Monday, October 8, 2018

Guest Author: Janet Morris

I, The Sun
by Janet Morris

From palace coups in the lost city of Hattusas to treachery in the Egyptian court of Tutankhamun, that is the world of I, the Sun. This is the saga of the Hittite King Suppiluliumas, and rings with authenticity and the passion of a world that existed 1400 years before the birth of Christ.
They called him Great King, Favorite of the Storm God, the Valiant. He conquered more than forty nations and brought fear and war to the very doorstep of 18th Dynasty Egypt, but he could not conquer the one woman he truly loved.
©2014 Janet Morris (P)2015 Janet Morris and Chris Morris
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"This masterpiece of historical fiction was based on the actual writings and historical records of Suppiluliumas I, the great Hittite king who dominated the Middle East around the 14th century, BC. He rebuilt the old capital of Hattusas, and from there exercised his Imperial Power over the Hittite heartland, controlling the lands between the Mediterranean and Euphrates."


Read a short excerpt from the book:
My apartment had two rooms, lavish enough in a manly way, its walls covered with sere hunting scenes and floors strewn with trophy pelts, horned and fanged.  Outside at each end of the corridor were posted armed guards, to whom my host had introduced me as he commended them into my service for the evening.  I paced the quarters, feeling as if I had made camp between the jaws of the dragon, Illuyankas, and thought pernicious thoughts.  After a time I fed the hearth, opening the shutters to roll up the curtains for the night.

Sampling his wine, I wondered once more as to the wisdom of this undertaking.  When at last the double doors rattled, then cracked open, I was brooding over my drink, sprawled on a settee strewn with a foxtail rug, and half expecting to see the pikes of the guards, for I had nearly decided I had made a mistake.  It would not have been the first time a king’s pride had been his undoing.
Thus I was up on my feet with dirk in hand, spilled wine dripping between my toes when she stepped through the doors and closed them behind her.

“Truce, my lord Suppiluliumas?  Surely what my father has told you of me has not made you fear for your life?”  Her eyes were the colors of her father’s, but thrice as wide.  Her hair, black as my own, tumbled unfettered over bare pale shoulders, wide and proud.

Flushed, I mumbled that one might expect she would come announced, accompanied by handmaidens, or at least a chaperon. Hastily sheathing my blade, I stooped down to retrieve the fallen goblet.

Our hands reached it at the same time, touched.  She drew hers back; the bracelets she wore tinkled.  Crouching there, I cast aside pretense, rendering her the complete and admiring scrutiny her dress – or rather the lack of it – demanded.  The girl who knelt at arm’s length opposite me wore a pleated length of sheer stuff wrapped once around her, and bracelets on wrists and ankles – that was all.  “I had thought, from what your sire said, that you would come to me swaddled like a priestess or bearing arms like your goddess.  If I stare, then I can do no different.  The three years since I last saw you have only exalted your beauty.”

On the lids of her downcast eyes, gilding caught the light as the fire flared up.  “My lord, you have me at a disadvantage – I had not ever seen you until you arrived this day.”  Raising her head, she touched her proud throat with her hand, running spread fingers down her breast to smooth the softly shining gown which concealed nothing.  “And as for my attire, this garb is appropriate for greeting royalty in the palace, on Alashiya, so I thought I would accord you the honor your title demands, and dress as well for you.  Do you not approve?”

“I approve most heartily; it is only that the memory I have carried is pale before the reality.”

“Dear suitor, you are pleasing in my sight also,” she sighed, “but I fear this affair can never reach a satisfactory conclusion.”  As she spoke she rose and, in three long strides that belied the delicacy of the primped lady before me, sat abruptly on the couch.  Her adult manners regained, she stretched languorously and with a feline smile gestured that I do likewise.

I pulled up a chair carved with stags and straddled it.  She was fair enough to warrant all that had been risked; indeed, I no longer wondered what had driven me to seek her so ardently.  Between certain women and men passion explodes like the stars that fall from heaven, bright and awe-inspiring and god-given – and brief.  One woman in a thousand has had that affect on me.  It is not love, but some affinity of flesh to flesh, yet, this obviously intelligent girl, who sat before me in as studied and alluring a fashion as might a temple prostitute, could not be taken merely to quench the fire she lit.  And she knew it.  Remembering all her father had said of her, I no longer discounted his cautions.  I had a stock of well-turned phrases from my days as a young and eligible hero; I spent some of them in amenities, allowing her to serve me wine, letting her take her time coming around to it.
“Suppiluliumas, My Sun, Great King,” she spoke some of my titles with obvious relish, “I have said that this marriage cannot be, and yet you have not asked me why.  Are you content merely to look at me, to talk awhile and depart to your citadel and your wars?  Or do you see something, now that I am in your presence, that has inclined you not to press your suit?”

Available in:
From Perseid Publishing

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Joe Bonadonna

3 months ago  -  Shared publicly
 
Bravo, Janet! You know how I feel about you, your writing and everything you've taught me. Thank you so much for joining us today.
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Joe Bonadonna via Google+

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Today on #OurAuthorGang, we meet one of my favorite authors, who is also my friend and mentor, Janet Morris. Her "The Sacred Band" series is still a high-water more in the genre of realistic heroic fantasy. "I the Sun" is one of the great historical fantasy novels I've ever read.
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Cindy Smith shared this via Google+

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Cindy Smith, thanks so much for sharing I, the Sun.

Ruth de Jauregui via Google+

3 months ago  -  Shared publicly
 
Janet Morris shares an excerpt of her amazing historical novel I, The Sun on #OurAuthorGang today. It is truly a masterful piece of writing! Stop by and check out her post!
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Ruth de Jauregui

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Oh my, that is utterly amazing! Thank you so much for joining us today Janet!
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Ruth de Jauregui, thanks so much.

Chris Weigand

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Looks exciting. I will add it to my tbr pile.
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We hope you like reading I, the Sun as much as we enjoyed writing it, Chris Weigand.

Chris Weigand shared this via Google+

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Thanks for sharing I, the Sun, Chris Weigand.

Toi Thomas

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Thanks so much for sharing your incredible Egyptian historical fiction with us today.
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Toi Thomas, my pleasure.

Toi Thomas via Google+

3 months ago  -  Shared publicly
 
Today, we welcome historical fiction author Janet Morris to #OurAuthorGang.
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Thanks for having me, Toi Thomas.

Lorraine Carey

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Just reading this sample of your work has mesmerized! Sharing Google + Thank you for being a guest author.
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Thanks for your generous comment, Lorraine Carey.
 
+Janet Morris You are most welcome. I have heard many great things about your novels.

Erika M Szabo shared this via Google+

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Erika M Szabo

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Thank you for introducing us to your historical fiction masterpiece Janet!
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Erika, thanks for inviting me, Erika M Szabo. We appreciate your interest in I, the Sun.


Sunday, October 7, 2018

New Member N Osguthorpe

Welcome our new Author Gang member, N Osguthorpe



When I released my first book my editor said to me that I needed to write an author bio for the front cover. I threw her a pained expression and rolled my eyes. 

‘Really? Would anybody seriously be interested in knowing about me?’ 

My editor picked up on my reluctance and suggested an excerpt from the book instead, with which I was much more comfortable; however as time goes on and I wade my way through the murky waters of promoting a self-published Indi-book I have grudgingly come to realize that you do really want to know this stuff and so here I am.

Born in a small village in South Yorkshire England, I was a happy little girl with a wicked imagination and absolutely no interest in education what so ever. I remember my first day at school very vaguely; as the cushions in the book corner were comfy, the sun was shining in through the windows and there were fairies playing in the garden outside. When the teacher pulled me into reality to go and paint a picture; the room was dark and cold and the other children were strange but the paint was good and I enjoyed splatting the brush down onto the paper and making footprints across my page. Then the teacher told me I was naughty and my picture was a mess because we don’t use brushes like that. To be fair primary school never really got any better for me and I stumbled my way through avoiding any kind of work at all.

At night when I went home my parents would be exasperated with my lack of progress but they loved me very much and did everything they could to help and then at bedtime my Mum and Dad would read to me and my sister the most amazing stories, with knights and magicians, incredible shrinking women and monsters, strange eggs which hatched into dragons and cheeky borrowers who lived in the walls and under the floors. Then we would have the three little pigs for the twelfth thousands time as it was my sisters favourite and to be fair Dad did a mean big bad wolf.

When I was eleven I got myself a copy of ‘The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe.’ I couldn’t wait for Dad to read it to me and I was horrified when he shook his head and told me I was old enough to read it for myself. Finally, with the motivation handed to me, I took the book, snuck into Mum and Dad’s big wardrobe, promptly came back out again as it was very, very dark and jumped on the windowsill, where  I pulled the curtain around myself and began the process of teaching myself to read. 

From that moment on everything changed for me. I had started secondary school in a special needs class but within a year was pulled up to the top set. I worked hard and did my best; all the while devouring the books from the fantasy and science fiction shelf in the teen section of the local bookshop. Dad progressed from bedtime stories to filling any spare minute with his retellings of Harry Harrison’s Stainless Steel Rat, Eric Frank Russell and Arthur. C. Clark and whichever other science fiction book he was reading at the time; while I chose Lord of the Rings, David Eddings and Raymond. E. Feist’s and any other fantasy adventure I could get my hands on.

School was always a struggle for me. I never did master spelling which is probably why I waited so long to write my first book. Instead, I went to University and trained to be a teacher, the job I have done ever since. I met my husband and got married and we had our two amazing daughters. We filled our home with cats and dogs and love and fun but every now and again I would go back to the story I started in 1989 as a GCSE assignment to write the introductory chapter of a novel; and I would add a page or a chapter and painfully slowly the story grew.

In 2017 I self-published my first book; ‘The Rise of Xyakah, Book one of the Mysta Prophecy‘ Under my maiden name of N.L. Osguthorpe and have been overwhelmed with the feedback and love I have received for my book.

 So now I live in the same village where I grew up; with my husband and my children and my cats and my dog, across the road from my Mum and Dad and just down the road from my sister and her beautiful family. Three days a week I work as a primary school teacher and my weekends are filled with family but now for two days, I get to indulge in my greatest passion, where I weave my stories and build my characters and plot surprises at every turn of a page. Book Two of the Mysta Prophecy is scheduled to be released next summer. Yes, I write slowly; but not quite as slowly as I once did!

On AMAZON

The Ladaston family have been plagued by tragedy, to such an extent that pain and grief have become part of everyday living for eighteen year old Elayna Ladaston. Now a greater challenge looms as an ancient evil is unleashed on the land and Elayna finds herself the target of a gruesome and sinister cult. With no choice but to trust her only friend the mysterious Lyaren she embarks on a journey which will lead her to the very heart of danger and open within her a mysterious connection to an ancient magic as it is evoked around her. 
The rise of Xyakah is the first part of a fast paced thrilling fantasy adventure enriched with endearing characters, looming disaster and an ancient magic reawakening in a world on the verge of war.

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COMMENTS

Erika M Szabo shared this via Google+

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Erika M Szabo

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We're happy to have you in the group :)
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Toi Thomas

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Welcome to the group. So glad to have you here. Former educator here, still working with the little nuggets I love.
 
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Toi Thomas via Google+

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Today, we welcome new member, Author N.L.Osguthorpe to #OurAuthorGang.
 
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Tricia Drammeh

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Welcome to the gang! It's great to have you here!
 
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Eva Pasco

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Interesting story about how reading turned your life around to become a teacher and accomplished writer.
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Lorraine Carey

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Welcome to the group. As a retired teacher myself I thank you for your service my dear. It's amazing how you overcame your struggles through the early school years and are now in education. Sounds like you have a unique imagination.
 
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