My guest today is Mel Massey. Hello! Welcome to Writing in the Modern Age! It’s such a pleasure to have you here.
Can you tell us a little bit about your latest release? When did it come out? Where can we get it?
Servant of the Blood is available
now (released September 15th). It is available for e-books on Amazon as well as
paperback on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and the Book Depository.
Great!
Is there anything that prompted your book? Something that inspired you?
Not one thing in particular, no. I do
love the Arabic culture, especially ancient Arabic culture. It's so rich with
the vibrant colors and elaborate dress. It was easy to create Allatu from that.
All right.
So, when did you know you wanted to write? Or has it always been a pastime of yours?
I've always loved writing from
childhood. It seemed like such a natural thing, as an adult, to keep creating
new worlds.
Do you have any favorite authors?
Of course! H. Rider Haggard is a
favorite of mine. His foray into fantasy no less in Africa in the late 1800's
was revolutionary.
Okay.
Do you write in a specific place? Time of day?
I usually write at night. I plot
throughout the day, but once the house calms down I can actually write.
Are there any words you'd like to impart to fellow writers? Any advice?
There are a lot of folks out there
giving advice to writers. It seems daunting for someone new coming into this
world. The only thing I’ll tell them is to simply write. Pen to paper/fingers
to keys. Do that and you'll be a writer.
That's great advice! We can never forget how we all began.
Thank
you so much for stopping by to visit us today here at Writing in the
Modern Age, Mel. It was so nice having you! :)
Readers, here is the blurb for Servant of the Blood.
The Servant of the Blood, Allatu, will always come when called and has for generations. She will fulfill wishes - for a price. Set in Tunisia, an ancient creature is called to do her master's bidding but nothing comes without a price.
Here is an excerpt.
Two
covered figures, one bent with age and the other a child, quietly made their
way from the main house into the night. The older of the two pulled the smaller
one along in the dark by the hand as they walked further and further into the
shadows.
This was the night of the new moon. It was the perfect chance to see the deed
done. If what her son, Samir, told her was true, this would be the last chance
she would have. She could not let her son and his family fall to ruin. She
would not allow it. They thought her an old and feeble woman. True, the years
had taken their toll on her body – but not her mind. Her mind was as keen as
it ever was.
She remembered many things. Many lost and forgotten things handed down to her
by her own grandmother. For many years, she had forgotten them all. Her
marriage, her duties as a wife, and then motherhood whisked those tales away as
if a hawk swooped down and carried them off. Only as she lay in her birthing
bed, laboring to bring her sons into the world, did pieces of the tales return.
They gave her strength. She was a wife, mother, and now a grandmother – but
once she was Luja who knew the family’s secrets.
Now, after so many years had passed, she turned once again to those memories of
her grandmother. The new moon was when one did this sort of thing, she remembered.
Her granddaughter, Hala, was her ever-present shadow and she meant to share
this thing with her. She pulled the sleepy child along in the dark, headed for
the farthest corner of the gardens.
“I’m tired, Grandmother.” Hala whispered.
“Hush, child. We have things to do, you and I.” She looked once more over her
shoulder and pushed on, past the unkempt and dying gardens to the farthest
corner beside the stone wall. “I think this will do.”
She handed Hala a small bundle wrapped in cloth before kneeling on the ground.
She felt around until she found a stick big enough to suit her needs.
With more force than she knew she still possessed, the old woman began to dig a
hole beneath the olive tree. Her arthritic hands ached, but her spirit soared.
She would see this thing done. It had to be done. No one else knew what she
did. She would save her family.
Hala sat heavily on the ground, her head resting in her hands as she watched
her grandmother dig. That was good. Let her see each step. Let her understand
there are ways beyond those of the modern world to get what one needs. Tonight,
she was herself again. She imagined herself the young and beautiful Luja who
had a wild spirit and a quick temper. In the morning, she would be
Grandmother again… but not yet.
Satisfied with the size of the hole, Luja reached for the bundle in Hala’s
arms. She snatched it from her and anxiously unwrapped the contents. The
girl’s curiosity roused her from her fatigue. She leaned forward to see the
objects of the bundle laid out in the dirt. A precious bowl of honey and two
figs sat beside another, longer item.
Luja carefully began unwrapping linen from around it. It was sacred to her
family, her grandmother told her. It was only to be used in the direst of
circumstances. How to use it was only taught to the daughters of the family,
for men were not permitted to touch such things.
“What is that, Grandmother?” Hala whispered.
“Our salvation, sweet girl.” From the folds of aged linen, a statue emerged. It
was carefully made. The age, Luja did not know. She knew it was delicate and
priceless. It was made from clay but held together by a thin layer of gold. It
was the image of a woman, naked but for carvings on the body. She did not know
what they meant but she showed Hala the statue reverently. It was as shiny as
the day Luja’s own grandmother showed it to her. She remembered her voice shook
as she told Luja of the power in the statue and how it worked. Luja asked
her grandmother if she would ever use it. “I would not dare,” she told her.
Well, Luja dared.
“Who is it? Why is she naked?”
“She is the one who will help our family.” Luja told her.
“How? Papa says we have no money and soon we’ll be living on the streets.
Are we going to sell this, Grandmother? Sell it to pay the money Papa owes?”
Hala’s words drove a knife into her heart. No child should know of the woes of
her parents. Samir was foolish and selfish to say such things where the
children could hear. But his foolish and selfish ways were the reason they were
in such dire straights. He gambled what they had and risked everything on
dreams that never came true.
“No, my child. We will not sell her. She is priceless and too powerful to sell,
but she can help us in other ways. Give me your hand,” Luja carefully placed
the golden statue in the hole and reached for Hala. “It will only hurt for a
moment.” Before the child could understand, Luja pulled a knife from the folds
of her dress and made a small cut in the palm of her hand.
“Ouch, Grandmother!” Hala tried to pull her hand back but Luja kept it firmly
grasped over the gold statue.
“She only requires a little blood, child. When you come of age, you will
bleed every month. Blood is nothing to women. Men like to think they know of
blood and pain but we are the ones who truly know. Now, you know the
power of your blood. It is precious because you are a virgin, unspoiled by men.
Mine would not do for this. There,” she released her grip on the girl’s hand
and watched as the crimson droplets painted the gold surface. “That is enough.”
“Who is she?” Hala asked, holding her injured hand close to her chest.
“She is the servant of the blood. She is the giver of desires and the force of
the Mother. I do not know her name. She is what she has always been to our
family – our salvation and our curse.”
“What do we do now?”
“We bury her, Hala. Then leave the offerings. If they are pleasing, if we are
pleasing, she will hear them and come to answer our prayers.”
“Is it right what we are doing, Grandmother? I’m not sure Papa will approve,”
Hala said as she stood.
“Certainly, he wouldn’t. If he did, I should question my actions.”
“I don’t understand–”
“Never you mind, my dear. Come, help me cover her and set these offerings to
right.”
“How will we know? How will we know if she will help us or not, Grandmother?”
Hala asked as she scooped dirt back into the hole.
“I am not certain. We women must do what we can to save those we love. Here,
hand me that bowl.” Luja placed the bowl of honey directly above the buried
statue. “There, we have done what we can. It is out of our hands now.”
Luja and Hala covered their heads once again and silently made their way back
through the garden toward the house. The girl still held her injured hand close
to her chest and her grandmother pulled her along in the dark. It had been
years since Luja felt so alive. She'd committed a great sin tonight. This sin was
one she would not apologize for. She was a woman and women must do what they
can in the shadows to see their families prosper in the light of day.
Purchase Links:
Amazon Universal: http://bookgoodies.com/a/B014JMYW5S
Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/servant-of-the-blood-mel-massey/1122656195
CreateSpace: https://www.createspace.com/5703930
Interesting! I certainly want to find out more!
Author Bio
Mel Massey is a native Texan but has called California, Florida, Missouri, and Washington home. Mel went to college in California and studied Cultural Anthropology where her field of study had a huge impact on the creation of the Earth's Magick series. Mel is also politically active and a (sometimes loud) supporter for equal rights, non-GMO products, animal rights and against the generally obnoxious politician.
Mel can be found tweeting nonsense or having hilarious discussions with readers on Facebook. Occasionally, she leaves those particular vices and writes about magick, witches, monsters and all the lovely dark things lurking in the shadows.
Author Links:
Website: http://www.melmassey.com/
Blog: http://www.melmassey.com/blog/28
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Mel-Massey-428771050563839/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/melmmassey
Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/Mel-Massey/e/B00ID9Z9D8/
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7520433.Mel_Massey
Mel's Books:
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