Please welcome Brenna Lyons to the blog, author of the Xxan, Kegin, Night Warriors, Renegades, and many more. Brenna has been published more than 80 times in the last seven years, more than two dozen of them novel-length. Thank you for agreeing to answer my nosy questions and share them with everyone visiting today.

A: Thanks for having me!

Q: To begin, please share which genre(s) you write in…
A: I write in many genres but mainly spec fic (fantasy, urban fantasy, science fiction, and horror), with or without romance or erotic content involved. My style is milieu-heavy and fairly dark.

Q: How long did you write before you received your first contract for publication?
A: I’ve been writing poetry seriously since I was 7 and competing in various writing contests since I was 11. I was first published in a local newspaper (journalism) when I was 13. I won a place in the Young Poet’s Symposium at the University of Pittsburgh at 15, won a four-year college scholarship with a timed essay when I was 17, did my first public reading of my poetry when I was 19, and wrote my first novel when I was 32 (actually a two-book serial novel titled PROPHECY). That novel was signed a little more than a year after I started writing it and nine months after I finished writing it. So, depending on how you want to count that…I signed my first contract either 26 years after I started writing seriously or nine months after I finished writing my first novel.

Q: Out of all the stories you’ve written, which is your favorite?
A: That depends on my mood. If you asked me today, I’d probably say my newest Wolkin story, another of my Kegin series spin-offs. But I’d only say that, because I’m working on it right now, so I’m particularly attached to the story right now. On other days, I might name one of my other worlds and books.

I re-read my work a lot, depending on my mood. When I’m in a down mood, it might be Night Warriors or my straight-genre horror stuff. In an up mood, it might be my Born Investigators, Grellan War, or Kegin and Kegin spin-offs (Kielan and Wolkin worlds). In an intense mood, it might be my Xxan or Renegades worlds. Since I write in 20 series worlds and stand-alones, I have too many choices to concrete it to just one favorite.

Q: Do you need to be in a specific place or atmosphere before the words flow?
A: The better question would be, “Do you have to be in a specific place to stop the flow?” Unless someone is hovering over me, trying to engage me in conversation and/or being loud and disruptive, the words are going to flow. My muse is something of a leather-clad, whip-wielding taskmaster. Or is that taskmistress? She reminds me a lot of a nun I had as a teacher in first grade. And she never sleeps. Is it any surprise I rarely sleep, either?

Q: What’s the strangest source of inspiration you’ve found for a story?
A: Strangest? Hmmm… I’ve written books from songs, dreams, people watching, playing what-if… The strangest was probably TYGERS from the Renegades series. I wrote it from a snip of a dream my husband had. He told me about it. One scene stuck with me, and I built a book around that scene.

Q: If you could offer one tidbit of information for new writers, what would it be?
A: Just one? Are you noticing a pattern here?

1. Don’t obsess over the perfect opening line, perfect hook, perfect market, genre distinctions… While you’re worrying about all of that, you could be halfway done writing the book. Write it first, then craft those things or fit the book to a market. There’s never only one right market for a work anyway.

2. Don’t worry about minute edits while you’re writing the book. You can edit poorly-written work. You can’t edit a blank page. Get the butt in the chair and WRITE it. Then edit it.

3. Don’t try to copy anyone else’s writing process. The words come for you how they come for you: longhand or in the computer, quiet room, white noise, music, noise and insanity…even the number of words per day that is comfortable for you. Trying to copy someone else’s process will only drive you crazy and adversely affect your output.

4. That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try new things. WANTING to be a pantser doesn’t mean you’ll be good at it. You may need more framework to your process. So try. If it works, keep it. If it doesn’t, don’t.

5. This is a career. Learn what the terms mean. Learn what’s ’standard.’ Learn to read guidelines and how to change from standard to what the individual editors and agents want. Learn what the terms mean and how to apply them.

6. Writing the book is only the first step…and it’s one of the easier ones for the writer to accomplish. You have to learn to edit, to submit, to market, about contracts, about royalties… You don’t just write a book, submit it, and wait for the money to roll in.

7. What’s the most important subject to take in school, if you plan on being a writer? ALL of them. Whatever you learn in English (grammar, preferred spellings, etc.) will change with each new edition of Chicago Manual of Style or Merriam-Webster’s Dictionary or whatever resources a publisher uses, which is why there is never a real ’standard’ across all publishers. You have to be able to do math to check your royalty reports. You have to know science to get it right in the books… In fact, the more knowledge you have, the richer your books will be. That applies to both book knowledge and practical experience.

Q: Do you have an evil day job or do you write full time?
A: I had an evil day job for the first seven years I was writing novels. Thanks to my husband’s great generosity and a back injury, I gave that up and write full time now.

Q: Name one thing readers would be surprised to learn about you.
A: My next younger sister (12 years down from me) has the same first and middle name as I do. We’re stepsisters, of course. My younger siblings range from 1 to 22 years younger than I am. I’m technically the oldest of eight, if you count all of the full, half, and stepsiblings.

Q: What’s your favorite dirty word?
A: Frack. I love any swear word I can say in front of the kids and not get them in trouble for learning it. My old favorite was shite, but frack stuck.

Q: Do you have any tattoos or piercings?
A: Pierced ears and two tattoos. I have a large 3×5 or so tattoo of a lion cub on the back of my right shoulder and two of my Night Warriors Glyphs (Zel Jee - Death and Justice) on my right ankle. It really freaked the tattoo artist to put on glyphs I created, but he did it.

Q: If you won the lottery tomorrow, what would you spend the money on?
A: Pay off the bills. Move to a larger house, newer house. Pay for my husband to go back for his degrees. Hit a bunch of conventions I want to. Get a vacation place out in the woods for my family. Oh, and that 9-day cruise Transatlantic for the family, 30-days visiting Europe, and 9-day cruise back. Yeah, I’ve looked at the cruises and even know which one I’d want to take. Grinning… I don’t dream much, do I? Especially since I don’t play the lottery.

Q: Which household chore do you abhor and why?
A: Cleaning floors. I can deal with most repetitive chores, but that’s not one I can. It frustrates the heck out of me that I scrub the floors, and the dogs or kids go outside and drag in more mud. At least with clothing, dishes, and cleaning the bathroom, I feel I’m making the mess I clean up, along with everyone else.

Q: What’s your favorite comfort food?
A: Just one? How about a comfort meal? Prime rib (rare or medium rare), mashed potatoes, asparagus, and home-baked pie ala mode.

Q: Do you have a favorite book or movie?
A: Not just one. It really depends on my mood. I read a lot of authors and genres, so depending on my mood, one or the other would be the favorite of the moment.

Q: If you don’t mind sharing, would you tell us about your latest work in progress?
A: I always have a bunch in progress (up to 80 or so). At the moment, I’m working on the next Night Warriors book (vampires and vampire hunters, signed to Phaze), the next Kegin book (aliens and humans, signed to Phaze), the next Xxan book (reptilian-human crossbred aliens, signed to LooseId), and the next Wolkin book (shapeshifters, the basis of the werewolf myths on Earth, unsigned but will probably go to Phaze, since it’s a Kegin spin-off that includes Keen characters).

Q: In closing, tell us a bit about your latest release (& share a yummy excerpt for those who aren’t yet familiar with your work)
A: In the last two months, I’ve had three releases:
Dec 8- All I Want for Christmas is You (contemp erom from LooseId)
Jan 11- Bride Ball (book one of the series - urban fantasy fairy tale erom from Phaze)
Jan 18- “Foundling” in Coming Together: Into The Light (story two of the Instincts series - shapeshifter erom from Phaze - charity anthology to benefit the fight against violence against women)

I’ll also have four releases in the next two months. In February, I’ll be releasing Marked (science fiction erom) from Phaze and “Mine for the Night” in the Cougar anthology (science fiction erotica) from Logical-Lust. In March, I’ll be releasing Poison, Lies, and No-Win Choices (Bride Ball book two - urban fantasy erom) and The Master’s Lover (book two of Star Mages - fantasy erom - M/M), both from Phaze.

Excerpt from Bride Ball
“Let me off here,” Amber requested.
Keane shot her a look of disbelief. “Why would you do that?”
“You know my stepmother. If I’m announced, she will make every effort to embarrass me.”
He winced. “She would, but how will you get in without being announced?”
“I have a plan for that, but you need to let me off here.” Ahead, she could see the curve that would lead them to the front entrance.
“As you wish.” He pulled the vehicle to the side of the road to let Amber out. It was his father’s vehicle, an older model that had seen better days, but it was quiet and well-maintenanced.
She pulled her mask on, held her cloak tight around her body and bolted into the gardens. The cool, night air teased at her uncovered skin and the satin cups of the bustier caressed her, bringing her nipples to hard points.
“Oh, yes. Like that,” a male voice panted out.
Amber paused, waiting for some sign of what direction it had come from, hoping not to stumble over someone’s sexual play. A series of moans from her right sent her forward and to the left. Luckily, there wasn’t another couple that direction, and she made the patio without incident.
At least that far… She almost turned back at the patio.
The women gathered there were in the most outrageous outfits she’d ever seen. One was in sheer lace that revealed her entire body. Another was in a weave of leather straps that left her augmented breasts bare and would bare her probably-shaven mound with a single buckle. Still another wore a short skirt with no panties beneath, a fact that was impossible to miss when she leaned forward; she did that often.
Amber tried not to stare at the half-nude women, with their padded or surgically-enhanced breasts. In their quest for a choice position, it seemed no expense had been spared.
The talk was even more disconcerting. Some named which nobles had already sampled their wares that evening and boasted of expected offers. Some talked about the prince, postulating on who he might choose. By the last of it, Amber wanted nothing more than to escape into the depths of the ball, and she did so, pushing her hood and cloak to her back to bare her modest outfit.
Slipping into the ballroom was akin to slipping into the depths of the unholy underworld. Everywhere, couples and more gyrated against each other in what she presumed was dancing. Others were engaged in heated kisses or blatant touching.
She picked a route toward a seemingly sedate round of conversing lords and ladies, only to find herself passing peek windows into a walled area that contained a veritable orgy of sex partners that obviously enjoyed their audience. From the reactions of those at the windows, they enjoyed watching nearly as much as those inside enjoyed being watched.
Her face burning, Amber bolted for the punch bowl, passing by two soldiers who seemed to be stationed at the table. It was spiked, of course, and there was no sign of an alternative, so she sipped at it.
The conversation she’d sought proved even more blatant than what she’d heard on the patio. Amber made for a deserted stretch of wall, nearly hopping in place, staring at her drink, for lack of anywhere safer to paste her eyes.
Why did Nana insist on this?
A few nobles wandered her way, invariably older men…and drunken. The younger wanted something more impressive, more engaging. She turned them down politely, and they left with nods and offers to seek them out later.
Amber groaned. How was she supposed to find a noble when she choked at the sight of them?
A familiar laugh caught her attention, and she looked toward the head of the room, coughing on a mouthful of punch. Marquita and Kambry were performing a sex show for a well-dressed, masked gentleman that she would assume was the prince. They turned in unison and draped themselves over him, stroking his body and whispering in his ear. He kissed Kambry and then Marquita, tangling his hands in their hair.
She looked away, taking a deeper drink of the punch. They were shameless, and perhaps a drink would calm her nerves, so she could last another hour of this and satisfy Nana’s insistence that she try.
Tears stung at her eyes. She’d be better off marrying some land-owner’s foreman than attempting this. She shouldn’t have come. She didn’t belong–
“Care for a dance or a moment of conversation?” a rich, male timbre inquired.
Amber turned to dismiss him…and the words stuck in her throat. He was young, and he was beautiful. He was dressed simply, in loose, tied trousers of suede. His bare chest was tanned and ridged in muscles. His lips were full and dark, and though a brown, suede mask that matched his trousers concealed most of his face, his deep blue eyes and the fluff of blonde hair drew her eyes.
Her heart pounded in excitement. A younger man… Oh, but Nana was right about that.
“Pardon?” she managed.
“A dance or a bit of conversation?”

OR…Excerpt from All I Want for Christmas is You

“I want to have a baby.”
“C-come again,” David managed to stutter out. Overall, it was a better response than she’d anticipated to the announcement.
Robin took a calming breath and prepared to explain. Despite how many times she’d rehearsed the speech, it deserted her in the heat of the moment, just as she’d feared it would. Just as it often had with Zach.
“Well…Zach and I had planned to have a baby right away.”
He nodded, setting his beer on the table between them. “He mentioned it.”
That would make things easier. I hope. “I still want to.”
“Have…a baby.”
Robin hesitated and then nodded. He thinks I’m insane. Then again, she thought she was insane some days. How many weeks had she argued this? How many times had she reversed course? More than Robin cared to count.
David gulped down another few mouthfuls of his beer before he answered, seemingly steeling himself for something unpleasant. “Robin, I know you love Zach.”
And she loved David for phrasing it that way. Anyone else would have said ‘loved Zach,’ marginalizing her feelings, dismissing them. Putting the nails in the coffin of her love for him. She winced at the pun.
“But, baby… Much as we both love Zach, he is gone.”
Anyone else would have ended up with a faceful of red wine at that blunt statement, but David had always been honest with her when no one else would.
“I know,” she replied with all the dignity she could muster.
“The plans you made together…” David sighed. “They were meant to be carried out together. I’m not saying you’re incapable of doing this without him,” he hastened to add.
“What are you saying, David?”
He darkened a notch. “Be sure, before you do something this…big. Be certain you’re not doing this just to hold onto a piece of what you and Zach planned.”
She stiffened, offended that he’d think her capable of it. “I’m not.”
“Just be sure,” he insisted. “Holding onto the past just to –”
“I’m not!”
A couple at a nearby table slid a glance at them at her outburst. Robin pretended not to notice it, and they went back to their conversation.
David took her hand, stroking his thumb over the back and his fingers in the bowl of her palm. With that little provocation, her body responded.
It seemed to be happening more and more often. Touches he intended to soothe her aroused her senses. Shared looks made her heart pound in excitement. Whispered words had her wet and aching.
His voice dragged her back to the present.
“You’ve thought this through, then?”
“For months.” That was no exaggeration.
David raised her hand and pressed a chaste kiss to her knuckles. “Then I’ll help you.”
Her breathing hitched. That simply? I ask the seemingly insane, and he agrees nearly without question. David was a rare man. Zach would have demanded weeks of negotiation on the subject. She pushed that thought away before she stared arguing this choice again. “Thank you.”
“So what’s it going to be? A sperm bank?”
Her face burned in embarrassment. Now comes the moment when he says I’m insane. Robin didn’t doubt that his offer to help was about to be rescinded.
“Robin?” There was an edge of steel in that question, and he stopped stroking her hand.
“I was hoping…” She couldn’t form the words. Damn! Why did I spend all that time practicing the logic, if I can’t speak coherently enough to say it?
One dark brow arched at her hesitation. “Hoped?” he prompted her.
“To have…ah…a donation from someone who shared chromosomes with Zach.” She knew her eyes were pleading with him. Not so much for his agreement; it was unlikely she’d get that much. Robin would be lucky if he didn’t walk away and wash his hands of her.
The beer came up in David’s free hand, and he drained it. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and set the empty glass back on the table. After a tense moment of silence, his eyes opened, and he forged on.
“You want me to… What? Leave a sample with your doctor or something?”
It sounded horrid, when phrased that way. Beside that, it wasn’t what she wanted. She tried for humor, her heart aching. “If that’s the only way you will.” At least, she’d get the baby that way, which was better than not, she supposed.
His eyes widened, and dark patches of color bloomed in his face. “If… If…?”
She stared to speak, uncertain what would spill out. It had been too much to ask. It was time to let him off the hook and get therapy for her fascination with him.
He put up an index finger, an unmistakable order for a moment of silence.
Robin snapped her mouth shut, cursing herself for not dropping the whole idea. She’d argued it was crazy at least a hundred times. Why had she bothered to pursue it?
David dragged out his wallet and tossed a twenty on the table. A whirlwind of a moment later, he was ushering Robin out of Mik’s and into the crisp winter air outside. She zipped her jacket, averting her eyes, anticipating the lecture to come.
He turned to her, and she looked up against her better judgment. His face was all harsh lines. Oh, yes. The lecture was coming.
“If that’s the only way I will?”
There was something manic couched in his tone, but he wasn’t shouting at her or suggesting a shrink. To her surprise, he seemed to want answers, so she organized her thoughts, seeking out the reasons she’d so carefully prepared.
“I’ve investigated every –”
“Robin,” he warned.
She stared at him, confused. What had he been asking, if not the reasons why he should consider a more intimate donation to the cause?
“Are you saying you’d prefer another option?”

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To learn more about Brenna, please visit:
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