According to the commercial I just heard in my car, there is every indication that I have unnaturally low testosterone, including my inability to have and maintain an erection. Lucky for me, the convenience store sells pills for this, right by the gummy bear section.

A Writer's Life

I'm working hard to get The Curse of Dark Root: Part Two out. I have just 40 days to get it all done before the final editor takes over. Writing a novel is tough, especially one with a complicated story line, and my brain doesn't want to shut off. Every time I close my eyes I see another scene, or something I've missed, or something that needs to be added. When I'm writing, I live in another world and its tough to pull out of it. And then, when it's done, I get 'writer's amnesia' where I have a hard time remembering what I wrote at all.

The Dark Root books take about 9 months for me to write (sometimes slightly more or less) and I'm always baffled and dazed when they are done.

And its never enough. There are always things you could do/change, even after your book is for sale. Always a part of me that screams "wait!" But like the saying goes, art is never finished, just abandoned.

At any rate, I'm hoping my readers enjoy this one. Im feeling more pressure this time than anytime before. And when Im freaking out I ask myself "why the hell am I doing this?" And then, almost miraculously, I get an email or a msg or a review from someone telling me how important my books are to them, and then I remember.

Heart Day 2016

My husband took me to dinner last night for Valentine's Day. It was lovely. Cheese, meat, and chocolate fondue until you can't take it anymore. He even got me a card.
Not a big deal,right? Well, the last card he got me was on my birthday and 1. He forgot to sign it 2. He forgot to give it to me and 3. He forgot to take it out of the bag. He's wonderful in many ways, but spontaneous romance (or one that involves milling around the Hallmark section of the grocery store) isnt his forte.
But the card was sweet and thoughtful. He wrote that he loved his 'quirky, lovable, brilliant, creative, and inspiring wife.' I  melted. Not sure what or why but those words got to me. Like, he saw the best in me and I knew it.
As a side note, I did try and get him something from Victoria's Secret for Valentine's Day (and wow, I just realized the acronym for that is VD which might have been appropriate during some age) but the corsets they tried to sell me pushed my middle in, while doubling my bottom and tripling my chins. Although Im sure darling husband wouldn't have minded, I have that image of the beautiful sales girl trying to tell me I looked 'amazing' (when we both knew I didn't) forever, and ever.
Oh well. That's married love, I suppose.

Woodland Creek Spotlight

This month's Book Nymph magazine features the Woodland Creek books, all 30 of them. Check it out :)
The Good Girl's Guide to Being a Demon is featured on page 30.

Why the Cult?

One question I get asked a lot about my Dark Root books is 'why does book one start out like that?'

Warning: Spoilers ahead!

The 'start' referred to is Maggie's time in the cult. Yes, cult, I said it. I think we can officially agree Maggie was in a cult.

There are a few reasons for this, and it was very intentional. The first being that this book was originally defined as 'women's fiction' rather than 'paranormal.' In women's fiction, the emphasis is on relationships and inner problems. For Maggie, who was a middle child and felt at odds with her natural family, her relationship with Michael was her first outside of her family. Its important for the rest of the story, as Maggie (whose mother has always distrusted the male gender) has to learn her own way to love, and to trust men. Its tricky for her, and I really wanted to solidify her heartbreak. That way, IF she can move past it, thats a form of transcendence.

Secondly, though my books are about 'witchiness' they are about so much more. Family comes to mind. But more than that, faith. Though it didn't work out with Maggie and Michael's religion, she learned about another faith (misguided though it was). Faith exists in many forms and Maggie had to lose hers again, in order to have it later restored. I also feel its very important to show that one faith is no more important than the other, its just important to believe in something. Sometimes that belief doesn't work out, but that doesn't mean we are done. There are other things we can believe in: a higher power, our friends and family, humanity. I think at times many of us are just stumbling around, trying to figure things out, and I wanted Maggie to embody that human struggle.


And finally, some of what happened at the beginning of book one MAY come back later in the series. And Michael may end up playing some pivotal roles. Just because his beliefs have been torn apart, doesn't mean he cant rebuild either. Thats the cool thing about faith. If you really have it, deep down, it might change over time, but it stays there.

So yeah, that's why theres the cult scene. And for those of you who've read this book and asked 'is Jason ever coming back' I will say, his story isn't done. It may come back in flashbacks, or stories, or appearances, but he's still around. I kinda fell in love with him and I didnt forget him. He's just not around 'yet'.

But more of that in The Curse of Dark Root, Part two perhaps.

BTW if you haven't read The Witches of Dark Root, you can read it in Happily Ever Alpha, along with 21 other stories, for just 99 cents. Preorder today.

Haunted Portland

I went to Orycon this weekend. This is Oregon's scifi/fantasy con and it was pretty fun. I'm a noob so wasn't sure what to expect but there were some fun panels (which I even helped lead when one of the presenters didn't show up), people dressed up in all sorts of costume, and some 'quiz games' that I was apparently too inebriated to play.

One really cool thing was I met a man named Jefferson Davis. He's an anthropologist/archaeologist/historian who wrote books on haunted places around the world, including the pacific northwest. He also helped write Weird Oregon.

Mr Davis is going to give me a tour of haunted Portland soon for research on my books and Im so excited. This guy really knows his stuff.

At some point I'll be writing Juliana Benbridge's back story for my Dark Root series, and she was cast out of Victorian Portland because of witchcraft. Now, I'll have some great details to add to this.

Its always interesting to me who you'll meet in this world, often times unexpectedly. I love that!

Dark Root Christmas available Nov 25

A Dark Root Christmas: Merry's Gift, will be available days earlier than expected!
If you need a Dark Root fix until Curse part 2 comes out in the spring, this should help :)
The Maddock girls (when they were young) tackle Christmas in this mystical 20k word novella.
Love, family, and magick take center stage.

Pre-Order now for just 99 cents. Read on Nov 25th!

April Aasheim Book Signing-Orycon 2015

I'll be selling and signing books at Orycon in Portland, Oregon at the beautiful Waterfront Marriott Hotel from 1-3 on Saturday, Nov 21. I'll be in the dealers room at the NIWA table. If you're around, please come say hi. :)

What's a Demon to Do?

The Good Girl's Guide to Being a Demon is live!
Does your lineage determine your life path or do you have free will?
Check it out for just 2.99. It's also FREE to read with Kindle Unlimited :)

A Dark Root Christmas

A Dark Root Christmas: Merry's Gift is available for pre-order now.
Order now, read Nov 29.
Just 99cents for a limited time.

A Dark Root Christmas - Sneak Preview

(Sneak Preview - A Dark Root Christmas: Merry's Gift)

Prologue

The star fell.

It plunged from the sky like a china cup toppling from its hook, shattering into a thousand crystalline pieces as it tumbled through the otherwise still winter’s night.

“It was beautiful,” Merry insisted when she told the story to her Aunt Dora the following evening, her full lips turning into a pout. “But I wasn’t fast enough to make a wish while it was still in the sky.”

Aunt Dora, who’d been busy trying to get her electric mixer to work, nodded her soft chin, only half-listening. “Mmm-hmm.”

Merry closed her eyes, remembering the star’s dance, twisting and undulating against the backdrop of a Dark Root moon. In another moment the star broke apart. Lustrous, golden trains the color of Merry’s hair followed the fragments as they streaked across the sky.

“They were so bright,” she continued as she dipped a finger into the silver bowl while Aunt Dora wrestled with her mixer. “Every one of them. I had to hold my breath because I was afraid that if I moved, I’d frighten them away.”

“Mmm,” Aunt Dora half-heartedly agreed as she tried outlet after outlet without success.

Merry bowed her head, catching her reflection in the bowl. Her normally round face was lengthened in the mirror, lending her a shadowed glimpse of what her adult self would look like one day. “They died before they reached the earth. Every one of them.”

“Aye. As stars do.” Dora hit the switch and the mixer roared to life, before abruptly stalling again. “Someday our star will die, as well.”

“That’s horrible!”

Aunt Dora’s cumbersome shoulders hunched and then relaxed, a weighty sigh escaping her lips. “That is the cycle of life. There is a beginning and an end to everything.” Then, giving her niece a firm look, added, “And part of the reason for your being here, sweet Merry. To keep our own star aglow for as long as possible.”

It was an unwieldy burden for a ten-year-old child, and one Merry couldn’t possibly fathom, but she took her Aunt’s news with a patient resolve. She couldn’t be afraid. If she were afraid, her sisters would be, too.

Besides, the star tails hadn’t all died. There was one fragment that survived the fall, one small star seed that Merry hadn’t mentioned.

It had dropped softly into the forest just yards away from her.

She ran for it, unafraid of the night or the creatures lurking within, trying to reach it before it dissolved into an earth softened by light snow and heavy rains.

And when she found it, she stopped and gasped, her cornflower blue eyes full of wonder.

Where the star tail had fallen there was now a tiny bright light springing up out of the ground, a light no larger than the palm of her hand. It shone like a lit candle, casting a white halo on the already powdery forest around her.

And as Merry stepped tentatively forward, she saw that in that light there was a silver tree sapling. Rich on the nutrients of the star-shard and the magic of Dark Root soil, the silver tree grew before her eyes until it nearly reached the height of her knees.

“Oh!” was all she could say, then quickly recovered from her astonishment. She made a silent wish on the seedling, though she didn’t know if a wish would take when the star was no longer in the sky.

But it was her only chance and she made her wish like only a child could - with reverence and a certainty that there was someone watching over her, and that special someone had sent her the star.

It was nearly her birthday after all.

Merry didn’t tell a soul about what she’d found or the wish she’d made.

Not her teddy bears or her dolls, nor her sisters or her mother. Not even her Aunt Dora, who had now tossed out the old mixer with the casualness of one throwing out a cat for the night, and was whisking her cake batter by hand, grunting and huffing all the while.

There was one other omission to her story - the white, baby owl she’d found huddled near the sapling, covering its face beneath a wing.

“You’re beautiful,” she told the bird, taking him with her as she returned back home.

Merry told no one of these discoveries.

For she was the keeper of secrets, then, and evermore.

Coming Thanksgiving, 2015.

Newsletter

Want to read my Nov 2 newsletter. CLICK HERE :)

And if you want to sign up for my newsletter its at www.aprilaasheimwriter.com.

Lots of fun info and prizes!

Froggy Style

I had the most disturbing conversation with my husband last night, after a few glasses of wine.We were talking about the alleged breakup of Miss Piggy and Kermit the Frog.Now, I never knew they formally dated. I saw the sexual tension between the two of them, but maybe I missed the whole real courtship.
I asked my  husband about it, in case he could direct me to the proper sources.
His response was a furrowed brow and a Hmmm.
"What?" I asked.
"How do you think they do it?"
"What do you mean?"
"Logistics wise," he said.
"I don't know."
"Froggy style?"
"What the hell?"
"You know, like doggy but with their legs splayed out."
"Now that's just sick. And ack! I can't get the image out of my head."
He smiles at me. "Sorry about that." He pauses a moment, takes another sip of his wine, and then continues. "Do you think he just flops around. Like you know how his arms go all jiggly?"
"Please stop."
"No, seriously."
I couldn't dislodge the image of Kermit flopping around on Miss Piggy from my head. I tried reverse it by having her be the one on top. That wasn't any better.
"I hate you," I said.
"Why?"
"Because you ruined my childhood. It was okay for me to picture them kissing, but this...this..." I swallowed the last of my drink. "I can never go back to the Shire now, you know that, right?"
"You're welcome. Now how about some green eggs and ham?"

Hi Honey, I'm Home.

My husband's home today, which for me means little or no works getting done.
He's sick, but he's not one to stay in bed. Instead, he's bouncing between TVs, taking work emails, sending voice texts, and commenting on the news.
All day.
I used to think I'd look forward to the time he retires and we can both be 'stay at home writers' but I'm pretty sure we'd end up killing each other if that happened, unless we got a MUCH bigger house.
Still, its nice to have him around, even if I dont get much done myself.
Ive come to realize every day spent with someone you love is precious, even if they do want to make you gnaw off your own arm.

Panty Domes

I think we should start building domes over countries made out of panties.

Seriously, they seem to be constructed of this magical, impenetrable material that we should harness for national security.

My husband came into the room the other night and saw me under the blankets, with a book in my hand. "You naked?" he asked, a smile creeping on his face.

"Nope. Got panties on."

The smile instantly vanished, replaced by a Snidely Whiplash, "Drats, Foiled again!" look. He then went to the lamp, turned it off, and went to sleep.

Who knew panties had that kind of power? Like, he didn't even want to mess with them. "You're wearing panties? Too much for me. I'm out!"

Panties must be bad ass, like kryptonite.

No wonder men get excited when they see them in lingerie stores. It means one less pair is on an actual woman!

In light of this revelation, I might have to rethink my panty distribution and the effects they have on my safety. I can still wear 1 pair in the suburbs but when I go into Downtown Portland I might double up. And to be safe, when I'm traveling to places like LA or Vegas, I should probably wear 4 pairs.

So back to my original point. We should build domes over countries (or even cities) made of nothing but panty material. Once rival nations catch wind of this they won't even bother trying to send their armies.

They'll just climb into bed and turn out the lights.

New Books on the Horizon

I have TWO new releases coming out in November.

The first book is called The Good Girl's Guide to Being a Demon. It's about small-town girl, Cassie Martin, who suddenly finds herself in the precarious position of growing horns. After receiving a book from her long-dead mother regarding the incident, Cassie journeys home and meets up with childhood friend (and crush) Josh Tucker, who is studying to be a youth minister. Mayhem ensues.

This is part of the woodland creek series and features 30 authors writing in the same world, all with guaranteed happily ever after romantic endings. And of course, mine is probably the odd woman's out ;)

The release day is Nov 15 and is available for preorder HERE.

The second book will be available right after Thanksgiving and is called: A Dark Root Christmas-Merry's Gift. Its set in my Dark Root world and is the story of 10-year-old Merry who befriends a mysterious owl while trying to put some holiday spirit back in her family's lives. Its sweet and slightly different than my other books, but its a fun nostalgic walk back through Dark Root. Pre-order info coming soon.

And I know I have MANY readers waiting for Curse Part 2. I assure you I'm working on it. Its a big undertaking since it will be the set up for future books and I want to make sure to get it right (and give you all a great reading experience). Look for it in Spring, 2016!
Cheers!

The Many Mes o Me

I was watching a movie the other night. One of the main characters was a woman. who went on a killing spree after being repeatedly sexualized by men. There were so many reactions I had to this:

Pragmatic Me: If she doesn't want to be hit on constantly, why is she wearing lingerie out to clubs?
Feminist Me: She should be allowed to wear whatever she likes. We have to teach men not to objectify women, no matter what they wear.
Anthropological Me: Seriously? You think we can just train men not to sexualize women when they see bare breasts and butts? This is millions of  years of biology at work here. Even if they're nice guys, their gonna notice, even if they don't react.
Neurotic Me: Would someone sexualize me if I was wearing that outfit? I went to the supermarket the other day in a skirt that hardly reached my knees and nothing. Not a second glance from even the produce man. What am I saying? I wouldn't want men to harass me like that. I deserve to walk around in whatever I want, and not be sexualized. Still...it might be nice to be noticed.
Sad Me: I'm too chubby right now to wear lingerie out to clubs anyway. My thighs would be jiggling and my back fat would be all bunched up.
Feminist Me: You are a person, more than just the sum of your body parts. Get over it. You don't owe it to anyone to be pretty or sexy. Focus on your mind.
Pragmatic Me: Shut up, all of you! I paid 3.50 to rent this movie and I missed most of it because of your arguing.
Neurotic Me: 3.50? God. I hope I used the right debit card for this. I'm overdrawn at one of my banks.
Pragmatic Me: This is why we can't have nice things.

Grateful for the Message

I'm not Catholic. But I'm spiritual. I've spent time dabbling in a lot of major religions, and several minor ones as well. What I've come to understand is that many of them say the same thing. In the words of Bill and Ted: Be excellent to each other.

So today I saw the Pope on CNN addressing a bipartisan Congress and I was moved to tears. His message was simple. Care for one another. Don't forget the vulnerable. Work towards bettering the future.

But most of all I was struck by the way everyone listened to him. Such a simple message and all ears and eyes were on him.

It really changed the nature of my day. For once I didn't walk around thinking 'if only I had this' or 'if only I could do that.' All I could think about today was gratitude.

The simplest messages are sometimes the best. And I'm very happy that I got to hear this one.

Prologue: The Good Girl's Guide to Being a Demon

This is the prologue for : The Good Girl's Guide to Being a Demon which comes out in early November, 2015. It's set in a fictional town called Woodland Creek. I'm collaborating with 29 other authors who are all writing paranormal fantasies in this world. Here's the site: http://woodlandcreekseries.com/

Anyways...

Prologue

   The river churned, black and thick as tar under the cloak of dusk. A few stars dotted the sky and Cassie Martin looked for Polaris, the one that was supposed to point her back home.

   Was it at the end of the Little Dipper or the big one? She couldn’t remember as she wound her way along the river, listening to the chilling night sounds surrounding her. She smelled the smoke and heard the popping sounds of roaring campfires, and more than once she wanted to run to one of them - to tell whoever was tending to s’mores that she was lost and afraid, and could they please escort her back to her cabin? But fear kept her along the river. She had secretly watched enough scary movies to know that the woods were full of bad things - bears and werewolves and crazy people, and as long as she stayed to the river, she would find her way back and be okay.

   She shouldn’t have been so stupid, she told herself. She knew there was no such thing as a Snipe, but she went along with the hunt because her brother and her best friend Jenn had teased her about being afraid of everything.

   “I am not,” she said, fists balled up.

   “Then prove it,” Jenn returned. “Come with me and we’ll find a Snipe. We’ll show these boys that girls are better.”

   “Yeah, show us you’re better,” Kevin echoed.

   Only Kevin’s friend Josh seemed worried, elbowing him in the ribs. “They’re only nine,” Josh reminded him.

   “So? At nine we were sneaking beer out of dad’s cooler. These girls need to man up. We can’t be around to take care of them forever.”

   “We don’t need you anyway,” Cassie said, looping her arm through Jen’s. “Where was that snipe? We’ll find it and bring it back and then I want you to admit that girls are better than boys.”

   “If you bring us a Snipe, I promise I’ll admit that girls are better than boys.” Kevin spit into his hand. Cassie spit on hers too, and the siblings shook on it.

   The problem was that Jenn had disappeared a few minutes after they had folded into the woods. She said she had to pee behind a tree and had never come out. Now Cassie was alone and disoriented. She remembered that the creek ran behind the cabins, and if she could just follow the creek…

   But the stream was swollen this year. “Almost double the normal rain,” her father said. It didn’t trickle - it gushed. And when the sun had disappeared, it looked like a winding sinister serpent, crawling along beside her, ready to eat her up.

   Still, it was better than the woods.

   “Kevin!” she called out. “Jen! Josh?” Her words were met with a low howling sound, followed by utter silence.

   Josh had told her that if she was ever lost, she should find a place and wait that someone would come for her. She spotted a stump near a fork in the river and sat down, looking up at the full summer moon, counting the fireflies that buzzed around her. It would have been beautiful if she weren’t so scared.

   “One Mississippi,” she counted slow to take her mind off her fear. “Two Mississippi.”

   She heard another howling sound, this one closer. It was quickly followed by another, and then a whole pack of yelps and whines echoed through the trees.

   Dad would come. He always came. He’d realize that she was missing and then he’d round everyone up to find her, and Jenn as well.

   The howling sounds grew closer and Cassie shivered, wrapping her arms around her chest to shield herself from the night. But when she heard several twigs break just feet away, she knew she wasn’t safe. She bolted from her spot and raced along the river’s edge, watching it churn towards its unseen destination. But the clearing ended and the woods deepened. She spun around, uncertain where to go.

   And then she saw them. Not her family, nor the wild dogs whose cries filled the night.

   The Shadow People.

   They fell from the trees, slithering down the branches and marched towards her. 

   They were more terrible than wild animals or werewolves or even crazy people.

   Cassie turned and charged in the opposite direction, screaming as she went.

   But her foot hit a sleek stone and she slipped, falling backwards into the raging water.

   She went under but managed to grab a branch extending out from the bank, holding on to it for dear life while her feet pulled her downstream. She couldn’t hold long. At any second she would lose her grip and drift away.

    “Help!” she called, knowing her words were lost to the night. Above her the North Star shone. “Mom, if you can hear me,” she whimpered in desperation. “Please save me.”

   A figure emerged from the woods. A boy, not much taller than herself.

   “Help!” she called again, choking back icy water. The comic book she’d been reading tore out of her sweater pocket and disappeared.

   “Cassie!” It was Josh. He charged right for her, grabbing her hand just as she lost her grip on the branch.

   He stooped down and pulled her from the river’s maw, then removed his flannel jacket and wrapped it around her shivering body. She hugged him, nearly crying as she rubbed her nose into his chest.

   “I love you, Josh,” she whispered.

   Suddenly, her father, brother and Jenn appeared, all racing towards them.

   “Thank God you’re alright,” her father said, scooping her up in his arms. “You can’t go traipsing off by yourself like that, young lady. You’ve got to learn to be careful. Promise me.”

   Behind him, her brother Kevin’s eyes were imploring. If she told about the Snipe hunt, he’d be in big trouble. She nodded. “I promise.”

   Her father carried her back to the cabin but it was Josh she watched. He tromped behind them, his eyes as wide as the moon’s.

   He had always been her brother’s best friend, but that night he became more.

   He became her hero.

 

New Covers for Dark Root

So, Maggie Maddock is getting a makeover. She'll be sparkly and more witchy.

I love the designer and I can't wait to see what she comes up with. Sneak preview of Witches (book 1)