Blood Book Blog Tour Stop

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Today I am excited to join the blog tour for Blood, the sixth book in Tara Maya’s The Unfinished Song series. You can buy Blood and all her other books via Amazon and other ebook retailers. You can keep up with Tara and her writing via her blog / Twitter / Facebook 

5 Signs You Might Be a Writer by Tara Maya

1. You read. A LOT.
You read constantly, or at least did at one point in your life. Some of us had more time to read (for pleasure) when we are kids, but are swamped with work now. For others, literature seemed boring when we were younger, but now has appeal. In my case, I devoured science fiction and fantasy when I was younger, but while I was in grad school most of my reading was non-fiction. Once I graduated, I had time for fiction again. I do still read non-fiction for pleasure and for research.

2. You have been coming up with stories since you were a kid.
You have way more story ideas than you could ever write down. When did you write your first “story”? Okay, maybe it wasn’t much of a story, but when did you start trying? In my case, I made little pretend “books” out of folded paper and scribbles before I could write my ABCs. I wrote my first four complete and illustrated stories in fifth grade and completed my first novel in Jr. High. Granted, they all sucked rocks. But I know I am not unusual in starting out young. Most writers I know began writing early. This doesn’t necessarily mean that they published early, or that those around them recognized their efforts.

3. You have a bunch of manuscripts under your bed.
It’s one thing to write stories in your head. That makes you a storyteller. But not yet a writer. If you’ve actually written down your words, that’s what makes you a writer. Not getting published. Writing is what makes a writer. Getting published, and more to the point, selling copies, is what makes you a paid writer, a professional writer, a writer who can actually eat something other than ramen noodles, and that’s a good thing. But you’ve already started writing without any idea whether you can sell those words or not.

4. You write for love, not for money.
Let’s face it. You know that being a writer is not as lucrative as other jobs, like doctor, lawyer or fast food employee. Screw that. You’re writing anyway. Cruel reality may force you into a day job. It happens. You write anyway. You’re jotting down ideas for your novel between flipping burgers or taking notes on your character in your office cubicle. You care enough to constantly hone your craft. You would write even if your plane crashed on a deserted island. Even if you were locked in a prison on Gamma Beta IV. Even if you had to become an accountant.

5. You write for money, not love.
Nah, this doesn’t really contradict what I just said. It only seems to. Because if you really love writing–or any art–enough, you’ll realize that the only way anyone will let you do it full time is if you can get good enough to earn mullah at the same time. Yeah. By selling your writing. So even though it feels like jabbing steak knives into your eyes, you send out queries, you send out review requests, you–ugh, self-promote. You sell your sweat and tears as if it were vacuum cleaner parts. And on days when the sky is grey and your nose is runny, you feel sorry for yourself because it turns out that writing is a job, and all jobs have moments that suck. The rest of the time, you appreciate–I sure hope you appreciate because otherwise why do this?–that you have the best damn job in the world.

**~~**

WELCOME TO FAEARTH…where humans are trapped between the immortal fae and the minions of Death. But one woman and the warrior who loves her will defy every taboo to protect their people.

This is the sixth book in The Unfinished Song epic fantasy series. Haven’t read the other books yet? Come taste the world of Faearth… The first book is available right now for FREE. 

The Unfinished Song (Book 1): Initiate      Amazon

The Unfinished Song (Book 2): Taboo       Amazon

The Unfinished Song (Book 3): Sacrifice         Amazon

The Unfinished Song (Book 4): Root    Amazon

The Unfinished Song (Book 5): Wing   Amazon

blood_225Blood by Tara Maya

The Unfinished Song Series, Book Six

Buy links:

Kobo: http://www.kobobooks.com/ebook/TheUnfinishedSongBookBlood/booklwCT1SvJbEGUgiPPJBfYhA/page1.html?s=yBS04KtjQkOClMkn4wAEpQ&r=1
Smashwords: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/285376

Dindi and Umbral have an uneasy truce, forced to work together to defeat a greater enemy: the Bone Whistler. The Bone Whistler’s scheme to sacrifice humanity and resurrect the Aelfae will culminate during an eclipse on the spring equinox…in three days.

Their fragile alliance may not withstand the terrors they face. Dindi hides as a clown, but even disguised, her dancing draws the eye of the Bone Whistler himself. She will have to defy him alone, for Umbral has  his own troubles.

Finnadro, who has hunted Umbral for a year, finally catches up with him… determined to punish Umbral for all his black deeds.

Life and death, spring and autumn, human and faery, are all reeling out of balance, and the next three days will determine the fate of all Faearth.

Teaser Excerpt:

Dindi landed hard, though a cushion of dry pine needles saved her from broken bones. Through a ring of lofty sequoia, she could see a glimpse of bright blue. She bit through the honeycomb Kavio had given her to protect her teeth. For a moment, she sucked the sweet wax, but its shape had been ruined by Kavio’s last blow, and she had to spit it out. She rubbed her jaw as she rebounded to her feet. Her shins were scraped bloody, and her left elbow throbbed. Ever since Kavio had started training her in Red, war dancing, she had been collecting bruises at an alarming rate.

The two of them were alone in the woods—unless one counted the sylphins perched in tree branches or the pixies cuddled in crocus buds, who watched and giggled—since their practices must be secret.

“Pathetic, Dindi,” Kavio scoffed. “You’re fighting like a girl.”

“What does that even mean?” she demanded. “Or is it just something boys say to feel superior to girls?”

“It means you don’t take yourself or your opponent seriously.”

“I take myself seriously…”

“No you don’t. You think of yourself the way a girl is reared to think of herself. Like a pretty pony in a field of flowers, a cuddly bunny rabbit, a doe frolicking in the woods. Like you need to play nice, nuzzle up to the rest of the herd. You need to think like a carnivore. Don’t nibble at me. Eat meat. You have to win your Shining Name. You have to think like a hero. Stop trying to be nice.”

“Heroes are nice…”

“Heroes are good; they aren’t nice. Why are you standing there? Strike again!”

She waved her staff in his direction, not connecting with anything but air.

“Muck it all, Dindi, you did it again.” He smacked her hard with the stave, knocking her to the ground. “Stop treating me with disrespect! That’s your second problem. You don’t respect your enemy!”

“I do!”

“Who is your enemy?”

“Right now, I’m fighting you, but…”

“Who is your enemy?”

“The person I’m fighting!”

“Wrong!” Kavio cut down with his staff.

“You can’t talk things out.”

Slash.

“You can’t make nice.”

Slash.

“You can’t compromise.”

Slash.

“You never fight a person.”

Slash.

“You fight a monster.”

Slash.

“And if you’re going to win, you better be the bigger monster.”

He was beating her back relentlessly. She kept ducking and backing away, but it was getting harder to dodge.

“Stop.” Slash. “Holding.” Slash. “Your blows!”

She smacked her staff forward, and the end of the pole slammed into Kavio’s solar plexus. He flew across the dirt clearing and landed on his back.

He didn’t move.

“Kavio!” she screamed, running to him.

He sat up, wincing. “That,” he said, “Showed respect. Do it again. And again. Until it’s instinct: always kill the monster.”

 About the Author:

Tara Maya has lived in Africa, Europe and Asia. She’s pounded sorghum with mortar and pestle in a little clay village where the jungle meets the desert, meditated in a Buddhist monastery in the

Himalayas and sailed the Volga River to a secret city that was once the heart of the Soviet space program. This first-hand experience, as well as research into the strange and piquant histories of lost civilizations, inspires her writing. Her terrible housekeeping, however, is entirely the fault of pixies.

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