Some Rambling Thoughts

Well, our drought has officially ended! Yay! After today's rain storm, and having had some rain in the past 3 days or nights come down, the grass is on it's way to green, and the corn in the field has released a sigh of relief!

I've got one more day of freedom from the dreaded J-O-B. But I'll bring in a pay check.

I've gotten a lot done. Got my first ever short story up on Amazon, and that's a big thing. I also finished a novelette, also something to be happy about. That one is what I like to call soft, or psychological horror. A sort of Rod Sterling/Hitchockian thing.

Lately I've been working on other things. Including the fifth book. Well, heck yah! I've added a new character. One thing with a series you need to bring in new blood--so to speak. You need to invent new characters, ones that are different, that bring something new to the story that you have not explored as yet. Oh, and keep those who are loved in it also.

I decided upon a character named Ty Cho. He's human, and he's a deadly black belt. That's what I've got on him so far. That, and he uses the I Ching to guide him, and I'm using his refrence to it in an interesting way in the book.

So, I had to come up with his background and why he's there with Sabrina, and so forth. I used to paint (write) myself into corners. It's a tough thing when you begin a new novel, and begin writing it, and you have a new character--what are you going to do with this one? And before you know it you may have pages of stuff going on that sort of takes you away from your main story.

BAD WRITER!

So, I've learned to recognize when I'm doing this before I get too far afield. I just did this today. I sat back and began asking questions. Like how will Cho make any difference in this story, how will I use him, and why the heck is he there in the first place.

Eeeeewww!

I backed up. Before I began getting into some wild story as to why he was looking for her, I stopped and evaluated my need for him to be with her. He's there as her body guard. He had to have background and a reason for being there in the story at this point, and see if he can come into use later. So, analyze, think. And I've plenty of time, since the 3rd book isn't even out yet, and I'm just sort of letting the 4th one sit a while before I go back to do another read through to see if it needs tweaking. I don't like to write a book quickly--unless it's coming like gang-busters, which last year the first draft of the fourth one did and I got it written in 3 months. That's unusual. And even so, that was a first draft, and I had to add to it, take stuff out... all that.

I'm also sitting here wondering why I can't live on a Caribbean island? Oh, wait. Pooh. Hurricains.

Once Upon a Time...

I was sitting in the backyard this past week, enjoying the sunshine, warmth, birdsong, etc. I usually have my journal with me.

It reminded me of some distant moment in the past--possibly 9 or 10 years ago. I was struggling with getting anything published. I couldn't even get a lousy poem published! I made up my mind to work on poetry first. It seemed the easiest for the moment. Keep in mind I had been writing over 25 years by this time, trying to get a book published/accepted by an agent.

So, I'm sitting there just the other day thinking about how I felt at that far distant time. I was very frustrated, moments of depression overwhelmed me. I figured this was an impossible dream.

That year I did get a poem published. You wouldn't think it would be so hard, but it was. I found a very nice place that gave budding writers a chance. It was nice to have my work accepted. Everything I sent Ruth Brookshire, editor of Weeds Corner was accepted. I published with her journal for 4 years. The pay was little, and then she had to ask people to subscribe. I understood. I simply moved on.

But the novels I tried to get published was not gonna happen. At that time I didn't understand the industry. I understand it better today--how it works--but it got me no closer to finding an agent. The last straw was when I was about to turn 50. You go through menopause, ladies, the injustices of life simply get to you and you decide to take things into your own hands. I was sick of waiting for rejections. Enough was enough.

I decided to self-publish my light fantasy, Spell of the Black Unicorn. I paid to have my book printed up. I formatted the whole thing and drew the picture for it. I was very excited! Finnally my book in print, and there I am in this picture signing them for people in a bookstore, no less!

That was in 2008. Things moved very quickly in the self-publishing industry after that.

Even though I wrote the sequel, I sure couldn't afford to get that done too. Even with $50 off they offered me. I had to move on. Again.

I next worked on my vampire novel. It was something I needed to do--I had always written one and tried to get it published--and so wrote it and tried to find someone who would take it. I thought I had until they offered to edit it for me for $$. The amount was much more than I would have paid to have it self-published. I declined and tried everywhere again. I tried agents again. Stupid me. Hadn't I learned? Agents really are fussy, and it really irked me I had to go through this again. I went an posted the first chapter in sites.

Then, someone saw my first chapter on a site I used to belong to.  He said he found nothing wrong with what I'd written, and to send it to him. He turned out to be my publisher, Wilfried Voss of Copperhill Media, a micro publisher, but a publisher all the same. He saw something in my writing or style and took me on. I've given him my second book, and that's been published. I'm about to send him my third, but I need to get my editing done!

So theres my story behind how I struggled for a very long time--30 years. I did NOT quit. I kept on hoping that someone would find my work interesting enough to take it.

Sure am glad I didn't quit. My husband wouldn't let me anyway. He told me to keep on writing because I LOVED to write, and forget about what anyone else thinks. And that's a good thing to remember. Of course now with being so easy to get your books into smashwords or amazon, I guess it's no big deal. But I didn't want to try and do this all by myself at that time. I'm not sure how I'll feel later. I want to take my rights back for Spell and get it up on some format myself as an ebook so that I have more control of the price and not have to take royalties.

So, here I am, I should be editing my third book in the series. I just wanted to stop in and write about my thoughts on how time goes by and you think back to how things were and look at where you've been. Sometimes things just work out when you least expect it. It's hard to wait things out, but sometimes, in the end, it is all well worth it.

Drafty Drafts & Precarious Situations

Sorry, sometimes my brain can't come up with a suitable title, but maybe this one works.

So, you know how it is. Working along in a WIP, that you've been going through it seems like forEVER. I'm trying to catch some weak passages, or weak phrases that need to go. It's easy to write 'I looked', or 'I felt', when you might want to reconsider what it is you're trying to say.

I've been working through some areas that needed to be cleaned up. I had one place where I'd written: I felt Drachen's breath on my neck. I cleared out I felt and here is how it reads now:
Drachen's breath feathered against my neck. His large, dreamy eyes lingered on the pulse there.

In this third book, Sabrina finds herself in tight confines with Drachen, Jett's cousin--who is with a newly becoming vampire. I've been thrusting the two together, teasing readers with their situation.

In this passage you don't know that their coach just took a spill. They're on a snowy mountain road, and the coach could easily slide off the side of the cliff. I thought to compound the situation where she's having to deal with both, a life altering situation and a life or death situation would hold suspense for the readers. The question posed is which is more dangerous? The vampire, or the precarious place the carriage is in.
Here's a peek at the scene...

We hit a bump. Aljehambra made a half-scream, then went into a full scream as the coach lurched horribly, and then tipped as a grind of steel filled my ears, and men's voices outside shouting something. But it was too late. I saw a body sail past the window as the diligence leaned precariously, then Drachen's body crashed into mine. I heard his startled cry. Horses screamed as the whole thing toppled over on its side. My shoulder was crushed against the side of the coach, and Drachen's weight pressed against my other side smashing me more; it was as though a log had fallen on me. The feeling of being trapped and unable to stop things that were in motion threw me into a panic. Ali's screams punctuated the moment of terror. I wanted to tell her to quit screaming, but couldn't because my own situation called for a scream, but it wouldn't come. The air suddenly forced out of my lungs as we landed with such a hard crash I was certain that something was broken—an arm, a clavicle, perhaps—the pain overriding every other sense—as well as clear thought.  

~*~

CAVEAT: I'm still working on this scene. But I think it's coming along. I need to get rid of a few repeated words, like snow, but I'll get to it.
If you feel the need to comment, fine. If not, just enjoy.
~*~

Something cold hit me in the face and added insult to my various injuries. Confused initially, I thought the glass in the window had broken and cut me. Why was I feeling a cold splash, instead of warm liquid?

Then all motion stopped when I realized what it was that had hit me: cold snow pressed into my face while I was squashed against the side of the coach. I realized the window hadn't broken because it had been down. Now Drachen was on top of me, both of us in awkward positions and I was unable to move because of him pinning me. I realized the coach had stopped sliding.

Now that things had stopped moving, Drachen rolled off me, and his strong arms turned me so that I was now on my back looking up at him. I heard Aljehambra's soft whimpers, and Joha asking her the same thing Drachen asked me.

“Are you alright?” We were both lying side by side on cold snow. I realized snow had poured into the window, and we were half covered in it. If it were not for the warm cloak around me, I'd have been much colder than I was.

“I don't know.” I had to move my arms to see. Nothing seemed broken, but I was sore. “I think so.” I spat snow and hair out of my mouth and Drachen helped brush it out of my face. “Maybe my shoulders are bruised a little.”

“Ali? Joha?”

“We're still alive,” Joha said.

Aljehambra began crying fitfully.

“Quiet, Ali!” Joha said to her and she quieted.

The carriage shifted, then budged a few inches. The sliding sound beneath us hammered into the forefront our precarious situation. Mine and Aljehambra's gasp filled the carriage.

“Don't anyone move!”

I froze with Drachen holding me close. His body fully against mine, I found my face inches from his, his glimmering gaze wandered my features. His gaze stopped at my lips, a brow arched as though the idea of kissing me fully on the lips was overriding the whole idea that we were in a precarious situation, in a life and death situation. It were as if we were alone somewhere else entirely, and I felt his aura and vampire thrall entice me. I held my breath as the sliding carriage stopped, but who knew for how long.

“I won't,” Drachen said in a low whisper in answer to Joha's edict. A smile tipped his lips ever so slightly as he gently stroked my hair, his fingers moved downward to tease the flesh along the column of my neck. I let out my held breath very slowly as I felt myself succumb to his vampire charms—he was getting to me in a big way. A ripple of alarm—more so than when the coach had tipped—shuddered through me. Crapola, what happened to my ring?

“How's Sabrina?” Joha asked.

“I'm fine,” I said stiffly. Drachen's breath feathered against my neck. His large, dreamy eyes lingered on the pulse there.

“Don't even think about it,” I warned, pulling my right hand from the awkward position between us and pressed the hand against his chest.

“What? Kiss you?”

“Right.” I glanced away, realizing that he was pulling a thrall on me. I realized my gloves were on both hands (for warmth), and that's why I couldn't stop him. His aura was stronger than it had been last night. Possibly after having fed on blood he may have become stronger in a vampire way as he morphed from human to vampire. However, he would have to hold my eyes in order to keep me in his thrall, but he didn't seem to know this. Or, rather, I knew this before he could really pull on my desires.

A noise above us made me start. Drachen looked up. The door, which was facing up toward the sky, opened and someone peered down at us. It was one of the coachmen from Drakulya's coach. “Everyone alright?” he had a strange accent.

We all answered that we were alright.

“I hit my head,” Ali complained.

Joha poo-pooed her fussing. “You've had worse scrapes, I think. Remember when you fell off the garden wall when you were ten? Everyone thought you were going to die.”

“This is worse!” she cried stubbornly.

“Come, then. Women first,” the man said. I let Ali go first since this had upset her so.