Blog Tour & Excerpt – Family and Reflection by Anne Barwell

And Then What Happened? 

Thanks, Charlie, for hosting me. 

As this is my final blog post for Family and Reflection, book 3 of The Sleepless City—the urban fantasy series which is a joint project between myself and Elizabeth Noble—I thought it was a good time to focus on what happens next. Not just for the characters of The Sleepless City, but for my writing.

Next up for The Sleepless City is the 4th and final book, Shifting Chaos by Elizabeth, which is coming from Dreamspinner Press on 7th September.

But although it’s the final book of The Sleepless City series, it’s not for the universe we’ve created. Both Elizabeth and I are writing spin-off series.  Mine is called Opus and Elizabeth’s is Akhkaru Nasara The Vampire Guard.  Follow the links for more information on both series.

I’m looking forward to further exploring this universe, revisiting familiar characters, and meeting new ones.  I’m planning to start writing the first book, Double Exposure, next year.

But in the meantime, I have other series that need attention.  I’m 40K into One Word, which is a spin off story for my Hidden Places series. It takes place during the six weeks that Cathal and Tomas were in Naearu, and is a contemporary story within a fantasy series.

After that I will be writing Comes a Horseman, which is the third and final instalment of my WWII series, Echoes.  That series is being republished by DSP Publications with the second edition of Shadowboxing coming out in May 2016, followed in December 2016 by Winter Duet in December 2016. All going well Comes a Horseman will come out six months after that.

I’ve also started plotting the last two books of the Dragons of Astria series. I’m looking forward to not only expanding the dragon mythos, but their world and its magic system.  With new characters, an expanding map, and an epic plot, Aric and Denys still have some challenges ahead.

Familyandreflection

2015NewAbout the Book

Family and Reflection

Book 3 of The Sleepless City, Sequel to Electric Candle

For as long as Lucas Coate can remember, werewolves have been taught to mistrust vampires. Lucas is an exception—he has close friends who are vampires. The werewolf pack in Flint—and their leader, Jacob Coate—have made it clear that Lucas’s association with vampires is barely tolerated, and another transgression will be his last. When Lucas finds out about the plague of werewolf deaths in the area, he wants to help even though his own life may already be in danger.

Declan has been away from Flint for ten years, but he isn’t surprised to learn that the internal politics of the Supernatural Council haven’t changed for the better. When a series of burglaries hit close to home soon after he arrives, Declan—a vampire and professional thief—is their prime suspect, although for once, he isn’t responsible. With the council keeping secrets, no one is safe. Time is running out, and for Lucas and Declan, everything is about to change.

Purchase Links

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Paperback: http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=6465 

2015NewExcerpt

Declan turned the page of his book, read the first paragraph, then shook his head. He wasn’t sure why he’d bothered, as he couldn’t for the life of him remember what had happened on the previous page, let alone in the last few chapters. He closed the book with a thump, got up from the table, went over to the fridge, and opened it.

He wasn’t hungry, but if he had been, the mold-covered plate on one of the shelves would have put him off whatever else had taken his fancy. Someone really needed to have a word with Lucas about leaving his science experiments to breed. Declan lifted the plate somewhat cautiously and sniffed it, then wished he hadn’t. City coroner or not, this wasn’t… normal. Normal people cleaned out their leftovers before they got the chance to become strange new life forms.

Even if, in this case, his definition of normal was a werewolf.

But, despite his reaction, Declan couldn’t bring himself to throw the—whatever it was—away. To him it was disgusting, but to Lucas it might be some new discovery crucial to whatever he was currently working on. And Declan didn’t want to upset Lucas. In the short time they’d known each other, he’d become quite fond of Lucas, and enjoyed the time they spent together.

Declan sighed. He returned the offending thing to its previous resting place, ignoring the visions of reanimated zombie leftovers creeping up the stairs to attack him in the middle of the night, and instead got a wineglass out of the cupboard. He poured himself a decent-sized portion of his favorite red beverage and settled back down on the chair he’d recently vacated. As much as he enjoyed a good vintage wine, there were times when one had to quench one’s other thirsts. He sniffed the glass and savored the aroma before swallowing.

Hmm, not bad. It was amazing the standard of blood available to purchase through the right sources. It made it so much easier to feed than it used to be, and less messy too.

He heard the light step on the stairs and human heartbeat long before Ben reached the kitchen and stood awkwardly in the doorway.

“Hello, Ben,” Declan said. “Don’t worry, you’re not disturbing me.”

“If you’re sure?” Ben Leyton ran one hand through his thick dark hair. He looked tired. “I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d make a Milo and see if that helps.”

“I heard Simon having a nightmare earlier. He never did sleep well on anniversaries.” He’d known Simon Hawthorne a long time; Jonas Forge had introduced them shortly after Simon had been turned. Declan had also helped Simon through a dark part of his life, triggered by the events he suspected had prompted this particular nightmare, given the time of year. “I also don’t mind if you turn on the light.”

Although Declan didn’t need much light to see, especially with the full moon casting its glow into the room, Ben would appreciate more illumination.

“Yeah, well, they’re the worst times for most people, I guess.” Ben flicked on the light switch before walking across the kitchen. He filled the kettle and put it on to boil before reaching into the cupboard and bringing down a green can. “Do you want some? It’s a chocolate drink.”

“Thank you but no.” Declan indicated the glass in front of him.

The loud howl almost made him jump, and only years of practiced self-control stopped him. Even so, Declan’s hairs stood on end on the back of his neck, and the howl sent a shiver through him.

Lucas howled again. Frustration, anger, and loss all rolled into a sound that was pure wolf.

Declan knocked his glass over, spilling its contents. Without thinking, he moved at vampire speed, catching what was left of the blood in his palm and drinking deeply.

The glass fell to the floor, smashing into tiny pieces. He ignored it and finished the blood, then wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. A low growl escaped his lips. He knew his eyes were completely green. They tended to do that when his fangs extended.

When he looked up, Ben was staring at him, his eyes wide. “I’ll clean up the mess, shall I?” Ben said hurriedly, already heading for the broom.

“Don’t worry,” Declan said. “I’ll do it. Make your chocolate drink, mon ami. It’s my mess, so my responsibility, yes?”

2015NewAbout the author

Anne Barwell lives in Wellington, New Zealand.  She shares her home with two cats who are convinced that the house is run to suit them; this is an ongoing “discussion,” and to date it appears as though the cats may be winning.

In 2008 she completed her conjoint BA in English Literature and Music/Bachelor of Teaching. She has worked as a music teacher, a primary school teacher, and now works in a library. She is a member of the Upper Hutt Science Fiction Club and plays violin for Hutt Valley Orchestra.

She is an avid reader across a wide range of genres and a watcher of far too many TV series and movies, although it can be argued that there is no such thing as “too many.” These, of course, are best enjoyed with a decent cup of tea and further the continuing argument that the concept of “spare time” is really just a myth.

Anne’s books have twice received honorable mentions and twice reached the finals in the Rainbow Awards.

connectwiththeauthor

Blog:  http://anne-barwell.livejournal.com/

Website: http://annebarwell.wordpress.com/

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Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/anne.barwell.1

Google+: https://plus.google.com/u/0/115084832208481414034/posts

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http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/AuthorArcade/anne-barwell

Guest Post & Excerpt: On Wings of Song by Anne Barwell

Thanks, Charlie, for hosting me today :)

No one really wins a war.  Even if one side is ‘victorious’ over the other, it comes at a very high price for both sides.  Often those who survive are left with not only physical injuries, but mental and emotional ones too.

During WWI post traumatic stress syndrome was not recognised or understood. Soldiers suffering from it were either sent back to the front lines or shot for desertion if they ran because they couldn’t face returning to the horrors that had already scarred them.  Many who fought refused to talk about their experiences, even years later.  Recurring nightmares were common. So was jumping at loud noises as it threw them back into the memories of the battlefield, and the sound of bombs and gunfire. Many men saw their friends die in front of them. Accounts of seeing men caught in the barbed wire between the trenches and no man’s land are common. I’ve read several stories of men caught in a bomb blast while climbing the wire, and the only thing left of them are an arm, or a leg.

In Wings of Song, Jochen and Aiden fight on opposite sides of the war, but neither of them escape unscathed.  Six year later, when they meet in London, both men can see the difference in each other.  Both have lost so much, and still have nightmares about what happened to them and those around them.  Although I knew they were damaged, I didn’t realise just how much until I began writing their story.  I had originally thought about giving them a series as I want to write a detective series set in the 1920s, but it soon began clear that it couldn’t happen.  They’ll still be there, but as side characters, or appear as a cameo.

My grandfather fought in the trenches in WWI.  My father spoke of how he never talked about it and how the family said his health was never the same afterwards.  Sadly he died before I was born so I never had the opportunity to meet him.  He was an artist, and from I’ve heard, very much like my dad in personality.

Many families grew up having lost loved ones, or had them return as a completely different person from who they were before. Often the psychological injuries were far worse than the physical, and much harder to heal. For many they never really did.

Yet, despite this, and with the memories of everything and everyone they’d lost still fresh in their minds, just over ten years later the world was at war again.  People often ask me why I write stories set during WW1 and II. There’s a saying that those who forget history are doomed to repeat it.  I think that’s why it’s important to remember those who fought in the war, and not whitewash their experiences.

Lest we forget.

OnWingsofSongLG

BOOK DETAILS

Title: On Wings of Song
Author: Anne Barwell
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
ISBN: 97816325497
Length: 110 Pages
Genre: Historical, Gay Romance, European
Release date: December 24, 2014

Purchase Links

Dreamspinner Press eBook

2015About the book

Six years after meeting British soldier Aiden Foster during the Christmas Truce of 1914, Jochen Weber still finds himself thinking about Aiden, their shared conversation about literature, and Aiden’s beautiful singing voice. A visit to London gives Jochen the opportunity to search for Aiden, but he’s shocked at what he finds.

The uniform button Jochen gave him is the only thing Aiden has left of the past he’s lost. The war and its aftermath ripped everything away from him, including his family and his music. When Jochen reappears in his life, Aiden enjoys their growing friendship but knows he has nothing to offer. Not anymore.

2015Excerpt

“I’ve seen it,” Aiden said quietly. “I wish to God I hadn’t.” He looked directly at Jochen. Jochen met Aiden’s gaze. He’d seen an echo of Conrad’s fire in Aiden when he’d talked about his music earlier that afternoon.

“Don’t die on the wire, Aiden.”

“I’ll try not to.” Aiden’s words were an empty promise. They both knew it, but what else was he going to say?

The red-haired man Aiden had spoken to about arranging the burials walked over to him. He too held a shovel, and he wiped perspiration from his brow despite the cold. “There’s going to be a combined service for the dead,” he told them. “In about ten minutes in no man’s land in front of the French trenches.”

As they made their way over, men were already beginning to gather, soldiers from opposite sides sitting together, conversation dwindling to a respectful silence. A British chaplain stood in front of them, a Bible in his hand, a German beside him. Jochen recognized him, although he didn’t know his name. The young man was only a few years older than Jochen and was studying for the ministry—would he ever get the chance to complete those studies?

Jochen and Aiden found somewhere to sit a few rows back from the front and joined the company of men. The German spoke first. “Vater unser, der du bist im Himmel. Geheiligt werde dein Name.”

The British chaplain repeated the words in English. “Our Father who art in Heaven, Hallowed be thy Name.”

They then spoke a few words each, some from the Bible, the rest from their hearts. Their congregation was silent apart from a few quiet “amens.” Jochen saw a couple of men wipe tears away. He was close to it himself.

Finally the chaplain bowed his head in prayer. When he’d finished, he spoke quietly to the man who had come to stand next to him. It was Captain Williams. He nodded and looked over the crowd, his gaze fixing on Aiden.

Aiden must have guessed what Williams wanted. He inclined his head in response and then stood. Jochen glanced between the two men, confused. What did Williams expect Aiden to do?

“Aiden?” Jochen asked softly.

Aiden smiled at him and began to sing. “O Holy Night, the stars are brightly shining….” He lifted his head, his voice strong and clear, each note building on the last to create something truly beautiful, something angelic. Aiden’s eyes shone; his body swayed slightly in time with the music. He was the music.

His audience sat in awe. Jochen could feel the emotion rippling through the men around him, tangible, as though he could reach out and touch it. He felt something inside himself reach out, wanting to be a part of it, to be carried along the wave of pure music, to grab it and never let go.

2015About the author

Anne Barwell lives in Wellington, New Zealand.  She shares her home with two cats who are convinced that the house is run to suit them; this is an ongoing “discussion,” and to date it appears as though the cats may be winning.

In 2008 she completed her conjoint BA in English Literature and Music/Bachelor of Teaching. She has worked as a music teacher, a primary school teacher, and now works in a library. She is a member of the Upper Hutt Science Fiction Club and plays violin for Hutt Valley Orchestra.

She is an avid reader across a wide range of genres and a watcher of far too many TV series and movies, although it can be argued that there is no such thing as “too many.” These, of course, are best enjoyed with a decent cup of tea and further the continuing argument that the concept of “spare time” is really just a myth.

connectwiththeauthor

BlogWebsiteCoffee Unicorns |  FacebookGoodreads
Dreamspinner Press Author Page

 2015 Divider

 

Guest Post & Excerpt – Anne Barwell: Music Code

Thanks, Charlie, for hosting me today.

When I was studying Music History as part of my degree, one of the things that fascinated me was the use of code in music.  Although it was used in WW2 when my upcoming release Winter Duet was set, it had also been used long before that.

Bach used musical notes to spell out ‘Bach’ in his music, using the fact that modern music notation had developed from modes—in German ‘B flat’ was ‘B’ and ‘B natural’ was H—and phonetics. Later, Schumann used several musical cryptograms in his music, spelling out not just his own name, but that of Clara Wieck, who would later become his wife.  Other codes were based on pitch, motifs (repeated musical phrases) and note lengths. There are many more examples and variations out there across a range of different composers.

And yes, Clara Lehrer, Kristopher’s sister, is named after Clara Schumann.

Kristopher in Winter Duet is a musician, or was before he chose to pursue his passion for science.  He still tends to hum music while thinking through problems. So, when he and Michel need to work out a code to leave messages for each other, music is the logical choice.  Michel is also a musician. He plays the flute, and promised Kristopher, who is a violinist, a duet in the first book Shadowboxing.

He still intends to keep that promise.

One of the set pieces for that same paper that covered the music codes, was Schubert’s Winterreise — a collection of poems by Müller, Schubert had set to music.  In Winter Duet, the Resistance uses lines from one of the poems as code phrases, and Kristopher refers to one of the others later, ‘Der Leiermann’, which is about the wanderer in winter.  Also, given Kristopher’s background and education, it was something he’d recognise, even if the other characters didn’t, which led nicely into the use of music as code between him and Michel, something he’d been thinking about anyway.

I knew that university paper would come in useful somewhere.

WinterDuet400x600

Winter Duet is available from Dreamspinner Press on 6th October.

Purchase Links

Dreamspinner Press

TH2014Blurb

Echoes book 2 – Sequel to Shadowboxing

Germany 1944

With Kristopher finally fit enough to travel, he and Michel leave the security of their safe house and continue their journey across Germany toward Switzerland. Caught in a series of Allied bombings, they stop to help civilians and narrowly escape capture by German forces.

While investigating a downed aircraft in the Black Forest, the two men discover an injured RAF pilot.  After they are separated, Kristopher and the pilot are discovered by a German officer who claims he is not who he appears to be. Determined to find Michel again, Kristopher has to trust the stranger and hope he is not connected to those searching for him and the information he carries. Meanwhile Michel is intercepted by one of the Allied soldiers he met in Berlin. His help is needed to save one of their own.

Time quickly runs out. Loyalties are tested and betrayed as the Gestapo closes in. Michel can only hope that they can reach safety before information is revealed that could compromise not only his and Kristopher’s lives, but those of the remaining members of their team—if it is not already too late.

TH2014Excerpt

“Oh.” Kristopher paused, his spoon halfway to his mouth. “I’m sorry. I never thought. I didn’t mean to….” The words trailed off. Telling them he hadn’t meant to embarrass them would only serve to do just that.

“I’d never heard the poems before either,” Michel said. He glanced toward the door, as though suddenly nervous.

“That’s the thing with wars,” Karolina said. “They draw all sorts of different people together, don’t they? It doesn’t matter who you are. Out there on the battlefield everyone’s the same, aren’t they?”

“Yes, they are.” Kristopher swallowed a mouthful of beans while he collected his thoughts. “I was a musician,” he said at last. “It was a long time ago. Sometimes it feels as though it was in another lifetime. I’ve been trying to work out why the code phrase sounded so familiar. I’m sorry. I guess I should have kept it to myself.”

“Nonsense,” Georg said briskly. “Don’t apologize for having a good education, and if it gives you some distraction to get through this terrible time, you should use it.” Karolina placed a hand on his shoulder. He reached up and placed his hand over hers. A sad look crossed her face, and she suddenly appeared a lot older.

Kristopher bit his lip. He lowered his gaze and concentrated on eating. He hadn’t meant to upset either of them. Michel had warned him to keep any conversation brief and focus on very general topics.

Damn it. He wasn’t very good at this at all. For a short time he’d forgotten their situation and been caught up in the moment, remembering his passion for his music and wanting to share it.

“Paul….” Michel spoke Kristopher’s assumed name, and he looked up. “Karolina’s right. This war has drawn people together who normally wouldn’t have even met. Perhaps we should take it as an opportunity to learn new things, hmm? We all have something to offer.”

“Well said, Gabriel.” Karolina squeezed her husband’s hand. “It’s been too long since Georg and I had the company of young people. You said you were a musician, Paul. What instrument did you play?”

“I play the violin, although I haven’t picked it up in years.” Kristopher watched the couple, noticing the way in which they took comfort from each other’s touch. He wanted so badly to be able to just lean over and take Michel’s hand in his and be open in front of others as to how they felt about each other. During the months spent in the attic at St. Gertrud’s, they’d still had to be careful, but they’d been left alone for much of the time. He hadn’t realized just how difficult having to hide their relationship was going to be.

“We’re not that young,” Michel said when Kristopher lapsed into silence again. He’d told Kristopher he’d turned thirty on his last birthday. Kristopher was almost a year younger and had wondered at the time where both of them would be by his next birthday, which was only a few months away.

Georg chuckled. “You’re about the same age as our boy, so to us, that makes you young.” He got out of his chair. “I’m going to make some tea. Do you want some? Here, Karolina, have my chair. You’re not getting any younger.”

“My husband, he thinks he’s funny,” Karolina said. She gave him a light peck on the cheek and went to clip his ear again, but he ducked out of the way and headed toward the kitchen.

“He’s only offering me his chair to keep me away from my knitting. He knows full well I’ll poke him with one of my needles if he gives me too much cheek.”

“How long have you been married?” Michel asked. He seemed amused by their banter. Kristopher wondered if it reminded him of his parents.

“Since just before the last war.” Karolina picked up the cloth bag Kristopher had noticed earlier and settled into the other armchair. She opened the bag and took out yarn and what appeared to be a large knitted square on needles. “We’d met the year before, and I waited for him to come home to me and our newborn son. I didn’t allow myself to think he might not. Tell me, do you have someone waiting for you?”

Kristopher glanced at Michel. Karolina wasn’t exactly following what he’d been told about keeping to safe subjects either.

“I have someone, yes,” Michel said finally. “I want nothing more than this war to finish so we can have a life together, but sometimes I doubt that will ever happen.”

“It will,” Kristopher said firmly. He placed his bowl on his knee, feeling the warmth of it through his trousers. “When you love someone, you wait for however long it takes.”

 

TH2014Author

Anne Barwell lives in Wellington, New Zealand.  She shares her home with two cats who are convinced that the house is run to suit them; this is an ongoing “discussion,” and to date it appears as though the cats may be winning.

In 2008 she completed her conjoint BA in English Literature and Music/Bachelor of Teaching. She has worked as a music teacher, a primary school teacher, and now works in a library. She is a member of the Upper Hutt Science Fiction Club and plays violin for Hutt Valley Orchestra.

She is an avid reader across a wide range of genres and a watcher of far too many TV series and movies, although it can be argued that there is no such thing as “too many.” These, of course, are best enjoyed with a decent cup of tea and further the continuing argument that the concept of “spare time” is really just a myth.

connectwiththeauthor

http://anne-barwell.livejournal.com/

http://annebarwell.wordpress.com/

http://coffeeunicorns.wordpress.com/

http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/index.php?cPath=55_426