Before the book, before I even knew what the book would be about, there was …

 Tevis.

He stood framed in the doorway of my thoughts, a quiet, solemn elf who looked a lot like Illya Kuryakin … slender, blond, with
eyes the blue of glacial lakes.

Then I noticed the woman beside him –
auburn-haired, dark-eyed, just a little shorter than Tevis' five-feet-eight. “I'm Kat Morales,” she said. She flicked a smile. “We're police detectives.”

 Ah. Okay, so this would be a story about
police. But not just any police, not when one of them was an elf …

The backstory came to me fairly quickly – over the course of a few hours at most. With Tevis and Kat prodding me, filling in details, I realized that our good old familiar Earth has a … Well, call it a “counterpart,” maybe in another universe, maybe another dimension. Even after all this time, not all the details are known to me.

But anyway, this other world – the Realms of Magic – is home to elves, wizards, pixies, dragons, ogres … all the creatures of our mythologies and folklore, all the beings that we now think of as “make-believe.” It's always been there, separated from our own world by gateways – the Portals that give my series its name. From the beginning of time,
the Portals were open, and in the ancient days, the days of our human ancestors, beings from the Realms could move freely from their world to ours.

Then maybe a thousand or so years ago, wizards – who began to fear continued intermingling of humans and beings of magic – closed the gateways. So humans of later centuries forgot that myths and legends were based on real creatures.

“But in a future not too distant from your present,” Tevis told me, “the Portals have opened again. No one knows why, or how. But the inhabitants of the Realms now have access to your world again. Some of them are returning, bringing their magic with them, and humans are poorly equipped to deal with magic, especially when it is used to commit crimes. Kathryn and I,” a nod to the woman standing beside him, “are called in to investigate crimes that happen when magic is … misused.”

Then they gave me an image … the body of an ogre, recently murdered, and Kat – Tevis is one of the few people who call her “Kathryn” – watching, occasionally taking pictures while her partner examines the corpse.

That's how Shadow Path, the first book in the series, was born. Kat and Tevis have been in charge every step of the way. Initially, for example, I thought the book was going to be kind of forensics-oriented – like the CSI shows on TV, for example.

But Tevis immediately demonstrated the ability of elves – they call themselves Aalfar – to See how someone's died just by touching the corpse.

Well, it's been a useful talent.

 It's been an interesting journey so far with Tevis and Kat. Through them, I've met a host of other interesting characters – Harley, their boss with the Corpus Christi, Texas, police department; Arvandus, the wizard who has become Tevis' mentor; the banshee, Maeve, one of The Morrigan's many daughters; Gairth, Arvandus' half-lovetalker nephew …

And that's all just in the first book!

Five books in – three published, two in the works – and Tevis and Kat still have adventures that they're sharing with me.  The Portals series could go for a while yet …

 And it all started with an elf in a doorway.


How about you, if you're a writer? Do your books start with the characters, or with a story that you want to tell? Please come share.

About the photo: These are new images of Kat and Tevis, recently acquired by Studio See Publishing LLC, publisher of the Portals books.

Do all writers live in two worlds? Even when I'm not writing, I spend a lot of time in the world of my Portals books – that Earth of the not-too-distant future when gateways have opened between our human world and the Realms of Magic, home to all the beings that we've long dismissed as myth and folklore.

 Kat Morales and Tevis, the human and elf police detectives in that world, have become like best friends, people I hang out with a lot. So much so that I sometimes feel less writer than chronicler – simply writing down the stories they tell me. It's a beautiful sensation. When I'm in that zone, it's like watching a movie, seeing the events unfolding before my eyes, and I'm the transcriber hurriedly scribbling down what various characters see, smell, feel, taste …

It's a world of wonder – the world that our ancestors knew, where unicorns move silently through shadowed forests, companions to nymphs and satyrs.

  It's also a world of danger. Magic is a two-edged sword, potentially as harmful to the
spellcaster as to the spell's intended target. And not all the creatures known to our ancestors were benign. So in the world of the Portals, there are evil Wizards, beings with godlike powers and dark hearts, creatures who consider humans nothing more than lesser beings to be manipulated.

  Even nymphs and satyrs have a dark side. Even pixies …

Don't look for Tinker Bell in the world of Portals.

  But it's easy to get lost in a different world when you write fantasy or science fiction. How about those who write crime novels or romance set in our existing world? Do you
also live in two worlds, the reality around us, and the world of your books? And … Westerns. I like Westerns too, as a reader – and historical novels. Now
there would be an interesting world to live in – the past of, say, regency England or Medieval Italy.

  Or the Old West of Jesse James, Billy the Kid, Wyatt Earp …

So … As a writer, where do you spend the most time? In the everyday world, or in the world of your books? Or is it about equal between the two?

  And … for that matter … as a reader, where do you like to hang out?

I have a real treat this morning. I'm  hosting L.M. Boelz, author of one of my favorite
books – Syeribus: Creatures of the
Night. Now she's releasing Book Two in the
series: Syeribus: Into the Darkness.
I'm eager to get my hands on it!

 So … without more ado … meet L.M. Boelz. And please read my review of her first book
at the end of this interview ...

About the Author

 Lin Maree Boelz, a proud mother of two children and three grandchildren, has had a fascination with legends and stories told
around campfires since she can remember. She was always the first one to jump up and offer a chilling tale of what is really hiding in the shadows. After being asked by several people if she ever planned on writing a book; she decided to follow her passion and write down some of her stories.

Lin decided the best place to start was with one of her worst fears as a child. No matter what her parents said, she was sure there was something hiding under the bed.

The result of that question is two awesomely scary books: Syeribus: Creatures of the Night and its recent sequel in her series, Syeribus: Into the Darkness.

What authors influenced your writing the most?

Edgar Allan Poe, Stephen King, and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

What TV shows influenced you the most?

 The Twilight Zone, Outer limits and The Night Gallery.

What do you believe makes a good story?

To keep a book interesting you have to have just the right amount of plot twist. As a reader, I like to be surprised when something unexpected happens. My favorite way to end a campfire tales is to ask, “Have you ever ask yourself, what if it is not just a story?”

What genres do you write in?

Horror, thriller, suspense, mystery.

Tell us a little about your books.

 Syeribus: Creatures of the Night book 1

Ever wonder if the stories they tell while sitting around a campfire are true? Carol found herself asking that very same question after hearing a story told by a mysterious old man. She could still hear the words that he had spoken: “I am not offering this account
to merely scare you, as the others before have attempted. I am here to warn you
of the dangers that await you upon your return home.”

To combat her growing fears Carol began to weave fanciful tales to explain away the mysterious sounds she could hear in her room at night. In her stories she was always able to defeat the monsters hiding in the shadows.

As her family moved progressively across America, Carol found others also interested in creating tales of fantasy and adventure. Encouraged by this, Carol formed The Weaver of
Shadows Club. In the club It was all fun and games until unexpectedly, the tales told by other members in the club began to mirror her dreams a little too closely. When she found herself falling deeper into the darkness. Carol began questioning whether they were really dreams at all. Most of all, she was left with a haunting unanswered question: Was the troll-like creature, referred to as Syeribus by the old man, behind it all?

Syeribus: Into the Darkness

Picking up after Syeribus Book One,  Creatures of the Night, Carol must convince authorities that she no longer believes imaginary creatures have been taking everyone. Free from one nightmare, she is faced with another: finding a way into the dark, forbidden world of Syeribus in a desperate bid to save the people she loves. But first she
must find Peter, the boy she loves. Does he still have the key to unlock the mysterious gateway? Where has he been? Did they get him too? Carol struggles to keep her fears from taking over. She needs answers to questions no one should have to ask.

 Are you self-published?

Yes, I publish myself, but always make sure to use editors and beta readers to produce the highest quality that I can. I also make sure to use a quality book cover to tell a story.

What aspect of your book sets it apart from others in your genre?

I include pictures, to give the reader a visual experience. I also like to add twists and turns to add surprise and suspense. When you read Book One, you are able to place yourself in the characters' shoes, and end up asking, What if …

How long did it take you to write your books?

 Book One took ten years, and Book Two took two years.

Who are your favorite characters in the book, and why?

My favorite good guy is Carol. It is not often you read a book featuring a strong female lead. My favorite bad guy is Darius. He is a ruthless, vicious, power-hungry monster.

Have you ever killed off a character you were attached to? If so, how did you feel while you wrote the scene?

Yes, I have. It was tough, and made me cry. It was like losing a friend. I have one scene that I had to have my husband read. Each time I tried to read it, I would cry.

What's next on your agenda?

I currently have a zombie government conspiracy book in edit, and a serial stalker erotic romance work in progress.

I can't wait to read those! How do people find you online?

Here is my website, that lists all my books: http://weaverofshadows.com/index.html

My books are available at:
Amazon http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00DUFWBAO/ref%3Das_li_tf_tl?tag=draft2-20
Apple I tunes https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/id670979308
Barnes& Noble http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/syeribus-creatures-of-the-night-book-one-l-m-boelz/1115959378?ean=2940148122333&itm=1&usri=2940148122333
Kobo http://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/books/Syeribus-Creatures-Night-book-one/RYyAG0BzyEiQ_QqgwhCp-A

Book 2
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Syeribus-Into-Darkness-Book-ebook/dp/B00EBHU1VQ
Barnes and Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/syeribus-into-the-darkness-l-m-boelz/1116307779?ean=2940148654193&itm=1&usri=2940148654193 
Book 2 will be on Kobo and Apple soon.

And … Here's an excerpt from Book One, Creatures of the Night (an excerpt from Book Two isn't available, because it would contain too many spoilers for Book One):

Asil took no notice of the storm as it pelted down on her, bitterly stinging her bare arms. Her thoughts were still focused on the boy who had won the second wizard’s seat. I’m sure I’m the only one who knows the truth about why Ekim was taken to the stone house on the hill. She envied him, to some degree, for being taken to a place where, if you asked, the lights were never turned off.

Asil was sure that the tales Ekim had woven were also based on the same noises she
had tried to warn the rest of the weavers about last time. I wonder if my last warning was taken any more seriously than Ekim’s? She somehow doubted it.

Asil continued to walk mechanically away from Mot’s yard. She found herself outside
Ekim’s home. Looking at it, she wondered how she ended up here. His realm was to be given the name, ‘The Land of Ekim’ at the next regular meeting.

Asil found it difficult to see through the rain, as she stared up at the house. Her hair whipped around in the wind as if it had a life of its own. Not even when it stuck to her face, stinging a little, did she take any notice of her surroundings. Her rain-soaked clothes clung to her small frame, making it difficult to walk.

As she half turned to head for home, her eyes stung with the tears that filled them. Asil’s thoughts turned to how sad it was that they could not get anyone to heed their warnings. Instead, everyone believed that they were just stories made up to scare them. No one thought it was anything more than the weaving of tales.

Asil attempted, in vain, to wipe her face, only to have it soaked by more tears and rain. She paused for a moment, taking one last look at The Land of Ekim.

Softly whispering, “If they only knew… Goodbye, old friend,” Asil reflected, as if she
somehow knew that she would never see him again.

Asil dropped her eyes to the ground and started for home. Lost in thought and not
paying any attention to where she was walking, she almost tripped over a long stick that had broken off a nearby tree.

She looked over her shoulder at the stick as she regained her stride. The idea of picking it up was quickly replaced by a numb hollowness that filled her mind. Before she could give it any more thought, Asil braced herself as a gust of wind swept the stick away, tossing it end over end down the street.

Asil could not help thinking how much she felt like that helpless stick while it
disappeared from sight.

Placing one foot in front of the other, Asil pressed homeward, attempting, to no avail,
to replace her fears of the noises in her room at night with other thoughts, any other thoughts. No matter how hard she tried to keep the images of the creature and the horrid nightmarish sounds out of her mind, they crept back in, tormenting her relentlessly. She could not stop thinking about how similar, yet different, Ekim’s tale was to her own. They were warnings, but she was sure they had been received as weaver’s tales and no more.

How absurd and made-up the tales started to sound after going over them several times. How she wished that it was as pretend as it sounded. Still, in the back of her mind, after listening to noises during the deep darkness of the night and finding the next day that more things had been moved from their proper places and stacked up near the edge of her bed, she knew that something was wrong. Each night, she was that much more convinced that the troll-like creatures were all too real.

Not even with the wind picking up did Asil notice that she was getting soaked to the bone. Finally her realm came into view as she rounded the last corner. She thought about its new title, The Land of Asil. What she would not do to have it be a real kingdom, with an army she could call upon to protect all who lived there. Her thoughts returned to how lucky she thought the other wizard was, to be away from the anguish that she knew she was to endure again tonight.

With a change in the wind direction and intensity, the large soft raindrops were replaced with smaller drops, which smartly stung her face and skin like a thousand tiny needles. The bitter cold that came with the storm cut through her soaked clothes, jolting her back from her dream state. Her body shook and trembled violently.

Asil wondered how much of the shaking was from the fear and how much from the bitter
cold, as the wind and rain pierced deep down inside her with its icy fingers.

A bright flash of lightning startled Asil, who, until now, had not realized how dark it had become. With a knot of fear tightening in the pit of her stomach, her breath became short and rapid as she began to run for the safety of her realm. Her small legs felt heavy and unresponsive, as if she were running through thick, sticky mud.

Asil could hear her front gate that had blown open with the last gust of wind as it
battered against the fence post, echoing into the darkness. As she stumbled up the street, the banging gate seemed to cry out a warning for her not to enter.

Her mind racing, she glanced behind her to see if the creature might have ventured
outside and was pursuing her.

The extra distress this caused felt like it was about to choke the very breath from
her. Blinded by the rain and terror ripping at her fragile soul, Asil strained to focus on the blurry light beckoning her from the front porch.

The open gate was almost within reach, when suddenly, the sidewalk leapt up to meet
her! Her shoe had become untied and decided to stay behind.

Asil hit the ground hard, her body slammed to the rain-soaked gravel path leading
from the sidewalk to the front gate.

She could feel the searing pain as the gravel ripped across her legs and bare arms,
causing her to cry out. Her screams mixed with the tormenting howl of the storm, as if the storm itself were there to aid the hideous creature.

No one came to her rescue.


 And … my review of Book One, Syeribus: Creatures of the Night (book
2 wasn't yet available).

A Terrifying Trip Into 'What If'

Is there any child who isn't, at some point, afraid of the dark? Who doesn't, at some time, harbor a terror of the Things that lurk in the closet or hide under the bed?

Eventually, most of us grow out of those night-terrors. We laugh at our fears, peer under our beds at … nothing more frightening than dust-bunnies or, at worst, boxes of accumulated possessions that we have nowhere else to store.

But …

What if our fears have basis in reality? What if there are indeed creatures that lurk under our beds, waiting for that moment when the lights go out and we are helplessly locked in sleep …

Welcome to the world of Syeribus, Creatures of the Night!

L.M. Boelz does a wonderful job of building on the fear that lurks in our subconscious – the fear that – when we are at our most vulnerable – we are not alone.

She also provides some beautifully on-target descriptions, and I love authors who can weave spells with their words.

 Without giving away the plot, the story is about a group of children who discover that the “bogieman” indeed exists.

Let me add, in my opinion, this isn't a book for children! It is a book for those who love tales of terror, tales of the supernatural – a book for people who enjoy a story that will leave you with shivers along your spine, and that doesn't involve (so far as I can tell)
vampires or werewolves!

I would add … This isn't a book to be read after the sun goes down.

 Two caveats: First, the story builds slowly, so don't expect to be immersed immediately in the night-terror. Boelz does, however, have a definite talent for building tension. The book, for me, was a page-turner.

Second, the ending is a cliff-hanger. If you want to know what's going to happen next – You have to get the next book in the series. Which I  intend to do as soon as I can.

There are two approaches to writing. It can be a job, a career – or it can be a hobby, like a weekend painter. There's nothing
wrong with either approach, but ...

  If you want to have a writing career, if
you want to be a professional writer, you have to approach it as a … well, as a
professional.

  The Greeks believed creative people – writers, musicians, sculptors and painters – were inspired by goddesses, the Muses. It's a beautiful conception, but I think maybe we've misinterpreted the meaning. Maybe what the Greeks meant was that the Muses touch people at some point in their lives, fill them with the desire to create music, or paint, or
write.

  Beyond that, though, if you're going to create anything on a steady basis – be a professional, in other words – you have to work at it.

  I've actually heard beginning writers say, “I didn't do any writing today. My muse didn't show up.”

Let me tell you … Picasso didn't sit around waiting on a muse. Neither did Rembrandt or Van Gogh, or Wagner or Ernest Hemingway. I have indeed wangled my way into a couple of art shows by arguing that writing novels is a form of art, but writing – writing as a professional – is as much (maybe more) about craft as it is art.

  Early on, I used to consciously think about what I do – what I am – in terms of “wordsmithing” rather than “writing,” a little reminder that, rather than sitting around waiting to be “inspired,” I had to actively seek inspiration.

  The professional writer writes every single day. Yes, there have been days, especially early in my career, when I really don't feel inspired, when I produce what – on later inspection – is trash. But writing isn't about turning out masterpieces on a daily basis. Writing is about practice. Writing is about forming habits.

  Writing is about showing up and putting in an honest day's labor. It's what an employer expects of you – what, hopefully, we expect of ourselves – on any other “nine-to-five” job. And speaking of those other jobs – yes, it's harder to work on that novel or non-fiction opus when you're putting in a 40-hour work week elsewhere. I've “been there, done that” myself.

  But if your end-goal is to become the professional writer you dream of being, you can find the time. Before you go to work, after you get home, on your lunch break ...

  Writing is a continual process of learning. There is lots of “how-to” advice out there about writing, much of it online. Entire books have been written on everything from writing books or magazine articles in general to specific “how-tos”: how to craft nonfiction, or romance novels, or Westerns, SF or fantasy books. You can also learn a lot just by reading – not only your favorite authors but those you don't like because …
well … they're awful. Bad writing offers its own lessons.

  If you're lucky enough to be able to enroll in a writer's class or two – or join a writer's group – do it.

  But the best way to learn how to write is to just sit down and ... write. Take what you've gleaned from books and how-to articles, and put it to use. Even if you can only squeeze out five or ten minutes a day initially – do it.

How do you inspire yourself as a writer? What tips can you offer from your own experience? Please share ...

About the photo above ... It's my basset hound, Buster, engaged in his favorite activity ...

Report from the University of Altare 7 Survey Team  on expedition to Sol 3 (formerly known as Earth):

As you know, we are still exploring the dig
established in the city called New York in the North American Sector of the Pangaean Supercontinent. In our last report, we noted discovery of many references to a “Big Apple,” and speculated this might be an agricultural deity of importance here.

Now we have made new discoveries that give us further insight into the religious beliefs of the ancient New Yorkans, as we have decided to call them. Indeed, findings within the recent week may completely rewrite everything we thought we knew about the indigenous peoples of this area.

We have discovered backyard shrines and indications that  these people made burnt offerings to their deities.

This latest discovery was made in one of the residential areas that surround New York proper. It appears likely, although not yet certain, that the city was devoted primarily to enterprise, with few or no inhabitants, with workers living around its edges. What we have discovered is a number of what seem to be altars in the backyards that we have uncovered. Most of these, as may be imagined, are greatly deteriorated. However, enough remains intact that we may make reasonable deductions regarding their use.

The altars themselves range from elaborate, permanent constructions of stone or metal to small metal portable objects that would have been supported on a tripodal arrangement of legs. We have not yet ascertained whether the larger altars were constructed by wealthier individuals or, perhaps, were devoted to more important deities. The portable units could have been moved to different locations, so may have been dedicated to deities shared by the community as a whole. Perhaps they were moved from one site to another on a particular deity's feast day. Remnants of charcoal and
organic deposits within some of the altars indicate they were used to sacrifice animals, probably something akin to the “burnt offerings” referenced in surviving copies of bibles and other religious texts we have found.

We have also found ancient tools that apparently were used in conjunction with these altars. Most of course are badly deteriorated, but some are sufficiently intact as to allow more or less accurate interpretation of their uses. In particular, we have found knives – to be expected, since the sacrificial animals would have been brought to the altar while still alive – as well as long-handled instruments, closely resembling two-pronged forks. These latter may have been used to stab smaller sacrificial animals, which would indicate that small animals as well as large were sacrificed to whatever gods the indigenous peoples worshiped.

We have also found, curiously, long-handled pieces of flattened metals, something akin to primitive spatulas. Professor Havershaw believes these might have been employed in some kind of “spanking” ritual either before or immediately after the sacrifice, which would indicate some sort of “erotic” component to the sacrifice. However, Professor Watson-Smythe disagrees, since no other indications of a sado-sexual component exists. She believes the spatulate tools may have been nothing more than a means of tenderizing the meat of the smaller sacrificial creatures. Further exploration of the sites so far uncovered may solve the mystery.

We continue to explore New York, but we have also sent some of our team for pre-exploration of a site farther west, a place referred to as “Los Angeles.” We're told the translation of the name is “The Angels,” which may reference either the same or a competing religion to the one we have found in New York. We will of course continue to update you on our progress.