Guest blog by Rebekah Lewis, author of Mercury Rising
Hi everyone! Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Rebekah Lewis, and (as you probably guessed from the title of my post) I write paranormal romance. (and if you want to know more about my books, please visit my website at www.rebekah-lewis.com) The series I am working on now is called The Cursed Satyroi, which is about satyrs. But, for the record, they aren’t “half goat” despite the fact that when not glamoured they sport some cloven hooves. What? Everyone has their issues.
I figured out at a young age that paranormal and horror were going to be my book genres of choice. In elementary school I devoured Scary Stories to Read in the Dark and R.L Stine’s Goosebumps. By Middle School, I had graduated to Fear Street and Christopher Pike. Sure I tried to read other popular books at the time, but I think the only Babysitter’s Club book I owned was Dawn’s Ghost. What can I say, I had a fondness for the creepy. (Suddenly hoofed heroes are starting to make sense to you all now and you think I am a weirdo. That’s fair.)
I wrote my first short story in seventh grade about a ghost named Samantha that murdered fictionalized versions of my classmates. It was a Halloween themed story for my English Class. Despite the content, I got an A and my teacher encouraged me to keep writing. So I did, and I would write short stories for my close friends to be amused by. In college, I took two Creative Writing classes, but was disappointed that we weren’t allowed to use supernatural themes in our stories. I reluctantly wrote a historical piece about a Viking, which went on to be featured in the campus’ literary publication. My second piece I cheated a bit and used elements found in scary stories for a non-paranormal. My class mates loved it. It was a contemporary piece, but I couldn’t bring myself to write it without horror elements, even if it wasn’t a scary story. Why? Because I just love the drama, I am comfortable there, and it is natural for me to write that way.
I have nothing against contemporary stories, or historical, or sci-fi, etc. In fact, I may write those genres in the future for all I know, but paranormal is what I enjoy. While I am a horror fan, it doesn’t need to be scary. It’s the element of wonder to something that is not average. Something that can’t be found in real life. It’s an added layer of escapism. Not only that, but it can become a metaphor or analogy for other issues in the story, and by giving them a physicality or a presence, they then can bring the issue to the surface in a way that sometimes gets lost or is too emphasized without it.
For example, my satyrs have a physical deformity from their curse. They didn’t always have hooves or horns, but they had to learn to live with these things. They don’t like them. They want to be human again, and have to use magic to hide their true appearance to be among regular people. Everyone has something they don’t like about themselves: weight, height, eye color, their nose, their boobs, their thighs. There is something. In the end, the satyr appearance is like that, just more extreme. The difference is they can change it if they break the curse, but not all of them will and they have to learn to live with it. They have to find a lover that can handle their imperfections and not judge them by it. Paranormal isn’t all about the strange and unusual, but about finding ways to bring about the human condition in a different way.
In my current release, the god Hermes runs into an old flame, a goddess ruled by hubris who cannot admit to her own mistakes out loud and therefore cannot apologize outright. His issues is can he forgive and forget or will it bring too much pain to be with someone with her condition?
Do you have a preferred genre of reading or writing? Why does it call to you more than the others?
Bio: Rebekah Lewis holds a Bachelor of Arts in English Literature. She is an award-winning cover artist for digital publishers, and enjoys every minute of it when not immersed into a world of satyrs and Greek gods. Always feeling the need to be productive, she can be found creating something whether with words or images, or with arts and crafts. She resides in Savannah, GA with her cat, Bagheera.
If you would like to follow Rebekah on social media or contact via email, use the following information:
Nymphs in peril, obsessive gods, females who literally cannot admit when they’re wrong, and unruly satyrs. Just another typical day for Hermes.
When Zeus refuses to demand Apollo release Daphne from captivity in Olympus, the only option left is for Hermes to free the nymph himself. A simple task for a god with his skillset, but risking the wrath of Apollo never went well for anyone.
However, imprisoned nymphs aren’t distraction enough when a former flame crashes back into Hermes’ life. It’s been a long time since he laid eyes on Hybris, and the timing couldn’t be worse. As the goddess of hubris, she has many quirks—such as being incapable of apologizing. And no matter how much she tries to assure him she can be trusted, the memory of her betrayal remains.
As they formulate a plan to rescue Daphne, Hermes soon suspects no threat is greater than the tribulations of the heart.
Don’t miss the first part of The Adventures of Hermes, a companion series to The Cursed Satyroi.
“I don’t have time for this, Hy. I have things to do. Important things.” A promise made to a satyr, one Hermes intended to keep. A damsel in distress. Heroics and all.
Hybris yawned. “Yeah. I see. Meandering around California and swimming at the beach is a matter of life or death.”
Shaking his head, he opened the glass door into the house. He attempted to shut it behind him, but she shoved past. Hermes made an extensive effort not to notice she still smelled like pomegranates.
“Well, I was waiting for Zeus to summon me before you showed up with your judgy…judginess.” He closed the door and turned back to find her relaxing on his couch, despite her soaking wet clothing. Rude.
She studied her nails. “And did he?”
“Then you aren’t doing anything important.” Her gaze flicked down to his groin. “Yet.” Standing, Hybris advanced toward him.
“No. Oh, no, no, no. No.” Hermes rocketed away and hovered out of her immediate reach. “We are so not going there again. Not this time. Not this day. Not happening.” Was she for real? After all she’d done, she wanted sex from him?
Unsure if his ego or her influence on his personal hubris affected him, a warm smugness took hold. He’d always been cocky, but she could bring it out to the maximum.
“And why not? I’m a beautiful woman, you desire me, and you have an open schedule. Take off your pants and pleasure me.”