Tranquility’s Blaze is out!

Some things are more important than love, family, and even honor. Like duty.

Pick up a copy of TRANQUILITY’S BLAZE today and follow Lady Champion Bethany as she makes the hardest decision of her life: killing her own sister.

Available on Amazon today! Don’t have a Kindle but don’t want to wait for the other distributors to list it? Pick it up on Amazon and email me the receipt at kristadball@gmail.com. I’ll happily send you whatever format you’d like!

Do not talk down to me, asshole

WARNING: RANT AHEAD

I tend to stay out of the privilege discussions that happen about the interwebz. There is a lot more to privilege than just race and gender, so I just let other folks argue that stuff out. However, I cannot deny that some men seem to not know how to have a disagreement with a female without:

1. Ignoring her, and only paying attention to the menfolk in the discussion
2. Tell her to move along
3. Tell her to stop being offended and to get a sense of humour
4. Make a disparaging comment about feminism
5. A smilie face added to the end of a sexist comment makes it all better

I’ve had a couple of these discussions of late and I’m really, really sick of it. One was some guy bringing up stereotypes about women and book covers (i.e. “females don’t read science fiction, so why bother putting stuff on them that women like”, “women don’t like violence images on their covers”, or “women don’t like abstract images”) and then asked the womenfolk for opinions on cover images to appeal to them. You can imagine how quickly that discussion devolved from the gate.

Instead of dealing with the women who were the target of the discussion, their opinions were ignored or easily dismissed (“well, YOU are just one woman. Lots of others agree with what I’ve said” — even though no others did). Then, the only discussion that happened was with a man.  When I and some other women called the guy on this, he continued to dismiss every single point we made.

Now, let’s be clear: this was a discussion about how to appeal to women. Yet, who was he listening to? Another man.

So, then another one comes up. This time, the typical fully dressed male with a barely dressed female fantasy cover. You know the type, where she has a bullet-proof bra, her back arched painfully, and staring up at a man. This ain’t a fucking alpha-male romance cover I’m talking about, either. I’m talking about dark fantasy, where everyone’s bad ass. Yeah, cause nothing says bad ass in battle like a chain mail bikini and an exposure midsection.

I gave my opinion. I admit I was a little snarkier about it, but I was annoyed at how the author dismissed the comments about the cover (note: the author chose the cover because this was self-published). Instead, I was called an angry woman. Of course, that’s ok because a smiley face was used. So I expressed again my issues with the cover, and also that I was being dismissed because I’d expressed an opinion that he didn’t want to hear.

Normally, when humour is misunderstood or not conveyed properly online, folks apologize or clarify. I see women do that to both genders, and men do that to men. However, sadly, many men do not extend the compliment to women (guys who do: you rock and I love you…keep it up!).  And, like in other cases lately, the same thing happened. I was told to move along, and stop trolling because I’d expressed an opinion contrary to the man’s.

So, guys? Want to know how to piss me off? Ask my opinion, ask me to clarify my opinion, and then call me names and tell me to go elsewhere because mine isn’t like yours.

I’d like to pretend these are isolated cases, but they are not. These represent a significant portion of the conversations I have with men. I’m getting to the stage where I don’t quietly walk away, feeling like an insignificant twelve year old girl surrounded by grown men. I outgrew that, sometime around when I was twelve years old.

Guys? When you see your fellow dudes doing shit like this, call them on it. It’s sexist. It’s offensive. It’s demeaning.

And to answer a reader’s question (who saw a couple of these exchanges lately):

Do you get a lot of this dismissive woman crap in your author life?

The answer is yes, though I’m pleased to say that it’s not the majority. Readers do not speak to me like it. Other male authors have and often. Road to Hell and Tranquility’s Blaze in particular caused me endless grief with male writers. (Not established or trad published authors. I generally only had the issue with low-selling self-published or unpublished authors…read into that what you will).

However, I will continue to ask for realistic covers for fantasy authors like myself and J.R. Tomlin, who has joined me in complaining that it’s nigh impossible to find accurate and non-sexualized images of women with swords (in fact, I’ve partnered with my LARP group to come up with stock art images for fantasy authors).

I will continue to work with publishers like Mundania Press, who give me covers like below and not chain mail bikinis:

And I will continue to speak up and tell people when they are being sexist, dismissive, and inhumane. And I won’t fucking just shut up and go elsewhere.

Deal with it.

What in my mailbox?

If you follow me on Twitter (and if you don’t, shame!), you’ll know that I’m going to Mexico next month. It’s my first beach vacation and I’m just tickled about the trip. But, since I plan to do little more than read a lot while I’m there, I’ve been stocking up on reading material. But, like any avid reader, I can’t actually wait so I’ve been diving in now!

But this is what I’ve picked up (in theory) to read on the trip (which might get read sooner):

First, I picked up a set of Kelly Lougheed books. Her titles always make me laugh. I keep seeing them pop up, so decided it was time to pick them up:

Then I picked up a few audiobooks:

Fanny Hill – I’ve always wanted to read that book, but the narrative language of the early 1700s always puts me off. But, since I’ve been really into early to mid 18th century prostitution (everyone has a hobby), I’ve decided it was high time to read the book. So got myself the ebook and will listen as I go to help me stay on track.

At Home – I love histories about how people live, so I’ve been looking forward to listening to At Home: A Short History of Private Life

Radio 4′s A History of Private Life – I love Amanda Vickery and had spent a goodly portion of my life wanting to grow up and be like her. She could do a history about the phone book and I would buy it.

~~~

I’m heading to Mexico next month on my first big trip. We have full 5 star hotel, a grand suite, everything. I wanted to be spoiled. I wanted to be embarrassed by the size of my room. I wanted to be embarrassed that we are at a full inclusive and have a fully stocked fridge in my room. That’s want I wanted and told the travel agent that I wanted to go somewhere that would make me forget I had to make any decisions in my life. She said this was the place and package to get. I’ll report back

~~~

For some news, I just signed the contract for Tranquility’s Blaze to be turned into an audiobook. Needless to say, I’m very excited about that! Blaze also comes out next week. It’s just around the corner! It was the first novel that I completed as an adult, so I’m just thrilled to see Bethany’s struggles to be available for everyone to read.

Collaborator: Chapter 3b

New? You can find the Prologue timeline here!  For details about the serial, including how to become a bad guy, click here!

“Then what happened?”

“We got our drinks and sat down.” She crossed her arms across her torso self-consciously; he was staring at her breasts instead of her face. That got his attention and he looked up with a barely-concealed scowl. “Then, those six stopped, took their overalls off and jumped.”

Rebecca took a deep breath to calm herself before she puked again. She did not want to think about the blood. How it sprayed into the air. Heads popping off torsos, spewing blood like a ripe zit.

“Miss St. Marten?”

Rebecca clamped her eyes shut and pictured fields of wildflowers, the bright yellows and blues swaying in the prairie breeze. She gagged, but nothing came up. She’d not eaten in hours and had lost everything but stomach bile, and a good bit of that had come up, too.

She opened her eyes to see Captain Babiak grabbing his trash can and placed it next to her with an uncomfortable smile. Compassion didn’t seem like it came naturally to him.

“Feeling sick?”

A nasty remark flashed across her mind, but she bit it back. Instead, she offered him an uneasy smile and said, “It’s been a rough day. I just want to get some sleep.”

“You think you will be able to sleep after today? Just like that?”

Rebecca frowned at that. His words have a heavy meaning to them, as if she was somehow responsible for the deaths. She had nothing to do with the terrorists jumping. She’d just need some downers from the med techs and she’s be asleep before the sheep even starting jumping the fence.

Understanding dawned on her and bile threatened to burn its way back up. He didn’t trust her. If he didn’t, how many others also mistrusted her?

“I’ll have Lieutenant Hendzel forwarded the necessary forms for you to authorize and verify in the morning.” He eyed her. “Why not take a couple days off? Who is your immediate director? Corporal Xe? Or Demaswuititi? I’ll talk to them and arrange time off.”

“Well, actually,” Rebecca said, forcing the words out, “I was considering a pass to go down to Jupiter…”

Captain Babiak’s expression darkened. It was only a flash, but enough for her to know she’d already overstepped. Why couldn’t Zain had just kept his mouth shut and not even have put the idea in her head to begin with?

“I don’t think that would be a good option, for the current time,” Babiak said, his neutral tone not matching the glare in his eyes. “Today’s unfortunate events will, unfortunately, make things difficult for you to travel for some time. You aren’t a registered citizen and an important witness to a crime. It would be wise to let the storm pass.”

She nodded, her guts still churning. “Of course. I’m in no rush to see Jupiter.”

Babiak glared at her for a moment longer. Then a smile stretched across his face, a smile that did not touch his eyes, and he said, “Thank you, Miss St. Marten for your time.”

Rebecca stood and inclined her head at him. With that, Rebecca left the office, hurrying as far away from security as she possibly could and to the safety of her own quarters.

Quarters. Would she ever have a home again?

News! Updates! Gossip!

Whew! It’s been a busy couple of months for me. I still have a couple more busy ones ahead of me, but I’m starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

So the big stuff:

Tranquility’s Blaze releases April 17th. I’m speechless. Just speechless. I wrote the book a long time ago. It’s been through a million revisions over the years, but finally I’m going to see it in print. I’m beside myself excited to share the adventures of Bethany and the Silver Knights with the world!

I’ll be putting up the first three chapters over the next two weeks. To get a sneak peak, here is chapter one!!

~~

I’m very happy at the reception Collaborator has received from all of you. Don’t you just love the new cover for it! I’m in love.

~~

Road to Hell is now in audiobook format. You can listen to the first chapter here and pick it up direct from the publishers DRM-free for only $6.99!  It isn’t available on Audible and iTunes yet (it usually takes Audible a couple months to publish, so we’re looking at May sometime). But, you won’t find it cheaper than the publisher’s website anyway!

~~

I have an outline for Dark Whispers, book two of the Spirit Callers series. It unfortunately is not going to have a June release. I’ve had to push back some of my releases because I frankly needed a break. Researching for What Kings Ate has been very intense. And unfortunately, I lost a goodly portion of the ending of Tranquility’s Grief which needed to be rewritten. That took a lot out of me in terms of mental head space. It’s put me a 3 months behind schedule, so everything’s needed to shift a little.

I know that many of you are waiting to see what happens next for Rachel and if she and Jeremy end up together or if she kicks him to the curb. I can only say that it’s #3 on the schedule – after T-Grief, and What Kings Ate. So hold on, folks. I promise it’s coming.

Collaborator: Chapter 3a

CHAPTER 3a

New? You can find the Prologue timeline here!  For details about the serial, including how to become a bad guy, click here!

Alone, Rebecca sat inside the security office on an uncomfortable metal chair and waited for her name to be called. Zain had already given his statement and he’d stayed as long as he could – he was like that – but he had to eventually leave for his shift in the shuttle bay.

“Saunt Marton Ree-bacca” a computerized voice said over the speaker, “please report to the desk.”

Rebecca pushed herself up from her chair in the empty row of seats along the wall. She approached the bullet, energy, bomb, and blast-proof screen. Dread filled her, but she dismissed it as being weary, hungry, cramped from sitting for several hours, and having seen the severed heads…

Rebecca closed her eyes and gulped down the wave of nausea that filled her. She focused on images of flowers, work, and water polo. Anything to rid her mind of the images, she knew, would fill her dreams for months to come.

Behind the glass sat a tired-looking gristle of a man, coffee stains on the front of his beige uniform. “Saunt Marton Ree-bacca?” His voice came out modulated and she realized that he spoke like a computerized voice because he spoke through a modulator and not through his own mouth. Another person “allergic” to the implants, she noted, though he’d been given an artificial voice box to translate for him. She couldn’t even do that. Her body seemed to hate technology.

He dumped an ID card in a slot, which he tapped and a light blinked blue in front of her. Blue means go. She opened the drawer, took out the ID card, and slipped her wrist into the armband.

“Captain Babiak will see you now,” he said, gesturing to his left. “Through the doors, first on your right. Do not wander. If you get lost, return to this desk.”

Rebecca nodded and approached the door. Scanners blinked and whizzed, detecting no weapons, and buzzed her through. She pushed on the metal security door, noting that it was the same material as the desk clerk’s barrier, and knocked on Captain Babiak’s door.

“Come in, Miss St. Marten,” he called out.

She opened the door and walked in. Ro Babiak was a spare man, and he always took her as the kind of man who would be best at crunching numbers in a dark office as opposed to being a military leader running an internment camp. Looks are deceiving, as “they” apparently say on every planet.

She’d met him before, when she’s first been sent to Bubble City. He’d put the fear of God in her, with his piercing stare and somber tone as he explained in no uncertain terms that he’d execute her if she stepped out of line. And she believed him, then and now.

“Please, have a seat,” he said, gesturing to the functional, but comfortable-looking chairs in one corner of his spacious office. His office, in fact, was larger than her entire quarters. Not a surprise. He was a Captain. She was nobody.

No, she was worth less than a nobody.

“How are you doing?” Babiak asked, getting up from his desk to take a seat across from her.

“Fine, sir.” When it looked like he’d wanted more of an answering, Rebecca gulped back the lump of fear forming in her throat and added, “It’s been a long day.”

“Of that I am confident,” he replied. There was something in his voice that put Rebecca’s nerves on edge. Suspicion? Hesitation? “To meet with camp rules, this conversation is part of the official investigation into the deaths of the jumpers and is being recorded.”

Rebecca nodded and focused on controlling her breathing and not rubbing her damp palms against her overalls. Recorded conversations meant a lot more here in Corp space than they did back on Earth. Earth meant recorded – audio, visual. Here, it meant biometric signatures. She didn’t have the proper implants, but the systems could still scan her, could still invade her body’s most privacy responses.

Her heart thudded harder.

“Why were you on the top level? It’s far from where you work and your quarters on delta block.”

A pang of nostalgia pricked her heart. It was rare that a word from Earth stood out in the translation implant, but old latin words often did. Many Corp people spoke a dialect of Latin, in the way that English is a dialect of Latin. It was a reminder of where she’d come from to recognize a word.

She hated it.

“I was up there with Zain Xe –”

“Your boyfriend?”

She shook her head. God only knew what Zain had called her. “Friends. He likes the Brisbin on the third level. He says the vendor up there makes it stronger than the ones on the lower levels.”

Babiak nodded, though the disbelieving look in his eyes made her palms sweat. He didn’t believe her. She did not want to go back to the workhouses, slaving away until her loyalty was without question. She’d changed who she was, learned to bit her tongue, closed herself off for the chance to actually live.

She didn’t want her small taste of freedom taken away from her.

Want to see more? Chapter 3′s ending here!