Originally published at Joely Sue Burkhart. You can comment here or there.

This section comes shortly after the one from last week when Shannari cut the Shadowed Blood up pretty well. If you’ve read The Rose of Shanhasson, you know that Shannari has a deeply ingrained fear when she’s grabbed or threatened from behind (another reason those little touches last week were so significant). Gregar is determined to make sure she’s well able to defend herself if he’s not at her back.

First draft, edited for content to reduce spoilers to the first book in the series.

From the eager look on Dharman’s face as she faced him with a rahke, Gregar had certainly been correct. The boy looked more than happy to receive the same kind of punishment that she

Originally published at Joely Sue Burkhart. You can comment here or there.

The scene I’m writing in Road showed me exactly what a coward I still am sometimes.

Oh, I think I’m so brave. Boldly writing exactly the kind of story I want instead of suffering to fit a square peg into a round hole and wondering why it doesn’t work. Shipping off contest entries to be reamed. Proudly earning the rejection badge of courage with agent query after query shot down. I’ve grown as a writer, nearly five years old now. I know a few things. I’ve survived.

So brave.

And yet when a scene comes along that I’ve been dreaming of for years and years…I cheat. Skipping ahead to this dream-come-true scene, I write the set up, happily, but when I get to the heart of everything this story is, I write a one-paragraph “summary.” I know it’s not right, but I’m so frozen, so full of dread and fear, that I can’t do it. So I let that paragraph ride and I go back to the main story line. I shouldn’t skip ahead, I tell myself, but in reality, I need to write something safer. Assassination attempts, political manuevering, battles, even another sex scene, because hey, that’s a hell of a lot easier than facing the scene I fouled up.

Word by word, page by page, I’ve caught up to that foolhardy cowardly paragraph. I had skipped ahead in my glittering confidence, sure I could bang that “candy bar” scene out; now, I can’t afford to mess around with it. This IS the candy bar scene of scenes. This is what so much of the journey has been about. I can’t mess this up. I can’t sit here and play this scene safe. Safe will kill this story, and if I kill THIS story, then I kill myself as a writer.

I’ve got to hang it all out in the wind and take my punches.

So I did it last night. I finished the brutal scene that should have been a pleasure, a dream come true, and was in fact harder to write than slaughtering a beloved character. The scene’s not right yet, but at least I quit being a coward. At least I took the shot, I took the risk, though I haven’t decided if I hit the basket or not.

I guess in the end, that’s what matters. At least that’s what Gregar told me when he hauled me out of the Well, dripping wet with my lungs full of water. Lying there, gasping for breath and coughing, I realized something. It all seemed so clear (I hear near death experiences do that). I never could have written this scene two years ago, even one year ago. Hell, I barely wrote it now. It wasn’t on the realm of possiblity when I first started out nearly five years ago.

It all began to make sense. Why this story had to take so long to come to fruition. Why I had to dream about it for years. Because in the end, I never could have written it right until I’d suffered and bled and earned the right to be here. All of these years, I’ve been climbing up Vulkar’s Mountain, bleeding a little more each day, and hoping, praying I would reached the top. I almost turned back so many times.

This Mountain has nothing to do with success, not like I thought at first, and everything to do with Seeing, myself most of all.

Last night, I found the lake of fire at the top of the Mountain, I saw the heartfires of the earth dancing toward heaven, and I understood.

Originally published at Joely Sue Burkhart. You can comment here or there.

Since we’ve been talking about a book that really pissed me off last week, I thought I’d do a “readers meme” of things an author does that you as a reader deem Unforgivable. What makes you throw a book against a wall and scream “Never again?”

1. The Imhotep Syndrome: The hero does something unheroic live action in the book, like leaving the love interest behind to die. This is what made the recent book unforgivable for me personally and earned the Imhotep reference. Yeah, Anck Su Namun does leave him to die at the end of The Mummy Returns, and she receives an appropriate recompense. Unless you’re going to kill the hero for payment of such cowardly behavior, this is unforgivable in my book.
2. The “Who Shot JR” Syndrome: Ever since the last episode of the season for House, M.D. (season 2 or 3?) was a dream sequence, only revealed at the end, I’ve refused to watch it. I love musicals but despise Oklahoma! Again, because of that retarded dream sequence. Now if I *know* it’s a dream and the dream ends up crucial to the story, that’s different. But as a reader or viewer, I despise being tricked. (For those of you too young to remember Dallas, the evening sitcom very popular in the 80s, a very large mystery involving “Who Shot JR” was later revealed to be a dream. At least that’s my foggy memory of the show, and if that’s an invalid reference, let’s call this the #$*@ Dream Syndrome.)
3. The “I See Dead People” Lie: I loved Sixth Sense. I loved watching it the first time, completely unawares, and then watching it again and catching the little clues. I get goosebumps when stuff like that works. As a reader, I relish those little crumb trails and follow it eagerly to the Gingerbread House in the center of the woods. I want the Witch there ready to eat the little children. If it’s all just random garbage thrown in there to trick or confuse me, and those little crumbs lead absolutely nowhere? That’s unforgivable with a potty word flying from my mouth as your book hits the wall.
4. The Dr. Who Are you Again?: I don’t actually watch Dr. Who (I’d love to but That Man is too busy watching Matlock and MASH), but one of the kisses of death for me as a reader is when it’s just not memorable. When I’ve been reading the book, put it down to cook dinner, and then have a free half hour to spare between monster baths, dishes, bedtime stories, etc. I look at the book, and I can’t remember the characters’ names. Oops. Why should I pick up that book again? Definitely unforgivable.
5. The Death-By-Chocolate-Caramel-Butterscotch-Banana-Split-Everything-But-the-Kitchen-Sink Soup: Oooh, paranormal is hawt! Lots of sex is hawt! Menage scenes are selling like hotcakes! I’ll throw it all together and make a killer dessert! Who cares if none of it actually makes sense….
6. The Perfect Record Seatbelt Law: We should always follow the speed limit and wear our seatbelts because readers don’t like us to take risks. It’s too shocking and not very politically correct either. Safety first! Meanwhile I’ve smeared ink on my forehead because I fell asleep on the book.

Originally published at Joely Sue Burkhart. You can comment here or there.

I’m going to have to make some tough decisions this year. Looking at my list of everything I want to work on, I’ve realized I simply can’t do it all.

At first, I was rather gloomy about it. If only I had more time, I could finish more projects. But this is my reality. I have to make it work. I have 1-2 hours each morning to write, depending on how early I can drag my ass out of bed. Any time during the evening that I can write is gravy. That’s it.

Meanwhile, April is a page I’ll soon be ripping off my calendar, and the year is slipping through my fingers.

Now that I’m under contract, I have commitments that must be met. That’s a very good thing indeed. That gives me my highest priority. Road will be finished this year. A third Keldari novella will be finished this year. Book 3 in the trilogy will follow on those heels–maybe I’ll write the first draft as my NaNoWriMo novel this year, or at least start it. Next year, Charon’s book for the Mythomorphoses world, unless Deena asks for it over Return to Shanhasson.

I might, if I work really hard the last part of the year, be able to get through revisions on ONE story. One. While I’ll be grinding through editor revisions and promo on two other stories at the same time. In my head right now, I hear the record guy from Walk the Line asking Johnny Cash what’s the one song he’d sing. If he was dying in a ditch and this was his only chance to tell God what he felt about this life…

I love Letters. I do. But. I don’t know that it’s the smartest choice for me right now. Based on recent contest feedback, it might be better shelved. It’s definitely a love it or hate it kind of story and it does nothing for my brand. But. That story’s a gut-wrencher and powerful in many ways. The revision is almost finished. Hmmm. See why I keep waffling?

RHP or Night Sun Rising. Not sure which, yet. The latter has a ticking clock associated with it and I know I’ve seen at least one other similarily premised story announced in Publisher’s Lunch already. Both are rough first drafts. RHP is a departure in many ways for me. Both need so much work it makes my stomach clench with anxiety just thinking about sitting down and locking on to one or the other.

But that’s exactly what I need to do. One of these two stories is a definite must do for the second half of the year. And the rest, well, will just have to be gravy. With a cherry on top. *winks*

Originally published at Joely Sue Burkhart. You can comment here or there.

What a great weekend!

Saturday, I drove down to Joplin (a bit of an achievement because I really don’t like to drive on the freeway, but I didn’t have any problems) to go to a Ren Faire with my Beloved Sis! I got to catch up with Pesh and meet her husband as well as several other friends. They are a hilarious bunch, let me tell you, but with Molly as a friend, I expected nothing less than to come home with my sides hurting from laughing.

Conn was rather disappointed with the weapons demonstrations, but otherwise, it was a lovely day. Not too warm or too crowded. I picked up some neat hair garlands for the monsters with matching magic wands. They’ve been dancing around giving out wishes ever since, but oddly, no laundry or dishes fairy has shown up yet.

I did get a little writing done each day and I’m close to my 30K goal for April. May is forming up to be a brutal month with at least 30K to finish the first draft of Road. I mean, hello, I’m not even ON the Road to Shanhasson yet… However, I’m definitely on the metaphorical Road, and some agonizing events must happen first to force Shannari’s feet onto the Road where she doesn’t want to travel.

I’m just scenes away from Gregar’s heart’s desire. That scene’s been years in the making, and I’m actually dreading it. Lots of expectations and worries twisted together into such a simple scene. I’ll just have to jump into the Well and hope for the best.

A new month is just around the corner. Are you thinking about your goals yet?

Originally published at Joely Sue Burkhart. You can comment here or there.

Soleil Noir has given a terrific review of Rose! She says:

It took me three days to finish reading this book, and I have no doubt the characters and their world will haunt me for the rest of my life.

My hands are still shaking.

I highly recommend

Originally published at Joely Sue Burkhart. You can comment here or there.

I’m cursed, I say, cursed. I’ve had so many computer problems over the years, almost all involving power cords in some fashion. This laptop is not quite a year old yet, but it’s been through hell.

There was the coffee spill… I was sitting outside in the garage while the monsters rode their bikes last summer, and Middle Monster ran into my chair on her bike, spilling coffee all over me and the laptop. Brand new keyboard, but at least the motherboard was fine. However, while it was in the shop, they had to replace the power cord for some reason with a junky replacement one. The original Toshiba cord just quit working.

Then two nights ago, I was sitting here in my green chair writing while That Man watched TV and I heard a strange snapping sound. Coming from my computer. No, coming from the power cord… YIKES. The flexible bendy part had a short in it!

So I went back to the computer place yesterday for yet another cord. At least he had one in stock that does fit, and it’s a better quality one than the other. (Cost me double, too.)

Writers beware: keep my away from your power cords!!

Originally published at Joely Sue Burkhart. You can comment here or there.

I’m working on the first draft of Road with a goal of hitting “The End” by the end of May. Since this is the second in a trilogy, I’m not going to be able to share a lot without giving away huge spoilers. So I will edit these for content to hide certain facts that I don’t want you to know until you read Rose. I know, I’m wicked.

Dharman and Sal are two young men (Dharman’s the oldest at age 15) and they’re making a bit of a nuisance of themselves. Shannari doesn’t quite know how to handle them, but right now, they’re the least of her worries.

Of course, it wouldn’t be a Blood and Shadows world snippet without some Gregar action…

Dharman and Sal had been joined by a third boy with golden hair that glinted in the sun. Grazing nearby, Wind nickered softly, pressing her soft muzzle into Shannari

Originally published at Joely Sue Burkhart. You can comment here or there.

Continuing the discussion from yesterday, yes, I’m still reading the problem book and I’m getting madder. According to a very reliable source, I’m going to be even more pissed once I read the ending, and it has NOTHING to do with whether or not there’s a HEA. I could care less. Seriously. I was all set for this book to NOT be a romance. Whether or not HEA happens has nothing at all to do with my overall enjoyment–or more likely dissatisfaction–with this book.

Let me just get one more thing off my chest.

Riddick is an anti-hero for a reason. Yes, he was going to leave the settlers behind in Pitch Black. He had that power. He didn’t have any moral obligation to them–all he cared about was himself. He chose to go back, not because he felt like it was the right thing to do, far from it. He went back because he could. Because he was the only one who could. That’s why he’s an ANTI-hero. (Yeah, he’s also a murderer, but I still think he’s an incredible character.)

One cannot have a HERO make that same kind of decision and have me believe they’re heroic. A hero cannot leave people behind. I don’t care how scared they are. I don’t care how many times they think “I’m not heroic. I’m not.” YOU, the author, TOLD ME this person was heroic by setting the character up as the protagonist of the story. I don’t care if the hero then has a change of heart and does save said people. I don’t care!! IT’S TOO FRICKING LATE.

Said hero is done for me.

What’s even more alarming? The one left behind was the LOVE INTEREST. I’m supposed to believe they care about each other? Instead, I’m staring at this book like Imhotep at the end of The Mummy Returns as his beloved turns and runs, leaving him to die. Yeah. Real heroic, hun.

Now such a set up might work as backstory — and then the book is about how the hero overcomes this past and grows beyond it. But when such a thing happens live action in the book and then I’m supposed to believe the character grows in the last 100 pages or so? It’s not happening. Sorry.

I’m going to finish the book because I want to see how badly it all ends.

Originally published at Joely Sue Burkhart. You can comment here or there.

There’s a certain kiss of death for me as a reader when I hit a point in the book that makes me STOP.

I’m not talking historical inaccuracies (not sure I’d pick one up unless it was blatant) or poor writing (although definitely that’s a show stopper for me, I typically figure out the author’s style isn’t for me very early). It’s something much more insiduous.

Choices.

I’m reading a book right now that I started on the plane home. I was enjoying it, although it wasn’t as emotional as The Duke of Shadows (which is totally okay–I don’t want every story to be a tear-jerker). The book is different and exciting. It had quite a lot of buzz. I enjoyed the new-to-me author’s style.

Until a certain choice the protagonist made.

I was surprised. I had this expectation built up within me that this book was different. It wouldn’t fall into the same old genre traps. And so when it DID, I was stunned. My expectation was utterly dashed, and now I’m finding it difficult to get back into the story. I still like the characters, the world, the style, but it’s just not the same.

I guess I lost my rose-colored glasses. Or…maybe I was forced to put them back on.

I hate rose-colored glasses. I really do.