easy it would be.
As his thoughts returned to the present, John noticed he still stirred his coffee and set down the spoon with a clatter of silverware against china. He didn’t need to see the flush on his face to feel the unwelcome warmth. In the few seconds he took to compose himself the stranger exited the room.
John swallowed down his disappointment, maybe this was for the best. The nervous pounding of his heart subsided to its normal beat and he tried to tell himself he was relieved. He tucked his meal voucher underneath his coffee cup and left the dining room. He ignored Mrs. Denby’s entreaties to join her and her husband for a game of cards. Instead, he took the stairs to his room, each step a death knell counting down the remnants of his life. His focus narrowed down to the inevitability of domesticity and familial responsibility, like a noose tightening round his throat.
When he finally stopped, he stood outside not his own room but the strangers and before he could let himself think, he knocked three times.
Brief Encounter,(unedited), copyright Sarah Leslie
If he was going to do it, it would have to be now. Tonight was the last stop of their journey; there would be no other opportunity. John knew he should move, make the short walk across the restaurant, and put his proposition to the stranger. But the thought of doing that in front of the other diners paralyzed him. So he remained poised on the edge of his seat, stirring his coffee first one way then the other.
When he’d first boarded the train three days ago he’d been resigned to his fate – four days of traveling via solar train to the metropolis of Kyranth, then at journey’s end his marriage to the purportedly beautiful and unknown Isabella. It was what his father expected and what his family wanted. He’d never disappointed them before. Perhaps that was only because he’d never been given the chance.
On the second day of the journey the stranger had joined the train, taking a seat in John’s carriage. And everything changed.
The tattoo on the stranger’s cheek proclaimed his profession – companion, concubine, courtesan. The stylized design informed those who cared to know that he belonged to the highest caste of prostitute, those who would be courted for their talents by the greatest nobles – kings, queens and their ministers. He was a temptation which John couldn’t ignore.
He appraised the stranger’s appearance, sculpted lips, high cheekbones, hooded eyes; then spent the journey torturing himself with thoughts of what the man must look like underneath his exquisitely tailored clothes.
Mrs. Denby leaned over to him and whispered in his ear. “I didn’t realize they allowed people like that on the train.”
He’d turned to her with a perplexed frown.
“Whore,” she clarified in a voice that was no longer a whisper.
Across the carriage the stranger’s body stiffened almost imperceptibly at the comment; then he relaxed into his seat with a graceful liquidity of movement John couldn’t help but envy. The man smiled briefly at Mrs. Denby, then returned his attention to the book in his hands.
John was only partially aware of Mrs. Denby’s shocked gasp as she stuttered out “Well I never.” He hadn’t been able to tear his gaze away from the strangers bent head. He reflected it was a sadness that Mrs. Denby had ‘never’, he reflected it was a sadness that neither had he.
He’d determined to approach the stranger that evening, when the train stopped for the night, even knowing he wouldn’t be able to afford the man’s fee. But fear had kept him immobile that night and the next.
Now he’d run out of time.
He had ten sovereigns in his pocket, not much to show for twenty years of saving, but it was all his. He tried not to think of the five hundred sovereigns in his strongbox on the train. That money was part of the bridal contract and he couldn’t spend it – no matter the temptation or the desire – but that didn’t stop him from thinking how easy it would be.
As his thoughts returned to the present, John noticed he still stirred his coffee and set down the spoon with a clatter of silverware against china. He didn’t need to see the flush on his face to feel the unwelcome warmth. In the few seconds he took to compose himself the stranger exited the room.
John swallowed down his disappointment, maybe this was for the best. The nervous pounding of his heart subsided to its normal beat and he tried to tell himself he was relieved. He tucked his meal voucher underneath his coffee cup and left the dining room. He ignored Mrs. Denby’s entreaties to join her and her husband for a game of cards. Instead, he took the stairs to his room, each step a death knell counting down the remnants of his life. His focus narrowed down to the inevitability of domesticity and familial responsibility, like a noose tightening round his throat.
When he finally stopped, he stood outside not his own room but the strangers and before he could let himself think, he knocked three times.
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