Real Life

March 31, 2011 | Real life

Optimism gets me in trouble fairly regularly. But I haven’t been able to give up on looking for the silver lining in every cloud.

Where a hopeful outlook hurts me the most is in scheduling. When I calculate how long anything is going to take, my estimate is pretty darn accurate. Where I go wrong, over and over again, is in the naive assumption that nothing will go wrong.

Something always goes wrong. Even a rosy-glasses girl knows that much. Hence when I commit to a definite date, whether it’s to have a story done, or to get the car serviced, I double the estimated time required. And it’s still challenging to make the deadline.

Are you and optimist or a pessimist? And how’s that choice working for you?

WIP Wednesday

March 30, 2011 | WIP Wednesday

What I should have guessed, but never did until I started writing for publication, is that only half of my writing time is actually fresh, creative writing–the good stuff.

The rest of my writing time is spent revising, editing, and polishing.

Writing the right words, in the right order the first time would make a huge improvement in my productivity,, but I haven’t managed it–yet.

How’s your job going?

Teaser Tuesday

March 29, 2011 | Teaser Tuesday

Without posting any spoilers, I can tell you that Aegis, Jaxon, and Cami have at least a guest appearance in a future demon world story. I don’t even know the new heroine’s name, but I’ve seen her and she breaks my heart with her courage.

I have to write her story, the only question is when.

Music Monday

March 28, 2011 | Music Monday

Each Monday this month, I’ve shared the musical version of Cami’s adventure–Into the Fire describes the final steps of her journey.

Sunday funnies

March 27, 2011 | Sunday funnies

see more Lolcats and funny pictures

Six-pack Saturday

March 26, 2011 | Six-Pack Saturday

Six innovations I’d like to see

1) Personal transport–strap-on blasters, transporter, or hovercraft–I really don’t care. I’m adaptable. But let’s end the whole highway, fossil fuel mess

2) Renewable power sources, sunlight, wind, and tides–there has to be ways to harness all that wasted energy

3) Replicators–I’m definitely ready for the next stage in food prep and shopping

4) On line voting–how hard could that be?

5) Universal health care

6) Universal human rights

Too far fetched? Too idealistic? What changes would you like to see in the near future?

Fan Girl Friday

March 25, 2011 | Real life

Finding a terrific, but unknown-to-me, author is always a thrill. If that author has a hefty backlist, then I’m in heaven.

Now that I write, I don’t read as much as I used to, so I can get by with a hundred or so good books a year. With a healthy library of keepers that I don’t mind rereading, the need for new titles is further trimmed. Still searching for my next great read remains one of my favorite indulgences.

Amazon and Kindle make sampling easy. But before I download a sample, I have to discover the title or the author. A clever cover can lure me close enough to read more. When an intriguing story catches my interest, I wandered off to the author’s site in search of excerpt. This happened recently and there was nothing there for me read. After several pointless clicks, I moused on over to the publisher’s website, thinking there I would surely find the teaser I wanted–nary an excerpt–not one.

I’m still thinking about this unexpected disappointment. Perhaps the author is a much bigger deal than I realized. After all many perennial best sellers have a glamor shot on their back cover in place of copy. Who needs blurbs when you’re a household name? But an e-publisher doing away with excerpts? I’m aghast.

Do you read excerpts first or just click the buy button?

Real Life

March 24, 2011 | Real life

I think Swampy, my contrary muse, is seeing other writers. How could he?

Sure we’ve had a few disagreements over the years (he’s incredible arrogant and stubborn), but we’re a team–me, Swampy and the domme with the flogger that claims she’s my internal editor, just another thrill seeking sadist if you ask me, but I digress.

I count on Swampy to raise his massive head from the depths whenever I need him with the perfect plot twist, the hidden motivation, and most of all the clever resolution to characters hanging from a cliff edge that I tend to write.

When I first read a familiar phrase in another author’s book, I brushed it aside with a breezy great minds and all that jazz. The second time I found another telltale bit of prose I’d thought was mine alone, my faith in Swampy’s loyalty wavered.

I couldn’t help notice that he’s gone for long period of time, never around for holidays, or weekends. Lately even when he’s home, he’s exhausted and not in the mood to work.

A sick feeling that I’d been a fool to trust a cheating muse began to seep in. Soon I began questioning everything he did. Every disappearance seemed ominous. The third time I read one of his trademark twists in another writer’s novel I cried myself to sleep for a week. Then I decided to fight back. Swampy can’t resist steamy scenes. Maybe I can keep him too busy to think about cheating. Or maybe I’ll find a new bad-tempered, hard-headed, arrogant louse of a muse.

WIP Wednesday

March 23, 2011 | WIP Wednesday

After a few months of living with the werewolf pack, the current story rollis toward the final twist. Am I happy? Nope, I’m clicking away at the keyboard with tears streaming down my face, because after everything they’ve been through they still aren’t together.

Maybe next week, Swampy will grace us with a solution and we’ll be at the happy tears stage.

Teaser Tuesday

March 22, 2011 | Teaser Tuesday

Just for dangerously sexy fans, here’s a special excerpt from Camille’s Capture.

Before she had a chance to lose her nerve, a shiny bronze android rolled out to greet her. “This way, miss.” The mechanical voice directed her to a scanner inside the cool foyer. The ornate entry was even grander than the embassy’s.

As soon as her right iris was scanned and passed inspection, the droid herded her along, ushering her into a vast inner chamber. The room was big enough to house an intergalactic ship, perhaps more than one.

The walls appeared to be made of some seamless white rock. The ceiling, four times the height of a towering warrior, framed an elaborate mural depicting the Sirius Galaxy. Mythical gods of war glowered at her from the four corners. Gold script in an ancient tongue bordered the edge of the giant painting.

She caught a glimpse of a raised dais and a couple bowing to an elder before she joined the line of waiting women. The native women were stunning, slender, and almost as tall as their men. When she looked ahead, all she saw were backs.

Those graceful backsides swayed and angled as the women in front of her craned for a better view of the ceremonies. All of them wore elegant white gowns. Some were frothy, some severe, and some elaborately decorated. Only she wore the formal robes of a Bon Sorority breeder.

Under her elaborate costume, her new tattoo itched.

Hushed conversations mixed with nervous laughter as the other women chatted. Their teasing familiarity reinforced the fact that she was the alien — a short Earth woman dressed in strange handcrafted robes among the exotic natives, far from home and very alone. Sorority disciples had embroidered her robes with loving care, spending hours on working in the ancient fertility charms. She stretched her spine and lifted her chin, making every millimeter of her height count in order to carry the formal robes with pride.

On the opposite side of the vast room, a long line of warriors matched the column of women. Some wore dress uniforms, others dark, formal robes. She darted curious peeks at them. It was the first time she’d gotten more than a glimpse of an actual man. Holograms hadn’t done them justice. Dear goddess, they were big, very big, and even fiercer than she’d imagined.

Her courage faltered, but she stiffened her spine. She was a Bon Sorority breeder. These warriors had viable seed. Nothing, especially not her own case of foolish nerves, was going to keep her from fulfilling her destiny to reproduce. She longed for a babe of her own to love, but there was more at stake. The sorority needed males to ensure the survival of their race.

Every few minutes the lines surged forward as another couple met, made their vows, and received their sanctioned mating marks. With each step closer to the ceremony, her knees seemed to dissolve a little more until they felt like water.

And with each step closer to the mating ceremony, her plan to return to Earth once pregnant seemed more foolishly optimistic. Every warrior in the chamber looked ready and able to defend his mate. The little she’d learned of warriors had taught her they were prone to violence and fanatically protective of their mates and babes.

She knew nothing about either of the warriors she’d been matched with, but she wasn’t enough of an optimist to believe they’d be radically different from the rest of New Eden’s men.

Younglings were adored on this alien world, especially by their fierce warrior fathers. She couldn’t imagine one of these males agreeing to her leaving for Earth with his babe. How could she break a man’s heart by stealing his child? Even if the youngling was half hers, abducting the babe didn’t seem right.

With a start she realized the line had ended. She stood alone.

Around her, happy couples neared and retreated in a dance of anticipation. Feminine voices blended with deeper male tones. Dozens of different fragrances, including her own clammy perspiration, added to her queasiness.

All the pairings were one man with one woman. Why then was she matched to two warriors? Was her mating notice a tragic mistake? Gathering her ebbing courage, she crossed to the dais on shaky legs, grateful for the stiff skirts and the heavy veil masking her terror.