Saturday, June 16, 2012

MaryJanice Davidson Guest Post! Undead and Unstable!

MaryJanice Davidson 
Guest Post!

My first thought when I took another peek at RexRobotReviews was, What are the odds that there are two Minnesotan authors promoting their book about anti-Disney, “this-isn’t-your-mother’s-mermaid-book” at the same site?

Reason number 621 why I love this business. Because, again, the odds? So how great is it when something like that happens? The same reporter called both of us when she was researching LIES BENEATH for the St. Paul Pioneer Press, and while the article was primarily about Anne Greenwood Brown, I managed to muscle a plug for my books at the tail end. (Get it? Tail end? Because we both write mermaids? Yeah, I know: pretty annoying.) Because that’s how ruthless I am when reporters call me to talk about someone else’s book: me, me, ME, DAMMIT!

Thus, since I shoved my way into Anne’s PR for LIES BENEATH, I’m yanking her along on mine, this time for UNDEAD AND UNSTABLE. See? The karmic scales are balanced.

Anyhoo, UNDEAD AND UNSTABLE is the book that answers all the questions raised in UNFINISHED and UNDERMINED. Well, most of them. The biggie questions (“Wha—how could she—no! No no no no! Fix it, MJ!” “Yes, okay, I will. Put down the knife.”), for sure.

I’ve posted an excerpt below, and I hope you like it. If you don’t, you’re only out a few minutes of your life. Although by that definition, a root canal isn’t a big deal, either. Hmm. Better rephrase...


All sheds smell the same. Even though I hadn’t been in all sheds, I had confidence making that claim. Dirt and paint, and grass cuttings and mouse poop. Once out in the getting-deep-in-a-hurry twilight typical of late fall in Minnesota, I circled around to the backyard and into the shed, then set my bag o’ cat on the dirt floor to begin poking around.

The shed was as creaky and old as the mansion, which had been built in 1860 or 1720 or 1410 or something like that. And I figured the last time the shed had been cleaned was while Lincoln was still walking around on the planet.

Also, like all sheds, it was magical in that once you got inside the thing, it seemed much much bigger. It’s like a ballroom in here! A filthy ballroom that smelled like mouse poop and had a dirt floor. I couldn’t tell if this chore was more annoying due to enhanced vampiric senses, or because I was an indifferent homeowner. There was probably another reason it was annoying, too . . . right! My cat was dead.

I found a shovel-sized piece of rust, grabbed the pillowcase, and went to the far backyard. Though I had zero interest in doing my chores, I couldn’t fault the mansion for its size and beauty, and I liked that the yard was huge, not one of the postage-stamp ones . . . a good trick in a city the size of St. Paul.

I walked toward a couple of the big old oak trees in the left corner . . . they were naked now, but in the summer and fall they were pretty great. If Giselle had ever expressed a desire to be buried (by me), I liked to think she’d have asked for this corner. 

It had been a mild fall, and there were only a couple of inches of snow, but the ground was frozen. Normally it’d be a bitch to dig, but I had confidence in my weird undead strength. There were a few upsides to being the queen of all vampires. 

(I was almost getting to the point where I could think of myself with that title and not go into gales of amazed laughter. Give me another seventy or eighty years, and I might be able to pull it off with my puh-puh-puh-poker face.)

Me being me, I tended to focus more on the downside. Stupid strength of the damned was on the list along with stupid superhearing and stupid keen sense of smell. Also me being me, the downside list was much, much longer. And as the shovel slid through frozen dirt like a smoothie blade through a raspberry, another one came to me. One I’d stupidly discounted when I took on my duties as the undertaker of the dead cat who’d gotten me killed and then inconveniently died on our stairs. The dogs. They were a huuuuge downside. 

And here they came, thundering toward me in a slobbering charge.

1 comment :

  1. Yes MJ fix it! I'm on page 105 now, crossing my fingers the darkness have passed



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