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A Sad Day for Drollerie Press

If you haven’t see the official announcement yet, Deena has been very sick for over a year and has decided to close Drollerie’s doors.

I’ll always be grateful to Deena for being the first publisher to give me a shot.  She taught me so much as my editor on those first books!  And her artwork was stunning.

I hope and pray that she’s able to recover enough to enjoy her life once more.  Thank you for dreaming Drollerie, Deena!

I’m working on having new covers made for all my DP books and I’ll self publish them over the next several months.  If you stumble across this site and just can’t wait, please email me (joelysueburkhart AT gmail DOT com) and I’ll happily get you a copy.

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To NaNoWriMo or Not To NaNoWriMo

That is my question this week.

I want to participate in NaNoWriMo very much.  I even scheduled off some nice vacation to help my success.  But in reality, maybe I shouldn’t even try.

I learned last year that trying to handle two shorter projects for the 50K goal just won’t work for me.  Once I finished one project, I had a mental “break” and I couldn’t ever get started on the other in time to hit the end of the month race.  I really struggle to work on more than one project at a time, too.  Once I’m in the zone for A, I find it nearly impossible to do anything at all in B without losing the edge on the first project.

Plus, the projects in my queue right now just are not good NaNoWriMo projects.

Phantom, in progress.  (First mark against it – I already started it).  Targeted length 35K.  (Too short)

Zombie Category Romance, in progress.  (ditto).  Targeted length 25k.  (ditto)

Lord Regret’s Price, not started, premise in my mind, but no plotting done.  Targeted length, 30K.  Sigh.

New project I’ll call “3 Aliens“, vague premise, cool idea but no character names, no worldbuilding, no plotting.  Target length < 30K.  Sigh.

I could go on and on with the shorter projects, all in various stages of work, from premise to some plotting to even started and filed away for whatever reason.  NONE of these will work for NaNoWriMo.

The only project in my queue that would work for NaNo is Mal’s book, tentatively Mine to Break.  However, I have absolutely no plotting done and no real characterization other than the little bits I know from Victor and Vicki.  The length is right though and with Vicki coming in May, I’d really like to get Mal in the pipeline. 

So I continue to waffle back and forth about what to do.  I don’t like leaving two projects in the unfinished file for yet another month or so, because that increases the likelihood that I won’t finish them.  I have to strike while the iron is hot, and it’s already losing its glow just a bit.  Phantom is all plotted out on the wall — but I don’t have the burning desire to work on it.

I’m taking Jenna’s tarot class starting this weekend and I’m hoping that I’ll figure out what to concentrate on.  Otherwise I may have to bow out of NaNoWriMo this year.

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Vote for Ritual Ink at ARe

Voting is now open for the Just One Bite paranormal romance contest at All Romance E-books!  You must be signed in at ARe to vote, but there are TONS of great reads!

Here’s a bit about my contribution, “Ritual Ink”:

Known as “Dirty Deeds” for the dark violence she commits at the Church’s orders, Catherine is a half-demon assassin.  For years, she’s been paired with Father Liam MacRae, who tattoos artistic designs laced with holy water into her skin to help cage her demon.  However, the spells are failing quicker than ever, and Catherine fears the worst.  One of these nights when she goes to the priest for healing, she’ll accidentally unleash her succubus.

On him.

Unbeknownst to her, Liam gave up his oath of chastity when he joined the secret brotherhood.  When violence ceases to keep her hungry demon satisfied, he’s more than eager to feed her passionate side.  If he can overcome her reluctance to commit dirty deeds with a former priest.

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Friday Snippet: Golden

In honor of Golden’s release this week from Carina Press, I thought I’d share a little “behind the scenes” from the writing/editing perspective. 

Even after a book is accepted for publication, there may still be some difficult edits requested by your editor.  In Golden’s case, Alissa suggested that I think about adding something before the first intimate encounter between the Emperor and Jin.  What I had written was a little too abrupt.  There needed to be a little more seduction before the “big event.”

Seems like a simple request…but in reality, it was pretty difficult.  Once I have a story in my head, playing like a movie from beginning to end, it’s extremely difficult to change that timeline.  It’s not as easy as adding a quick scene — I have to know WHY that scene is important.  How does it tie into the main story arc? 

Worse, you know the whole chaos theory effect:  a butterfly flaps its wings in chapter one and a hurricane sweeps through the book and changes the ending entirely.

I didn’t want that to happen — although filtering changes all the way through are necessary in my opinion if the addition is done correctly.  It’s not just a “stick this in here” and go on your merry way sort of change.

What helped me get through this addition was thinking about a DVD extras segment.  What scene could have ended up on the cutting room floor that might have fit into this timeline?  Was there any element that came up later — that I could give some backstory for?  Of course, it had to be more important than backstory.  It had to beat the cutting room floor by becoming MORE meaningful, but that at least got me thinking about things I could add.

Finally, this element seemed to have possibilities:  the Emperor’s golden robe.  It’s mentioned much later in the story and becomes an important symbol of his acceptance.  How much better could I make that symbol if I expanded the background of that golden silk?

This was the outcome.  It also makes the later scenes involving the robe much more significant!  A win all around.

Since I’d last been called to the Emperor’s chambers, I had stitched day and night until my bleeding fingers threatened to ruin the golden silk of his robe. The few times I had left my rooms, I’d worn my hair loose as he’d commanded on the chance that he might take note of my eager obedience. From the strange looks and whispers I’d earned, I might as well have walked down the glittering hallways in no clothes at all.

I don’t care. Let them see me naked, bleeding, as long as it’s for him.

Laboring over his robe until dragons adorned every inch was a small price to pay for his attention. I’d walk across burning coals just to keep that gleam of satisfaction in his eyes.

Kneeling before him, I laid the neatly folded robe between us. “My punishment, Your Majesty.”

He unfolded the silk, spreading the robe out upon his lap with a low sound of approval. “Did you stitch this all yourself? In so few days?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

He traced his fingers along the sinuous creatures I’d created. I’d lost count of the dozens of reels of golden thread I’d added to the robe, doubling its weight. The Empress cluttered her embroidery with gems and beads, but my design relied on only tiny, intricate stitches.

“You may not care for such embroidery, Daughter, but your work is exemplary. This robe is as fine as any I’ve ever had the pleasure of wearing.”

Pride warmed my heart, even though I disliked being relegated back to Daughter. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

He startled me by reaching out to take my hand in his. “Did you sleep at all since last week?”

Flushing, I bowed my head and hoped my hair hid the shadows beneath my eyes. I had slept very little these past days, but not merely because I was determined to finish the stitching before we met again. My mind had been too busy planning how to tempt him deeper into the darkness that threatened to consume me.

His thumb pressed against the pad of my finger still sore from the needle. Through my touseled hair, I watched his face and let a small moan escape.

His eyes narrowed, his nostrils flared, and he pressed harder, his grip tight on my hand.

Pain had a curious effect on me. Most people would have jerked back in an involuntary effort to escape that which hurt them. For me, even a small pain such as this pressure on my raw fingers made me melt. My bones seemed to dissolve. My skin came alive at the promise tightening his mouth into a hard slant and the coldness darkening his eyes.

“Well?” His voice remained soft while his fingers tortured my hand, pressing here and there to find every tender spot. “I didn’t intend for you to lose sleep for this punishment.”

I swallowed down another moan. “What is sleep when you set me to a task, Your Majesty?”

His thumb ground into the heel of my hand where the wooden hoop had worn a groove into my skin.  “I suppose you didn’t eat then, either.”

I bit my lip, fighting to keep my arousal at bay. My thighs trembled beneath me and sweat trickled between my breasts. It’d been so long since I’d been given sensual pain. So very long. My husband had never touched me tenderly or with great passion, let alone this slow exploration of agonized flesh. Did the Emperor know what effect his touch had upon me?

“Here, eat, Daughter.”  He held a small cake to my lips, insisting I take a bite. My mouth was so dry that I choked on the delicate crumbs. I tried to refuse, horrified that he served me with his own hand, but his grip kept me still. His thumb stroked circles against my palm, an intimate touch that made me pant with longing. “You mustn’t neglect your health. What if you carry our heir?”

“The Crown Prince hasn’t touched me in months. That would be impossible, Your Majesty.”

His upper lip curled as though he’d tasted something vile. Reminded of our untenable situation, he released me as quickly as if I burned his skin. “When I became Emperor, I swore to protect my people with everything I possess. How could I do less for my family, which I love above all? I give you my solemn oath, Daughter, that no harm shall come to you from my hand.”

My heart broke at that look of repugnance. Of all people, I’d thought he would most understand what I needed. What he reviled in himself, he would surely despise in me, as well.

Worse, a solemn oath was a serious obstacle to overcome. No man who’d broken his word would see himself as fit to be the Son of Heaven.

“I am already harmed, Your Majesty.” My voice trembled as badly as my hands clasped in my lap. “I’m cursed with a terrible need, and the longer this need goes unanswered, the more I hurt.”

“It’s your husband’s duty to care for you.”

Even before he finished the sentence, I shook my head so hard my hair whipped my cheeks. “He doesn’t even understand that this need can exist, let alone that I bear it. I need to be punished. I need outer pain to take away my inner pain. Only you—”

“Your punishment has been fulfilled,” he broke in before I could finish. “Your workmanship is exquisite. I require nothing else from you.”

I bowed lower, hiding my face with shame. Tears wet my hair and cheeks. How could I face the monotony of palace life without even these weekly visits to brighten my dreary existence? Day after day dressing in my finest silk and painting my face, only to sit in my chambers alone while my husband ignored me and the man I yearned for with every fiber of my being denied my existence?

In a voice I scarcely recognized as my own, I whispered, “Heaven endures, the earth comes to its end, while my unending sorrow goes on and on forever.”

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Revision Xibalba

No Friday Snippet or zombies this week — I’ve been deep in Revision Xibalba, otherwise known as Revision Hell.

Okay, not hell, not really.  Because it’s not been as bad as I feared, not at all.  Of course I’m just now getting to the last 26 pages where I think I need the most work, but the rest was pretty good. 

I don’t want to jinx myself but I really love this story.  There are parts that I have no memory of writing, and I’m shocked, surprised, and thrilled that I wrote it, because it’s so good.  Then I think, wait a minute, I’m not supposed to think that.  Am I?

But it is.  There’s just something sparkling and intense about these characters.  Maybe it’s the first person narrative.  Maybe it’s Tecun Uman the great national hero himself.  But the way this story came together is magical. 

And the humor.  *chuckles*  It’s not blatant slapstick sort of humor, but there are several nods to some of my favorite things, including a joke at my expense.  Remember some of The Bloodgate Guardian discussions I had with Alissa about Ruin?

Ruin?  Honestly, that was the jaguar guy’s name?  I looked up at Tecun’s face, but he didn’t seem perturbed by such a strange name.  I suppose that was easier to pronounce than Itzpapalotl.

“Or Kukulkan,” he whispered silently in my head.  “One of his true names is Xbalanque.

Okay, then, Ruin it was.

 
(Yes, both Ruin and Jaid make a brief appearance as the Gatekeepers of Chi’Ch’ul.)

Natalie (the heroine’s best friend) came out way more interesting than I expected too. So interesting that I can’t leave her hanging like I am in this first draft. Fixing her story thread will be one of the harder threads I need to resolve in these last few pages, but very important.  She deserves better than what I originally gave her.

And the sex.  *wipes brow*  Whew.  I joked to Raelyn the other day that one scene just went on and on and eventually I’d gotten tired in the first draft and simply left the scene because I didn’t know if they were ever going to finish.

Much different than The Bloodgate Guardian, I know.  Ruin and Jaid just weren’t going to get together any quicker, no matter how much I wanted them to.  They had a completely different story to tell.  However, Cassie and Tecun were burning up the page before I even started the first draft.  The Maya elements and research are still there, but whoa is this a sexy story!

Now, I’ve reached the pyramid scene, the culmination of everything that’s happened between Cassie and Tecun up to this point.  This is the scene that generated the ENTIRE story.  Everything came from the sacrifice at the top of El Castillo.

Um, literally.  *winks*

Let’s hope I can pull it off.

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Friday Snippet: Zombie Category Romance!

[Note: I have a new website header, this one created by Jaxadora Design! The other one is still there – just hit refresh or go to another page.  The headers will cycle randomly and yes, MORE are coming!]

I haven’t shared a Friday Snippet in a long time.  Since I’m on a roll with my new project, the Zombie Category Romance (ZCR), I thought I’d share a little of it with you.  I hope you find it as fun as I do!

(First draft, subject to heavy revision later)

Yiorgos Michelopoulos strode into the steamy kitchen of his most recently acquired restaurant and everyone began disappearing.  Wait staff scurried out the swinging doors, presumably to attend to Remy’s guests, but since the dining room was empty—and had been every night for months—they had no cause for haste.

Other than escape. 

The sous-chef backed away, finding a hiding place in the large refrigerator.  Yiorgos hoped the man froze to death.

The only employees brave enough to remain in his presence were Paul, the acclaimed executive chef he’d sent here two weeks ago to turn things around, and Dmitri, the manager of the restaurant and one of his closest friends.  Dmitri had left his prestigious job at a premiere New York hotel and moved his wife and kids to Missouri in order to help him.

Despite its remote location, Remy’s was proving to be the most formidable nightmare they’d ever faced.

Without saying a word to either of them, Yiorgos picked up a spoon and sampled the sauce bubbling on the immaculate stove.  The rich béchamel curdled on his tongue like spoiled cream.  Furious, he threw the spoon into the stainless steel sink.  “Disgusting.”

“I know.”  Paul moaned, wringing his hands in his stained apron.  “I don’t understand it, Mr. Michelopoulos.  I cook my most treasured dishes and everything turns out bad, very bad.  This whole place is cursed.”

Grimly, Yiorgos twisted the signet ring digging into the pinky finger on his right hand.  The restaurant isn’t the only thing cursed.

If only he hadn’t put the ring on his finger.  He’d forgotten the damned thing even existed after winning it from Emile Remy nearly two years ago, along with his restaurant he’d stubbornly refused to sell.  Yiorgos had possessed everything he could possibly want, including the five-star status he and Remy had battled over for years.  When his luxury hotel casino in Kansas City had won again last year, he’d put the ring on for spite, to celebrate his ultimate victory.

Which had triggered a curse the likes of which he’d never known possible.

“We have to shut it down.” 

Dmitri’s words made him whirl around with a snarl twisting his face.  “I’ve never closed a restaurant in my entire life, let alone this…this…” 

Frustrated, he waved his hand at the small kitchen.  On the surface, Remy’s wasn’t worth his time and effort.  Even at full capacity, the dining room would barely seat one hundred guests.  At the height of its success, the restaurant had been lucky to pull in a few grand a night.  A drop in the bucket to a man with enough money to buy every restaurant in this entire one-horse Midwestern town.

Yet for nearly a decade, Remy’s had claimed exclusive five-star status, despite Yiorgos’s efforts to wrest the prize for his own hotel’s restaurant.  Only after he’d put on this accursed ring had Yiorgos learned the secret to Remy’s seemingly impossible success.

Now Yiorgos owned hundreds of hotels and restaurants across the globe, yet he couldn’t keep one lousy ma-and-pa diner open.  Fury made him grate his teeth.  Barely holding his curses in check, he stalked into the manager’s office. 

Dmitri followed him and quietly shut the door.  “How are you holding up?”

In the privacy of the small office, Yiorgos allowed his shoulders to slump.  Weary of hiding and worrying and plotting to save his life and this pitiful restaurant, he ran a hand through his hair.  “Nothing’s fallen off yet, if that’s what you mean.”

His friend blanched, which made a small twinge of regret tighten his chest.

“It’s that bad?”  Dmitri asked in a choked voice.

Without turning completely around to face his friend, Yiorgos slipped the signet ring off his pinky.  He looked back over his shoulder, allowing Dmitri to see the decay eating away his face.  It might only be an illusion, a spell the late Emile Remy had managed to throw upon him before the man lost everything, but without the ring, he would soon look like a walking corpse.

“Dear God.  What are you going to do?”

Slipping the ring back on, Yiorgos allowed a small smile to curve his lips, but neither his face nor his resolved softened.  “The Wizard Council claims only someone of Remy’s blood can lift the curse.  Since he’s dead, the only person left of use to me is his daughter.”

“Wizard Council.”  Dmitri let out an uneasy laugh.  “I never knew such a thing existed.  If you hadn’t shown me what happens when you take the ring off, then I never would have believed you.  Do you think Remy’s daughter can help you?”

“She will.” Yiorgos promised in the silky menace voice he used for the hardest negotiations.  “Regardless of what I must do to learn the witch’s secrets, she can and will help me.”

 

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Writers Page

Tonight, I added a new page to the site and adjusted the menu a bit to reorganize.  If you’re looking for the various templates, worksheets, etc. that I’ve used over the years, they can now all be found on the Writers page! 

Note:  this includes the new Mind Mapping templates that I created the other day as I was plotting the ZCR.

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Writing When You Can’t Write

Since last Friday, I’ve had very little brain power.  The doctors said my O2 levels were decreased but good — otherwise they would have definitely hospitalized me this week.  I don’t know if it was simply the fever burning out my brain cells or if my body instinctively knew it needed to conserve itself, but I just haven’t been able to THINK.

No Big Fish Games.  No reading and very little hand crafts because my eyes hurt too much from the fever.  I tried to make some crocheted slippers for my SIL’s sister, and I’m ashamed to say how many pairs I had to make before I finally got a set that I thought would fit her.  (The fourth pair fit.)

I didn’t even try to open my laptop for days.  I knew it was useless.

So how does one occupy the mind of a writer for an entire week when actual WRITING is out of the question?

When I was sick, I obviously didn’t even try.  But as I started to recover these past two days, I’ve felt the beginning of the desire to work again.  It’s still too early — just as it’s too early for my stomach to handle coffee again (I’ve tried twice but it just hasn’t tasted right yet).  I wanted to come up with another series to begin building after the current slate of work is done.  This kind of work is fun and engrossing, a danger when I’m trying to draft new words (because it’s distracting), but ideal for when I don’t feel like I can string words together in a coherent manner.

I pulled out a brand new colorful notebook that made me feel good and just started writing down words I like.  Just a word association game.  In the back of my mind, I knew the basic genre I wanted to shoot for.  My goal is to write something that further cements my ongoing brand that I’m working harder to build.

That led me to some interesting elements I hadn’t thought of yet.  While I was pulling together information for my website header — mostly links to images that inspired me in some way — I found that I really enjoy Venetian carnival masks.  Hmmm.  How can I use them?  What would that mean?

I’m finally able to do a little online reading without my eyes complaining too much, so I allowed just a bit of research.  Mostly, though, I just jotted loose ideas on paper.  I don’t have much of anything but the itch in the back of my brain that swears the idea is just beneath the surface, almost ready for me to chisel out into an intriguing book.

I hope.  😉

Soon I ought to be able to string words together again, but in the meantime, this has been a fun exercise I usually don’t allow myself to dwell on too long because I’m too busy.

What do you do when you can’t write?