Enter your email address:

Delivered by FeedBurner

 Subscribe in a reader

Earned a starred review and named as Library Journal's SF/F Debut of the Month

Download an excerpt

Bull Spec Issue 6

Bull Spec calls Miserere "a stunning, vivid foray into a complicated, but decipherable, world. And Teresa Frohock successfully plants a foothold in the speculative market as an author to watch." --J.P. Wickwire

  

Search
dark thoughts Tumblr
Networked Blogs
Friday
Jan272012

a short update and a ballad

I've been quiet here lately. I've been busy; life gets that way sometimes.

The Garden is almost grown--a couple of chapters more and a weeding, then we're done.

Things I miss tonight: my husband beside me, my daughter telling me about her day, and yes, the cat poking me.

Things I have tonight: beautiful friends who show their love in both word and deed.

I'm in New York City now, listening to the wind roar outside my room. The sound of the wind on a stormy night always brings to mind a ballad I read in a book on vampires many years ago. I don't recall the title of the book, and the ballad was one of those anonymous ballads that has been reprinted dozens of times in various books.

When I hear the wind and see a smattering of rain, the first lines of "The Unquiet Grave" always pop into my mind. It goes like this: 

I

‘THE WIND doth blow today, my love,

And a few small drops of rain;

I had ere but one true-love;

In cold grave she was lain.

II

‘I’ll do as much for my true-love

As any young man may;

I’ll sit and mourn all at her grave

For a twelvemonth and a day.’

III

The twelvemonth and a day being up,

The dead began to speak:

‘Oh who sits weeping on my grave,

And will not let me sleep?’—

IV

‘’Tis I, my love, sits on your grave,

And will not let you sleep;

For I crave one kiss of your clay-cold lips,

And that is all I seek.’—

V

‘You crave one kiss of my clay-cold lips;

But my breath smells earthy strong;

If you have one kiss of my clay-cold lips,

Your time will not be long.

VI

‘’Tis down in yonder garden green,

Love, where we used to walk,

The finest flower that ere was seen

Is wither’d to a stalk.

VII

‘The stalk is wither’d dry, my love,

So will our hearts decay;

So make yourself content, my love,

Till God calls you away.’

Thursday
Jan192012

Research for Miserere--a bibliography

Several people have asked on different occasions about the research materials that I used for Miserere. If you're interested, you can find these resources under the Research tab at the top of the page. I left journal articles off the list, because they can be difficult to locate; however, most, if not all, of these books are still in print.

Just click Research if you want to see the list.

Tuesday
Jan172012

Join me on Twitter for SFF Writer Chat #sffwrtcht

Bryan Thomas Schmidt, author of The Worker Prince, runs the excellent SFF Writer Chat on Twitter (use the hashtag #sffwrtcht or follow @sffwrtcht).

On Wednesday, January 18, 2012 at 9:00 p.m. EST, I'll be the guest author for #sffwrtcht.

I've often popped in to follow the #sffwrtcht hashtag on Twitter. It's a very friendly place to hang out, so if you have time, stop in and say hi or just lurk. We'll be glad to have you!

We will be talking about fantasy, science fiction, and writing. If you have a question about Miserere, bring it along and I'll do my best to answer in 140 characters. I look forward to seeing you there!

Monday
Jan162012

i can't hear myself when your voice is in my head

I've got a to-read stack that is twelve books deep right now. They're all excellent novels by wonderful writers, but I've got to set them aside for a little while. I'm in the last three (maybe four, depending on length) chapters of The Garden. This weekend, I hit the point where the story and plot came together, and it's working beautifully for me.

For the next couple of weeks, I'll immerse myself in this particular story to cultivate the voice of the characters, the overall tone of the book. I don't know if other writers do this or not, but when I reach this stage, I can't read someone else's work or that author's voice sticks in my head. Then I find myself mimicking another writer, almost like picking up an accent when talking to someone from another area of the country or world. I can take the time to work around it in the early stages of my novels but not when I'm working on the final chapters or the final edit.

What about you? How conscious are you of an author's voice while reading a novel? Can the voice or tone of a novel be the making or breaking point for you? If you're an author, do you reach a point in your novel where you cannot read other people's works while working?

Saturday
Jan142012

The Ranting Dragon reviews Miserere