What do you Fear?


If you look ‘control’ up in the dictionary, you’ll find a description that includes ‘dominate’ and ‘command.’ Powerful words that feed confidence. But what if you found yourself suddenly stripped of those strengths?

Let me put it another way–what do you fear?

It’s a loaded question, one that makes most people squirm.  There are numerous evils in the world, things that terrify and induce nightmares but, for this post, I’m referring to something less horrific. Phobias are anxieties we deal with every day—fear of heights, flying, snakes, germs—take your pick, the list is endless. Even the commonplace quandaries of… is my job secure? Will the elevator get stuck between floors and trap me inside? Do I really want to ride that stratospheric sky-rush rollercoaster guaranteed to give me a nose bleed and tummy trauma?

Although each of these phobias are unique, they share a common denominator—lack of control. Why do people fear flying? Why are we helpless in the face of illness? Because we have no control over the situation. We’re at the mercy of powers we can’t manipulate, forced to trust the outcome. That’s hard to do if you’re used to influencing the results. It’s the difference between observing and being an active participant.

I want to take that one step further and introduce you to a character who values control above all other qualities. The hero of my paranormal/time travel romance, WEATHERING ROCK, Caleb DeCardian was a colonel for the Union Army during American’s Civil War. Despite being a young officer, he is used to being in charge, and having others do exactly as he says when he orders them. Imagine a person who thrives on self-discipline–who as a leader is emotionally detached–suddenly at the whim of a curse that controls him.

What curse?

That’s where the paranormal element of my novel comes into play. Caleb has been cursed by Seth Reilly, a man once his closet friend now a bitter rival, to life as a werewolf. Lycanthropy has robbed him of the control he values so highly, the mainstay of his life through the senseless tragedy of war. If that weren’t debilitating enough, he and Seth are transported to the 21stCentury where nothing is as he remembers. Everything is strange, foreign and confusing.  The man accustomed to giving orders is now the one asking questions.

Thankfully, Caleb makes a few allies in the present, including a loyal descendant and a woman who is every bit as bewildering as his strange new century. Unfortunately, Seth has no plans of allowing him to live there peacefully—or remain alive.

Can Caleb defeat his enemy, win the woman he loves, and straddle two centuries to find happiness? I invite you to open the pages of WEATHERINGROCK to find out:

EXCERPT:
Caleb paced in the parlor, his head throbbing. He hadn’t bothered turning on any lights, his werewolf-enhanced vision acute without the extra illumination.


His rival hadn’t killed because he’d been driven to, but for pleasure and mastery. He’d killed to taunt Caleb.

“Bastard!” Caleb drove his fist into the wall. A framed watercolor shuddered beneath the blow, slipping on its hook to end at a lopsided angle. Outside, the distinctive purr of Wyn’s sporty BMW breezed up the drive and into the garage. Caleb didn’t need a clock to tell him it was after one AM, or that his nephew had kept him waiting longer than acceptable. And the fool had the nerve to accuse him of being preoccupied with sex!

It was damned unfair of Wyn to have a healthy, normal relationship with a woman when his own was eternally cursed. By the time his nephew walked up the porch steps, Caleb had wrenched open the front door.

“Where the hell have you been?”

Wyn gave a grunt, half laughter, half disbelief. “Work on your greeting, Colonel.” He shouldered past, pushing inside. “If you’re in a piss-poor mood, take a hike. I had a great night with Lauren and you’re not going to spoil it.”

“Winston!” But even the outrage that normally made his nephew draw up short in anger had no effect.

Wyn moved into the parlor and bent to switch on a lamp. “Some light wouldn’t hurt. Not all of us have your senses, Caleb.” Yawning, he rumpled a hand through his hair. “So, how was the big date? Did Arianna bring you home?”

“Lucas Drake brought me home,” Caleb snarled, thrusting past him. The glow from the lamp stung his eyes, intensifying the pain in his head. He didn’t know why he was so angry, at least not with Wyn. Seth was the one who took perverted pleasure in killing, taunting him with sadistic acts of violence. Trying to compose himself, he bowed his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. “There’s been another killing.”
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AUTHOR BIO:
Mae Clair opened a Pandora’s Box of characters when she was a child and never looked back.  Her father, an artist who tinkered with writing, encouraged her to create make-believe worlds by spinning tales of far-off places on summer nights beneath the stars. She snagged the tail of a comet, hitched a ride, and discovered her writer’s Muse on the journey.


Mae loves creating character-driven fiction in settings that vary from contemporary to mythical. Wherever her pen takes her, she flavors her stories with conflict, romance and elements of mystery. Married to her high school sweetheart, she lives in Pennsylvania and is passionate about writing, old photographs, a good Maine lobster tail and cats.

You can find Mae Clair at the following haunts:
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2 comments

  1. I am an avid reader…. I also have wet macular degeneration. It is a non-reversible, no cure eye disease. I am going blind… right now I wear what is commonly, if rudely, described as coke bottle glasses. I fear the day when I will be blind. It is also the reason I read 5 to 10 books a week. I need to get as many in as I can, while I can.
    Julie O

  2. Hi, Julie. I’m very sorry to hear of your condition, especially as reading brings you such pleasure. It would be devastating to face in any circumstance, but avid readers (such as you and I) rely so much on sight. I can only hope that it progresses slowly. My best to you.