Tara Maya
Author Archives: Tara Maya
Tara Maya
- by Tara Maya
3 Days of 99c Fantasy — Part 2
I’m back with more of the books in the 3-day 99-cent fantasy e-book promotion, which features The Unfinished Song (Book 2): Taboo. (Considering the first one is free, you can essentially own 1/6 of the series of only 99 cents!) From February 10-12 we’ll have a total of 10 books discounted to 99 cents. While all of the books are available at 99 cents throughout the promotion, I’ll be featuring 3 per day here.
The Chocolatier’s Wife
ROMANCE, MAGIC, MYSTERY…. AND CHOCOLATE
When Tasmin’s bethrothed, William, is accused of murder, she gathers her wind sprites and rushes to his home town to investigate. She doesn’t have a shred of doubt about his innocence. But as she settles in his chocolate shop, she finds more in store than she bargained for. Facing suspicious townsfolk, gossiping neighbors, and William’s own family, who all resent her kind – the sorcerer folk from the North — she must also learn to tell friend from foe, and fast. For the real killer is still on the loose – and he is intent on ruining William’s family at all cost.The Chocolatier’s Wife is a truly original, spellbinding love story, featuring vivid characters in a highly realistic historical setting.
Rowena Through the Wall
When Rowena falls through her classroom wall and lands in an alternate world, she doesn’t count on being kidnapped―not once, but twice―and the stakes get higher as the men get hotter.
College instructor Rowena Revel has a magical gift with animals and a huge problem. Gorgeous tunic-clad men keep walking through the wall of her classroom. If that isn’t enough, she’s being haunted by sexy dreams in a rugged land. Curious, she checks out the wall and falls through a portal into the world of her dreams.
After years of war, women are scarce. Rowena finds herself in a heap of man-trouble when she ‘accidentally’ marries distant cousin Ivan. Enter Cedric, who dabbles in black magic and has an even blacker heart. Throw in a Viking, the local wolf-king, a band of brigands and a goth-clad student who follows her through the portal, and Rowena is off on a rollicking adventure.
Unwanted husbands keep piling up, but that doesn’t stop her from falling for the wrong brother. Not only that, she has eighteen year old Kendra to look out for and a war to prevent. Good thing she has the ability to go back through the wall. Or does she?
Dragon Rose (Tales of the Latter Kingdoms)
The shadow of the cursed Dragon Lord has hung over the town of Lirinsholme for centuries, and no one ever knows when the Dragon will claim his next doomed Bride. Rhianne Menyon has dreams of being a painter, but her world changes forever when a single moment of sacrifice brings her to Black’s Keep as the Dragon’s latest Bride. As she attempts to adjust to her new life — and to know something of the monster who is now her husband — she begins to see that the curse is far crueler than she first believed. Unraveling the mystery of what happened to the Dragon’s Brides is only the beginning…
To check out all the books available, and some ongoing freebies, click here.
- by Tara Maya
3 Days of 99c Fantasy — Part 1
I’m really excited to be joining some other fantasy authors for a 3-day 99-cent fantasy e-book promotion, featuring The Unfinished Song (Book 2): Taboo. From February 10-12 we’ll have a total of 10 books discounted to 99 cents. While all of the books are available at 99 cents throughout the promotion, I’ll be featuring 3 per day here. It also gives you something to read while I make the final preparations to release The Unfinished Song (Book 6): Blood on Valentine’s Day! (That’s Thursday!)
Yseult: A Tale of Love in the Age of King Arthur
For the price of a truce, Yseult is sent to a world where magic is dying – to marry the father of the man she loves. Marcus’s son Drystan would have saved her from a loveless marriage, but with her relatives being held hostage, Yseult cannot endanger them and must go through with the wedding. The tragic love story of Yseult and Drystan plays out against the backdrop of a violent world threatening to descend into the Dark Ages – only Arthur’s battles to push back the Saxon hordes can save what is left of civilization.
Yseult is a retelling of the tragic tale of Tristan and Isolde, a story older than Romeo and Juliet or Lancelot and Guinevere; an Arthurian romance with roots going back far into the realm of legend and the undying tales of King Arthur.
A historical fantasy novel by Ruth Nestvold, Book I of The Pendragon Chronicles. Also available on Kobo and B&N.
Once Upon a Curse: Stories and Fairy Tales for Adult Readers
STEP INTO THE WORLD OF MYTH AND MAGIC…Fair maidens, handsome princes, witches, and fairy godmothers all show their dark and dangerous side in this anthology inspired by myths and fairy tales, retold by some of the best authors in this generation and by some upcoming new talents. Told with a dark twist, focused on the lure of the gorgeous evil, this collection will take the readers on a wild ride through magical realms of Ancient Greece, old Russia, medieval Europe, and modern day America.
THE CURSE OF ABSOLUTE POWER.
THE MAGIC OF TRUE LOVE.
When, on the day of her age-coming, the princess opens a mysterious bronze bottle—a gift from her grandmother—she has no idea that she is about to unleash a power older than the world itself. Worse, she is not prepared for the bearer of this power to be a handsome man whose intense gray eyes pierce her very soul. Hasan, her new slave, is immeasurably older and stronger than anyone she has ever heard of, and he is now hers to command—if she can handle him, that is.“Truly compelling” — Booklist
“A fine recasting of Arabian Nights material into a fable for our times.” — Locus
To check out all the books available, and some ongoing freebies, click here.
- by Tara Maya
New Fiction from Kevin O. McLaughlin
“Ad Astra” launches STARSHIP, fresh episodic fiction from award-winning author Kevin O. McLaughlin. The first season of five episodes, released weekly, will carry the reader through a single novel-length adventure from Earth to the stars, and from broken spirits to humanity’s unlikely heroes.
If life knocked you down, would you risk everything you had left to reach for the stars?
Ad Astra is available on Amazon, Barnes and Noble and Kobo.
Dan tapped each dead soldier in the neck in turn, counting his kills for the evening. He came to six. Add in the bottle he was drinking, and he’d be at seven. That was still under budget. He figured this for a twelve-pack night.
He waved to the woman tending the tables, a middle-aged matron whose name he hadn’t tried to catch. She’d made a few attempts to clear his growing pile of bottles away earlier in the evening, but he’d shooed her off. Dan wanted the physical memory of the drinks sitting right there, like a badge. The woman saw his wave, but didn’t bother coming over. She just went to fetch another beer. He kept his eyes off her face. He didn’t want to see her disdain, or worse, her pity.
Instead he brought his eyes back to the bar’s TV, where the Ares rocket was still sitting on the launch pad. The countdown was frozen at four minutes and fifteen seconds. It hadn’t moved for most of an hour now, last minute problems delaying the launch.
“Hey Joe, can we switch the channel? Missing the game here,” a burly man called to the bartender.
“Yeah, Joe. This shit is boring,” said another guy.
Both of them were lumberjack big, wearing dirty work clothes. None of which bothered Dan even a little.
“Don’t touch that channel,” he snarled.
“Or what?” asked the first man.
“Wanna find out?”
“Man, don’t mess around. Who wants to see this stupid rocket sitting there, anyway?”
“I do,” Dan said.
“Larry, you can’t pick a fight with a gimp,” the guy’s buddy whispered to him, loud enough that Dan could hear anyway.
Larry blushed, noticing Dan’s wheelchair. “Hey, man, sorry. You can watch what you want.”
The bartender glared at Dan for a moment from behind his glasses, wiping furiously at a mug with a dishrag. But the TV stayed on the same channel despite what the local crowd wanted, so that was all right.
Finally the countdown kicked on again. Whatever the problem was, they must have solved it. There were four minutes left, now. Unconsciously, Dan activated his motorized chair and moved toward the TV. Three minutes left.
His eyes misted a little as the first plumes of steam appeared under the titanic rocket. The payload was a crew compartment and landing vehicle – and the first six humans from Earth to ever attempt bridging the vast distance to Mars. They’d be traveling for six months to get there, stay for six months, and then return. It was the adventure of a lifetime. It was supposed to have been the adventure of his lifetime.
He slugged down the last of the beer he was still holding. The bitter flavor matched how he was feeling. The matron plunked his new bottle down where he’d been sitting, and he reached for it without thinking, wincing as his back spasmed in protest. He grimaced. Wheelchairs went in reverse for a reason.
Less than two minutes left until takeoff. He leaned forward, willing himself into the cockpit of that ship with everything he had. He should have been there. Would have been there, if it hadn’t been for a stupidly random accident. There was something ironic about being taken down by a mini coupe after surviving dozens of missions into space unscathed. He was one of the most experienced space pilots in the world. He’d fought hard to win his berth on that mission.
All gone, now. The driver who’d lost control of his car, crossed the highway median, and smashed into Dan’s vehicle wasn’t going to have his license back for a while, but that didn’t help heal his badly fractured spine. NASA’s policy toward injury as severe as his had no leeway. As far as they were concerned, he was grounded for good. So he’d taken the early retirement with full benefits and disability that the Air Force had offered. A good deal, but as a consolation prize it sucked. He had some buddies in Panama who told him that income would let him live like a king down there.
If only he could find some reason to live at all.
Fifty seconds left on the countdown. The numbers ticked away on the corner of the TV screen.
With thirty eight seconds left, Dan’s phone rang. The sound startled him, but out of habit he answered it, not taking his eyes off the TV as he did.
“Dan Wynn here.”
He watched two more seconds tick away on the countdown before a distorted voice said “Dan! Was hoping to catch you. How’re you holding up?”
“Who is this?” Dan asked.
“It’s John,” the voice replied, after a short delay.
“John, you have any idea what you’re calling in the middle of?”
Another brief delay, and then John said “I’m watching it too, Dan. Why do you think I called you now?” Dan could almost hear his friend’s smile over the phone line.
“I think you’re interrupting,” he said, eyes narrowing. The last thing he needed right now was a pity call. Even from an old friend.
Another pregnant pause. “Dan, I’m calling to offer you a vacation, and maybe a job if you want it. I need people I can trust, and you’re top of the list.”
“I’m flattered, but–” Dan broke off in mid-sentence as the Ares rocket launched, huge plumes of fire obscuring it from view for a moment before sending it skyward. As it lifted into the sky, all his hopes and wishes vanished with it.
“Dan. DAN.” John’s voice was still nattering at him on the phone. “Listen to me.”
“What?” Dan said. His voice sounded hollow to his ears.
“Vacation, Dan. You need it. And I can use you, if you want to stay on, after.”
“I can’t,” Dan replied. “Still got paperwork to finish my retirement package, and the docs want to see me daily for rehab.”
“I’ve already cleared your paperwork up. Had a general who owed me a favor. And we’ve got doctors on site who’ll continue your rehab. But I need you here, Dan.”
The little delays in John’s responses finally made their way through Dan’s muddled thoughts. A couple of seconds of pause, each time he spoke.
“Where are you, John?” he said, curiosity leaking into his voice.
“I’m on the far side of the moon, Dan. Want to come up for a visit?”
Dan almost choked on his beer. He’d been expecting…well, something. With John, it was always something. But not that.
Another short pause. “Put the drink down, go outside. Car should be waiting for you there. The driver will take you to the launch. That is, if you are still interested in going back into space?”
Dan stared a moment at the TV again, where the camera was still following the plume of fire burning its way into the sky. For the first time all day, he could look at the ship without feeling like he was being stabbed through the heart.
“I’m on my way,” he said. He turned off his phone, slapped enough bills on the table to pay for his beers plus a healthy tip for the scowling waitress, and went out the door.
John was as good as his word. The young driver was already waiting out front, standing outside a large black SUV hybrid with a wheelchair lift built into the side. He expertly hooked Dan’s chair up to the device, chatting amiably as he worked.
“The boss was dead on right about you,” he said.
“Oh?” Dan replied.
“Yup. Called me, said you’d be out the door within five minutes. Took you three minutes thirty.”
“Well. John always did know what buttons to push on people.”
“He’s good that way. I’m Andy. You’re Dan Wynn, the astronaut?”
The simple question rocked Dan. “I suppose…I am. Again.”
He waved to the woman tending the tables, a middle-aged matron whose name he hadn’t tried to catch. She’d made a few attempts to clear his growing pile of bottles away earlier in the evening, but he’d shooed her off. Dan wanted the physical memory of the drinks sitting right there, like a badge. The woman saw his wave, but didn’t bother coming over. She just went to fetch another beer. He kept his eyes off her face. He didn’t want to see her disdain, or worse, her pity.
Instead he brought his eyes back to the bar’s TV, where the Ares rocket was still sitting on the launch pad. The countdown was frozen at four minutes and fifteen seconds. It hadn’t moved for most of an hour now, last minute problems delaying the launch.
“Hey Joe, can we switch the channel? Missing the game here,” a burly man called to the bartender.
“Yeah, Joe. This shit is boring,” said another guy.
Both of them were lumberjack big, wearing dirty work clothes. None of which bothered Dan even a little.
“Don’t touch that channel,” he snarled.
“Or what?” asked the first man.
“Wanna find out?”
“Man, don’t mess around. Who wants to see this stupid rocket sitting there, anyway?”
“I do,” Dan said.
“Larry, you can’t pick a fight with a gimp,” the guy’s buddy whispered to him, loud enough that Dan could hear anyway.
Larry blushed, noticing Dan’s wheelchair. “Hey, man, sorry. You can watch what you want.”
The bartender glared at Dan for a moment from behind his glasses, wiping furiously at a mug with a dishrag. But the TV stayed on the same channel despite what the local crowd wanted, so that was all right.
Finally the countdown kicked on again. Whatever the problem was, they must have solved it. There were four minutes left, now. Unconsciously, Dan activated his motorized chair and moved toward the TV. Three minutes left.
His eyes misted a little as the first plumes of steam appeared under the titanic rocket. The payload was a crew compartment and landing vehicle – and the first six humans from Earth to ever attempt bridging the vast distance to Mars. They’d be traveling for six months to get there, stay for six months, and then return. It was the adventure of a lifetime. It was supposed to have been the adventure of his lifetime.
He slugged down the last of the beer he was still holding. The bitter flavor matched how he was feeling. The matron plunked his new bottle down where he’d been sitting, and he reached for it without thinking, wincing as his back spasmed in protest. He grimaced. Wheelchairs went in reverse for a reason.
Less than two minutes left until takeoff. He leaned forward, willing himself into the cockpit of that ship with everything he had. He should have been there. Would have been there, if it hadn’t been for a stupidly random accident. There was something ironic about being taken down by a mini coupe after surviving dozens of missions into space unscathed. He was one of the most experienced space pilots in the world. He’d fought hard to win his berth on that mission.
All gone, now. The driver who’d lost control of his car, crossed the highway median, and smashed into Dan’s vehicle wasn’t going to have his license back for a while, but that didn’t help heal his badly fractured spine. NASA’s policy toward injury as severe as his had no leeway. As far as they were concerned, he was grounded for good. So he’d taken the early retirement with full benefits and disability that the Air Force had offered. A good deal, but as a consolation prize it sucked. He had some buddies in Panama who told him that income would let him live like a king down there.
If only he could find some reason to live at all.
Fifty seconds left on the countdown. The numbers ticked away on the corner of the TV screen.
With thirty eight seconds left, Dan’s phone rang. The sound startled him, but out of habit he answered it, not taking his eyes off the TV as he did.
“Dan Wynn here.”
He watched two more seconds tick away on the countdown before a distorted voice said “Dan! Was hoping to catch you. How’re you holding up?”
“Who is this?” Dan asked.
“It’s John,” the voice replied, after a short delay.
“John, you have any idea what you’re calling in the middle of?”
Another brief delay, and then John said “I’m watching it too, Dan. Why do you think I called you now?” Dan could almost hear his friend’s smile over the phone line.
“I think you’re interrupting,” he said, eyes narrowing. The last thing he needed right now was a pity call. Even from an old friend.
Another pregnant pause. “Dan, I’m calling to offer you a vacation, and maybe a job if you want it. I need people I can trust, and you’re top of the list.”
“I’m flattered, but–” Dan broke off in mid-sentence as the Ares rocket launched, huge plumes of fire obscuring it from view for a moment before sending it skyward. As it lifted into the sky, all his hopes and wishes vanished with it.
“Dan. DAN.” John’s voice was still nattering at him on the phone. “Listen to me.”
“What?” Dan said. His voice sounded hollow to his ears.
“Vacation, Dan. You need it. And I can use you, if you want to stay on, after.”
“I can’t,” Dan replied. “Still got paperwork to finish my retirement package, and the docs want to see me daily for rehab.”
“I’ve already cleared your paperwork up. Had a general who owed me a favor. And we’ve got doctors on site who’ll continue your rehab. But I need you here, Dan.”
The little delays in John’s responses finally made their way through Dan’s muddled thoughts. A couple of seconds of pause, each time he spoke.
“Where are you, John?” he said, curiosity leaking into his voice.
“I’m on the far side of the moon, Dan. Want to come up for a visit?”
Dan almost choked on his beer. He’d been expecting…well, something. With John, it was always something. But not that.
Another short pause. “Put the drink down, go outside. Car should be waiting for you there. The driver will take you to the launch. That is, if you are still interested in going back into space?”
Dan stared a moment at the TV again, where the camera was still following the plume of fire burning its way into the sky. For the first time all day, he could look at the ship without feeling like he was being stabbed through the heart.
“I’m on my way,” he said. He turned off his phone, slapped enough bills on the table to pay for his beers plus a healthy tip for the scowling waitress, and went out the door.
John was as good as his word. The young driver was already waiting out front, standing outside a large black SUV hybrid with a wheelchair lift built into the side. He expertly hooked Dan’s chair up to the device, chatting amiably as he worked.
“The boss was dead on right about you,” he said.
“Oh?” Dan replied.
“Yup. Called me, said you’d be out the door within five minutes. Took you three minutes thirty.”
“Well. John always did know what buttons to push on people.”
“He’s good that way. I’m Andy. You’re Dan Wynn, the astronaut?”
The simple question rocked Dan. “I suppose…I am. Again.”
- by Tara Maya
Blood To Be Released on Valentine’s Day
Dindi and Umbral have an uneasy truce, forced to work together to defeat a greater enemy: the Bone Whistler. The Bone Whistler’s scheme to sacrifice humanity and resurrect the Aelfae will culminate during an eclipse on the spring equinox…in three days.
Their fragile alliance may not withstand the terrors they face. Dindi hides as a clown, but even disguised, her dancing draws the eye of the Bone Whistler himself. She will have to defy him alone, for Umbral has his own troubles.
Finnadro, who has hunted Umbral for a year, finally catches up with him… determined to punish Umbral for all his black deeds.
Life and death, spring and autumn, human and faery, are all reeling out of balance, and these three days will determine the fate of all Faearth.
Take a peek inside with this excerpt:
Umbral
Aelfae!
Umbral’s nerves hissed danger. At the same time, so much power, so close, tempted him almost impossibly. Fighting the urge to rush forward, start drinking in all that power, was like trying to brace himself against an avalanche. He had to pull away and physically anchor himself on a stalagmite—literally wrap his hands around the cone of rock—to stop himself from revealing himself as Deathsworn by trying to steal the Aelfae’s light.
A groan rose deep in his chest and he muffled it against the rock. He let himself siphon just a little of the Aelfae’s power, just a trickle, just enough to dull his hunger and allow him to suppress his need for more. Even that tiny amount felt like a huge cascade of power. The Obsidian Mask felt heavier than it usually did, but his Penumbra throbbed with strength, and he bore the extra weight easily.
Would the Obsidian Mask deceive the Aelfae? If it did not and he showed himself to them, they would fall upon him and slay him where he stood. He didn’t delude himself that he could defeat six Aelfae warriors at the height of their power, flush with new life from their resurrection.
Waiting for them to discover him was no better. He must know if he would need to flight or flee or if he could trick them. Only when he was sure he could control himself did he look again at the Aelfae. He stepped out from behind the stalagmite.
Dindi glowed just like one of them. Seemed to merge with them almost.
What had he expected? She was one of them—as close to Aelfae as still lived in Faearth.
What if she allied herself with them against him? What would it avail him for the Obsidian Mask to deceive the Aelfae if Dindi denounced him?
No one had noticed him. If he fled the cave now, though they would surely chase him, he might still have a chance of escaping. He would warn Obsidian Mountain. They would have time to prepare for this new threat. But in the meantime, the Aelfae would meet up with their old comrade, the Bone Whistler, and their power would only grow. Umbral had no idea how the Bone Whistler planned to destroy humanity or how close he was to achieving his goal.
Dindi fell to the floor, gasping. She wasn’t melding with the Aelfae at all. They were smothering her.
Umbral stepped forward, prepared to fight all six immortals, if he had to. If those fae muckers planned to hurt Dindi, they’d have to go through him first.
Please join the Blog Tour!
There are many ways you can participate!
- Post a review of Blood or any book in The Unfinished Song series. Review copies are always free!
- Share the cover, summary or excerpt above in a post leading up to the Valentine’s Day release.
- Share a guest post with either a character sketch, excerpt, or some of my thoughts on writing and reading.
The blog tour will officially run February 14 – March 14 and of course all tour visits will be linked to on my blog, Facebook and Twitter. To sign up, please email my assistant at katie@misquepress.com.
- by Tara Maya
Big News About Book 6 TOMORROW!
Hey everyone! It’s Tara’s assistant, Katie, here to let you know that Tara has some big news to share about The Unfinished Song (Book 6) Blood tomorrow to all of the newsletter subscribers. Everyone else will have to wait until Thursday. Subscribe today if you want to be among the first to find out! Click here to sign up.
(Of course we will not sell your email address (No matter how much we’re offered!) or use them for shady purposes. In addition to information about new releases, we’re working on a regular monthly newsletter, so it shouldn’t be too much extra coming to your inbox.)
- by Tara Maya
How To Take Criticism Of Your Writing
Now, we always give advice on how to crit, but, as we discussed earlier, perhaps it is more important to discuss how to receive crits. Personally, if one receives a crit that tells you, “Your basic idea is all wrong,” how should you take this?
image: xkcd
1. Get some perspective. I look at something else that same person has critted. I read the piece and then the critter’s opinion. Often, I’ll find that I disagree just as much with that critter’s evaluation of the other person’s work as of my own. In that case, I dismiss the critter, because our tastes differ. On the other hand, if the critter has useful things to tell other people, I’ll take what she tells me more seriously.
2. Ask for specifics. I once received a crit telling me that my villains were cliche, and the ending ending to my book was obvious. This was not helpful to me. I emailed and asked *what* about the villain was cliche and what the reader thought the ending would be. The reader then told me it was because the villain wore black and some more specifics, and what they thought the “surprise” ending would be. This *was* helpful.
3. Remember your own point. In the above example the critter was completely wrong about who the villain was and the twist at the end. But the critter’s reaction told me that I had correctly set up reader expectations.
4. Keep in mind the rules of your genre. If a critter condemns your paranormal romance because he anticipates that it will end with the hero and heroine living happily ever after and that strikes him as sappy, boring and overdone, he doesn’t grasp the rules of the romance genre. Ignore him. Above all, do not give your romance an unhappy ending to please him.
5. Consider that the alternative to the “trite” may be equally trite. I have had people tell me that they are tired of High Fantasy in which the good guys prevail over the Forces of Darkness. They want to see the bad guys win “for once.” Guess what. That’s been done too. If you want to do it again, in your own story, go for it. I don’t.
6. Remember no story can be all things to all people. I like to observe the nasty things that people say about the writing of Stephen King, Nora Roberts and J.K. Rowling. It’s cliche, poorly written, has too many adverbs, is sentimental, is trashy, appeals to only to morons, etc. Maybe all true. But something worked.
7. What is the true core of your story? Perhaps you have inadvertently fleshed out your beloved story with readily available cliches. The important thing is not to lose that luminous inspiration that first moved you to write, even as you brush aside the cobwebs of trite ideas from it and polish it. Good critters may try to distinguish between the diamond and the tinsel, but ultimately, it’s up to you, the author.
Partly it depends on the piece. Partly it depends on how many people tell me the same thing. Partly it depends on the critter. Sometimes I put up an experimental chapter or story on the OWW, just to test the waters. I don’t have much invested in the piece. If I get a lot of negative crits I’ll shrug and pull it off and try something else later.
Suppose I put up a slight revision of a chapter of a book that is nearly complete and over 100,000 words, and that has previously earned a lot of enthusiasm and maybe an Editor’s Choice along the way. I say in the intro, “I just want a final polish for nits on this chapter.” Or, “I added a new scene into the middle of the chapter and want to know if it still flows ok.” Then some innocent newbie comes on and tells me that I shouldn’t start the book there, I should make the main character someone else, and they already know the ending of the book and it’s trite. Am I going to listen to a word that person says? No. Might the newbie be right? Sure. But at a certain point, a book or a short story is what it is.
Here’s a concrete example.
I once received a crit telling me that my villains were cliche, and the ending to my book was obvious. This was not helpful to me. I emailed and asked *what* about the villain was cliche and what the reader thought the ending would be. The reader then told me it was because the villain wore black and some more specifics, and what they thought the “surprise” ending would be. This *was* helpful.
They were also completely wrong, of course, about who the villain was and the twist at the end. But that told me that I had correctly set up reader expectations.
In one of the introductions to her books, Bujold also talks about the fact that many of its Beta readers told her to take out the first scene, where Miles visits his grandfather’s grave. This slows down the action of the book, they said. She kept it in, because she was not writing an action book, but a character book with a lot of action in it. She knew better than to sacrifice what was really the bedrock of the book, even though out of context of the whole series, those scenes might have seemed unnecessary. And indeed, I would say that it is her superb characterization that makes her books stand out.
Moral of the story: Making a general sweeping statement that the core idea of a story is trite is useless feedback. If you recognize cliches or you think you anticipate the twists or ending of a story, tell the author what you anticipate. BE SPECIFIC.
This gets back to the “reader reaction” kind of crit, which I find the most helpful to receive. “Tara, I knew this guy was bad news, because, just like every other High Fantasy villain he dressed in black and Reeked of Wrongness” rather than “Your villains are too cliche. Try something new.”
And if you’re the author and you receive a generalized negative or condescending review, ignore it unless the critter offers specific examples of what and why. A critter who can’t do that isn’t a very good writer him/herself and probably isn’t offering good feedback anyway.