Category: The Writing

So I won’t lie – the last few days have been TOUGH.

It’s been a combination of many things:  week two slump, several crucial sex scenes, and shaky character arc that required me to go back and tweak a few things.  This isn’t the time for revision, but I had to get a few “points” on the character graph clear in my mind so I could see where I needed to map the next point. 

I’ve struggled to concentrate.  I sit down and want to do ANYTHING but write.  Check Twitter!  Check my e-mail for the thousandth time (having key submissions outstanding doesn’t do much for my willpower to stay out of gmail)!  I even sat down and wrote the promo letter, gathered up all the mailing supplies, labels, etc. and got my ARCs ready to mail out.  Friday, I got my PO Box, so exciting, so now I need to print out some return address labels, then my packages will be ready to go.

But through it all, I’ve touched at least Victor every single day.  (Okay, that sounds dirty.  You know what I mean.)  I may have only gotten 300 words in two hours, but I kept chiseling away at the file, even if that meant a single paragraph a few days back to clarify something.  I’m still in good shape for NaNoWriMo and slightly ahead of the midway point.  Hopefully I can keep that small margrin.  My numbers over the weekend have slowly crept up — I cleared 1400 words today, which is a mountain compared to the last week or so.

I haven’t written in Deathright for several days.  I finished Act I and ended with a cliffhanger.  Now it’s like my brain needed time to let all that sink in.  I know what happens next — generally.  It’s just a matter of getting back into that story when I’m ready.  As tough as Victor has been, I’ve been afraid to leave him because I didn’t want him to go cold on me.  He’s my priority, even if I’m dying to write the other story too.

NaNoWriMo total:  27, 487

Snippet:  This is a bit from the rough stuff I wrote tonight – totally unedited.  The Dominants are displaying the “reward” for the reality show:  their collars.  Georgia is the hostess of the show.

Georgia smiled for the camera and reached out to pluck Victor’s velvet away herself.  “Oh, folks, just wait until you see what Master V has hidden beneath this cover.  It’s so gorgeous, I’d almost try out his crop just to have the opportunity to wear it.  May I?”

Victor inclined his head and let her pull the velvet aside.  The camera panned in to get the full effect of the large glittering diamond V. 

Georgia fluttered her hand out toward the diamonds.  “How many carats?” 

He smacked the crop down an inch from her hand and she snatched her fingers back, her eyes snapping with outrage.  “Enough.” 

 

Finally, some decent progress!  But only in Deathright.  I need to sit down with Victor and jot some notes tomorrow before getting started.  I’m really loving Majel and could almost make a book just for her.  Actually…  Grrr!  Finish the current book, dear Muse, and then we can talk, okay?

Today: 2,452

NaNoWriMo: 24,628

Snippet:  I don’t want to give away too much of Majel’s incredible story.  A lot of today’s words were telling her history — which I might have to change as too infodumpy.  On the plus side, it’s not “As you know, Bob” because Murray has no idea of the truth.  Worst case, I don’t include any of this in the final story, but *I* have to know it.

Majel closed her eyes and took a long draw of the fine wine, hoping it would still her nerves.  “I didn’t make the connection that the nanobots may have introduced new DNA…Until my mother tried to kill me.”

Murray sat up so quickly she almost dropped her goblet.  “What?”

“She ordered me to meet her on the Tower roof,” Majel lifted her chin slightly, indicating the ceiling above.  “I thought it was odd.  After all, if she wanted to speak to me, why not order me to her chambers, or at least come to mine?  But like a trusting lamb to slaughter, I met her upstairs.  That’s when she told me she was going to disown me and my heirs.  I was upset, obviously, swinging from rage to worry to fear.  What would I do?  Where would I go?  Why had I risked my life for nearly a decade in her war, only to be exiled from my homeland?  We were arguing when she shot me.  She emptied the gun into my head and chest, the whole time muttering that it wasn’t enough.” 

So my great progress has been slowed a bit — and I’m okay with that.  That’s why I was trying so hard to get ahead!

However, I wrote myself out of my comfort zones in both stories, for different reasons.

In Victor’s story, I thought HE was going to give me the most trouble.  I mean, hello, the man likes to use his crop and I have noooooo knowledge of how that might play out.  Other than being reluctant and stressed out, Victor has been fine.  It’s SHILOH who is now driving me nuts.  I joked with Sis this past weekend that I had to type her scenes with my eyes shut.  She has such a potty mouth and is sooooo beyond any heroine I have ever written before.  This gal knows exactly what she wants and she isn’t afraid to tell Victor in every single dirty word she knows.  At first it was hilarious because of Victor’s reaction.  Now, geez, it’s hard to type so much with my eyes closed.

In Deathright, I decided that to make this book BIGGER and fit into the overall scheme of the world I’m building, that I should add Her Majesty the Queen of Britannia to the mix.  Great idea.  Waaaaay too much work at this point in the game, because it requires a huge over-arcing story thread that was only a vague idea in the back corner of my mind.  It took me a couple of tries, both jotting notes and opening a new file, to figure out what’s going on in her mind, and WHOA.  She blew me away.  I adore her already, and I never expected to.  To be honest, she’s supposed to be an antagonist, or at least a morally-questionable trickster character who makes the protagonists’ lives more difficult, but I love her.  Which is a good thing, obviously, since she’s a major character and needs to stick around for several books.

The little bits with Murray tugged on my heart in a totally unexpected way.  Love it when that happens.

The other thing going on:  I sent out a new submission package last night, so I needed to revise my synopsis and query, pull everything together, obsess and stew over every little word, etc.  However, that’s off my plate and I can concentrate.  Well, I still need to do that PR letter.  Grrrr.  But otherwise, it’ll be Victor and Deathright this week.

NaNoWriMo total: 22,176

Snippet: this is from the Majel file.  By the way, most of the characters’ names have a very special or deliberate reference.  Murray in particular I chose because he was Byron’s and Shelley’s publisher.  Now the character on page has absolutely nothing to do with that, but it was a subtle nod to the period and what I’m doing.  Majel’s name is also a nod to someone, as is Catrionia.  Others I just like and made up, e.g. Zang, pronounced Zane-guh.

Murray bowed with a smart clip of his heels as she picked up the datapad, but he lingered in her presence.  She’d known him for decades and trusted no one as much as she trusted him, but the man looked positively petrified, pale, sweaty, and kneading his hands.

Her eyebrows rose with alarm.  “What is it, Murray?”

“I beg your pardon, Your Majesty, but I have more troubling information.”

“More bad news, or something more troubling than a planet’s assimilation without my orders?”

“The latter, Your Majesty,” he said, bowing even lower.  “Bordering on a personal issue, I’m afraid.”

“I see.”  She set the datapad aside and gestured to the chair beside her desk.  “You have my complete attention.”

Murray sat, all long elbows and bony knees, so that he looked folded and scrunched in the low chair.  He toyed with the cravat tied at his neck, demolishing his mech’s careful artwork.

“Murray, you’re being very silly.  How many years have you known me?”

“I came into your service sixty three years ago, Your Majesty.”

Yet he looked nearly the same as she remembered, with only a few lines about his eyes and a sprinkling of gray at his temples.  Surely the dedication and care he’d lavished on her all these years deserved a few rewards, such as the vitality and youth enhancing techniques perfected at MIGS.  She might not approve of Stryker’s methods, but she was forced to admit that she personally and Britannia as a whole had prospered and flourished with MIGS’s miraculous inventions.

“Surely after all these years, you’re not afraid to tell me the truth.”

“Of course not, Your Majesty.”  A faint smile tugged at his lips and a ghost of the man she’d taken to her bed after her heirs were born nearly thirty years ago tugged at her heart as well.  “I know you rely on me for that very reason.  Yet I’m reluctant to tell you this because I know it will hurt you deeply, and I’ve no wish to upset my queen more than she must already be after this day’s events.”

She reached over to take his hand in hers and merely held him, waiting for him to find the words.

“I have reason to believe that Princess Elinor is conspiring against you.”  Murray raised tormented eyes to hers.  “She is spreading dire rumors among the nobles, claiming that you are unfit to rule because,” he stole a quick, furtive glance at her hair mixed with feathers, “you have gained an unhealthy fascination with the crows roosting on top of the Tower.”  He swallowed in a loud gulp.  “She means to have you assassinated.”

This weekend was definitely tougher going than the first week.  I finally had to [cheat – fill this in later!] because the scene just wasn’t jiving in my mind.  See the posts on Writing Transformative Sex why certain scenes can be difficult for me.  I didn’t have two characters just falling into the sack.  I had two characters who were afraid, confused, lost, upset, SOMETHING.  I needed the emotion and I couldn’t put my finger on the “journey” inherent in the scene.  Not exactly.  So I broke voice and just typed out a few ideas I had on my mind and I’m going to move on.

Sometimes, for a first draft, you just have to move on and finish the damned book.  Later, in revision, I may find I don’t even need that scene.  For this book, I think I will — but I’m hoping to have a better handle on the sexual journey after the next “day’s” events unfold.

In Deathright, I decided that to make this story fit into the overall world I’m building that I should also introduce a thread for Her Majesty.  But then I immediately stumped myself, because I can’t write a scene for a character when I’m not clear on her motivations.  Oh, in general, I know things, thanks to the plotting of Seven Crows.  But I also got stuck in that little story.  I knew something wasn’t right, and it has to do with the Queen and her story.  Every character is the star of her/his own story, so I need to know what her goal is.  Exactly.  In excruciating detail!  I didn’t feel comfortable writing in the main file, so I started a new document to type out ideas and see what I get.

Today, I need to write a PR letter.  I hate PR letters.  I can write all day about people who only exist in my mind, but I hate writing about myself.  I really need to get some ARCs out, though, and I have no excuse, other than a reluctance to get this letter done.

I don’t have individual file word counts handy (plus it’s complicated now that I started a THIRD file!) so I’ll just go with the total NaNo counts.  Victor did break 40K last night so I’m definitely past the halfway mark.  (I’m targeting 70k, about the same as Dear Sir, I’m Yours.)

NaNoWriMo total:  20,484

Snippet:  I’ll show you how I “cheat” when I haven’t finalized the worldbuilding details yet.  This is a bit from the Queen’s POV for Deathright and is ROUGH.  I don’t just throw names at stuff — I try to make them mean something — and I have no idea how Sublime Space has been laid out yet.  Details, details.

As soon as her advisor stepped into her chambers, Queen Majel knew by the tightness of his face and stiffness of his shoulders that he approached with foul news indeed.  She threw the datapad down on her desk and rubbed her aching temples.  “Another planet has fallen to MIGS.”

“I’m afraid so, Your Majesty.”  Seneschal Murray activated the viewscreen and brought up a chart of [Gamma Sector].  “Lady [name] notified me moments ago of an SOS signal we intercepted from [planet].”

Friday, I had a pretty good tally in Victor going with 1,929 words.  I planned to switch to Deathright in the evening and get a little more words, but it just didn’t happen.  By the time the monsters got to bed, I was so tired that I went to bed too, and then slept almost 10 hours straight.

Yesterday, I knew we had family coming over for dinner:  my Dad, my sister, and Uncle J (That Man’s youngest brother) and Aunt BB.  I needed to get the kitchen presentable as well as start the crockpot of ham and beans that I’d promised, and then my Dad showed early, which is always a treat (but kept me from writing before company showed).  We picked up the monsters’ old-time pictures I tweeted about a few weeks ago, grabbed lunch, and drove to two different places in order to find our dog’s food (long story).  We pulled in our driveaway and Molly had been waiting for us long enough to pull out a book while sitting our front step. 

We talked, drank coffee, watched the monsters try to kill each other, drank more coffee, etc.  Dinner was simple but delicious.  Before Sis headed out I was already yawning (despite the number of cups of coffee I’d had!), and so I wasn’t very productive last night.  I did open my file and wrote a handful of sentences, but that was it.

So I got up early this morning before church and wrote a few hundred words.  Not much, but enough to finish the scene I was in and get a little bit of a headstart before football sucks up the rest of the day.  I need to jot notes for the upcoming scenes.  For Victor, I know the “show” scenes, but I don’t know the off-the-show scenes very well, other than vague notes.  I need to know the PURPOSE.  What’s at stake, who’s doubting, who’s afraid, etc.   The external plot is progressing nicely, but it’s the internal arc I need to watch.

NaNoWriMo total right now:  17,915 words.

Snippet:  I have Victor open, so I’ll give just a small snippet from there that won’t mess up the Friday Snippet flow.

“The first trailers are running on VCONN tonight too.”

 “Then it’s to be too late for your mole to leak the show’s details–we’re going to be baring it all ourselves.”  She paused, her eyes sparkling mischievously.  “You did call and warn your mom, right?”

Victor groaned.  “I’ll call Mama right now.  God help me.”

Good progress in DEATHRIGHT today, meager progress on Victor, so I’ll start there tomorrow.  I had all sorts of fun today and ended with threats of blackmail. 

Today:  3,117

Victor: 37,075

Deathright: 12,625

NaNoWriMo total: 15,303

Snippet:  Just a short one tonight, since tomorrow’s a Friday Snippet!

General Aurelius Stryker bowed as low to Her Grace the Duchess of Araknae as he would Her Majesty the Queen of Britannia.  The only difference: he bedded Her Grace while planning to assassinate Her Majesty.

I’m pretty groggy tonight (so hopefully I’ll sleep well–no espresso after 6:30 PM!) – and I managed to confuse myself on which backup file I was using, so hopefully I got my numbers all straightened out!  It’s hard enough keeping one story straight, let alone two.

Wonderful breakthroughs today.  The scene that was giving me fits in Victor was finally resolved.  Whew, intense, emotional, and totally worth the slower grind the last few days.  Over 2K for Victor, and then I switched to Deathright and discovered some really cool things there, too.  For one thing, Captain Zang’s theme song is now My Immortal by Evanescence.  Love that song, but I’ve never had the *perfect* character for it–until now.

Great day but my wrists are killing me.  I even managed to get a walk in with the monsters tonight!

Today: 3,925

Deathright: 10,098

Victor: 36,499

NaNoWriMo total: 12,186

Snippet:  Continuing the section in Deathright:

At last, they reached Wheel A of the docking stations.  Two other circular stations hovered above, high in the atmosphere and connected by a steel and glass tube of elevators and plazas.  Large enough to moor a deep-space vessel, Wheel C was reserved for the Imperial shipments from Britannia.  Wheel B was less grand but more heavily populated, harboring countless vessels from all over the galaxy.  To encourage trade, a large shopping mall awaited just off the docking ports where one could buy the latest technological wonder or sell a “specimen” to research.

To avoid the wretched sight of caged and chained peoples from all over the galaxy who would soon be parted from their DNA, he’d docked less than an hour ago in Wheel A.  With the General’s offices—and hundreds of armed mechs—mere moments away, most ships avoided A despite its easier access.  He’d planned to stay only long enough to pick up his next orders, but Lady Araknae must have been waiting for him.

Why me, he wondered, recalling her taste fluttering on the back of his tongue.  Her desperation had been as real as her fear and mistrust. 

A white-haired man in a formal MIGS uniform bearing a single golden star on his shoulders waited outside the Skog with a traveling trunk and a small silver box.

Lady Araknae hugged the man, who whispered in her ear—but not low enough to escape Zang’s acute hearing.  “Are you sure, Daughter?”

“Yes,” she replied, squeezing him.  “We won’t get another chance.”

The man straightened and turned his narrowed gaze on Zang.  “Can we trust him?”

“We must,” she said simply. 

Zang whistled and Grubber stuck his head out of the hold.  “Take this cargo to my suite.”  Lady Araknae bristled, until he smiled in a frightful display of sharpened fangs.  “We have yet to discuss the price, my lady.”

Grubber reached for the shiny box first, but Lady Araknae scooped it up.  “Father?”

“The funds were transferred to the MIGS office as soon as you notified me where to bring your trunks,” the man replied.  “You hold the indenture for the Skog in the palm of your hand.”

And my very life.  Zang watched their farewell silently.  Her father wept openly as though he never expected to see his daughter again.

“Where are you going?” 

“It’s better if you don’t know.  We must leave now, Father, before someone notices the disruption in that particular examination room.  Destroy every single trace of our research.”

“It’s already done.”

As he led the way onto his ship, however, Zang couldn’t help but wonder exactly what was hidden in that silver box gripped so protectively in Lady Araknae’s arms. 

 

This morning, I started in DEATHRIGHT since that’s where my mind was after the “reward” last night, and then tonight, I buckled down for the real work in Victor.  All in all, a nice productive day, and I have notes sketched out for both stories to cover me another day or so.

That’s key for me:  when I have 10-15 minutes down time waiting on dinner (or the coffee pot!), I jot notes.  Tonight, I realized I needed to explore a secondary character for whom I knew nothing but his name.  In a matter of minutes, I came up with a nice backstory for him that will hopefully add depth and enrich the story.

Today:  2,382

Deathright: 8,203

Victor: 34,454

NaNoWriMo Total:  8,261

Snippet:  Continuing from last section of DEATHRIGHT.

Long seconds went by without interruption.

“I want to see your ship, Captain Zang.  I’m most curious about your Razari engines.”

“Of course, my lady.”  He inclined his head as he’d been taught.  During basic training, all conscripted species were civilized with a blast of electric shock fierce enough to stop their hearts until they showed the proper respect for their betters.  “Allow me to escort you.”

He held out his arm as though he were a gentleman asking permission to escort his lady to the ball.  Head high, she lightly laid her fingers on his forearm.  The door whooshed open and they stepped outside.

“My lady!”  The robot-man sounded as shocked and horrified as though his lady had been mauled and eaten alive.  “Do you need assistance?”

Although the mech was nearly as tall as Zang, the woman on his arm managed to peer down her nose at the soldier.  “Not at all.”

The mech blocked the hallway.  Zang tensed, automatically cataloguing the soldier’s weapons.  Two long, steel barrels lined the mech’s right arm, each carrying six explosives strong enough to collapse an entire wing of this structure.  On his hip, he wore a smaller revolver more appropriate for individual targets.  One shot from that seemingly insignificant gun would be powerful enough to short out Zang’s nervous system for hours.  If the mechs were armed with nanobots…

Zang let out a long hiss of aggression.  If he lays a single finger on the revolver, I’ll rip his throat out.

“What is your designation, soldier?”  Lady Araknae barked in a voice that stiffened the mech’s spine.  “Must I remind you that I am the Duchess of Araknae’s sole heir and that I also sit on the Board of Directors, carrying a dozen degrees in the sciences, the same as my esteemed father, General Lizbonne?  You are interfering with my research, sir!”  She tapped several commands into her datapad, peering at the soldier’s number plate.  “I ought to have you wiped on the spot.”

“Forgive me!”  Babbling, the mech scrabbled out of her way, cupping his once-human hand over his identification number.  “Excuse me, my lady.  I merely wished to protect you.  Do continue your research.” 

She sniffed loudly and marched down the hallway.  Beneath her breath, she whispered, “Keep your head down.  Try to look like you’re afraid of me, not like you’re going to eat your way out of here.”  Raising her voice, she sighed heavily.  “Bloody hell, Captain, how much farther is it?”

Slouching, Zang lumbered forward and opened the door for her.  Sweeping his arm awkwardly, he bowed low.  “Docking station A9, my lady.”

With long, proud strides, she stomped down the hallway, skirts rustling and swooshing from side to side.  Scientists and soldiers alike jumped out of her way, bowing and scraping with hardly a glance to Zang, who did his best to cringe along in her wake.  Sweat trickled down his back and his fangs ached.  He knew his eyes were dangerously slitted, for his spine burned, his skin tight to the point of tearing open to loose the dreadful monster he carried inside.

If the lady thinks I’m repulsive in this form, she ought to see the nightmare I’ll become.