New Year, New Story…

Okay so the New Year has arrived and it’s time to get back to writing.  Shadow’s Soul is out being eviscerated, I mean critiqued, by the other Evil Six so I decided to start the year off write…I began to plot out Raine and Gavin’s next adventure.

But to get to this point took time.  Here’s a little insight into the schizophrenic maze known as a writer’s mind. 

I’ve spent the last few weeks prepping the Prankster Duo, the knight in slightly muddy armor, and the hellhound for the holidays.  We had to hunt down holiday gifts, bind them and then deliver them out to the other Swamp residents.  The Swamp Thing family has had a rough time this season so we had to sneak in late one night to leave their gift on the doorstep in an effort not to be dragged into their “martial discussions”. The Prankster Duo managed to get in and get out without any major setbacks (fires, explosions, dismemberment, etc.) while delivering Smokey, Quirky and Jedi’s gifts.  The knight and I took on the tougher residents. Evading Snarky’s newest whip was perilous and dropping off Eerie and Mischievous’ gifts, well I won’t go into detail. Suffice to say the hellhound was in need of some bone therapy afterwards, and knight’s armor had a few more dents to add to his collection.  Don’t tell Eerie, but I think I lost a blade to one of the shambling hordes.

Regardless, we made it through the season.  The Prankster Duo has increased their weaponry supply with some new additions and they’ve been tormenting the zombies scuffling through the Swamp.  The hellhound was quite pleased with his decapitated duck and unidentified leg bone.  Overall it was a lovely Holiday!

While hunting down and setting sneaky traps for our holiday gifts, I decided to pare down the towering pile of nightstand books and got caught up with some of my favorite stories.  When I finished with that, it was time to face the ominous quest looming on my horizon… the creation of my next book.

For those not familiar with a writer, let me explain why your writer friends seem to morph into bi-polar maniacs with multiple personalities in-between their Works in Progress (aka WIPs).  We all fear the blank page or screen that mocks us with its whiteness. 

Typing the last word on your last story is a relief, until you realize you have to start all over again.  Regardless if you’re doing a stand-alone or a series, beginning a story is terrifying.  Let’s follow along with my neurosis as I begin a new WIP.

First question that hits—can I do it?  Can I really get another three to four hundred pages that will keep a reader on the edge of their seat? Am I all tapped out? Was writing that last book, was that it?

A few deep breaths and a handful of chocolate later I’ve managed to smash that stupid voice into silence.  Yes, I’m a writer, damn it, I can do this.  I’ve done it before.

Next question—so do I continue with Raine and Gavin or do I let other characters have their own story? Should I go back to that other story line and take a break from Raine? If I continue with Raine, I’ll have to pitch to my editor for book three, if I don’t I’ll have to go back out to the vicious world of pitches and throw myself on the mercy of another editor.  What to do?

I re-read the 125 pages I have of the other WIP and it hits me…this isn’t going to work without some major re-writing.  Where do I start? Should I throw it away and just start from scratch? I mean, I really like some of it, but other parts are going to have me sporting a Sinead O’Connor look real quick.  Oh man, maybe it’s not so smart to go back to that one just yet….okay let’s think about Raine. 

What do I need to do next? Where is the overall story arc going? Every book has to accomplish something or why write their story? Fine, let’s torment the newly established couple, throw in some twists and turns and then…miracle of miracles, words are spitting across the page.  A plot emerges.  This is good, I haven’t lost the ability yet. 

Okay so I have a plot, but I’m still thinking this year I’d like to get two books done, so where do I focus?  How do I choose which gets to be done first? The massive re-write or begin Raine’s latest adventure?

Dear God I think the voices in my head are going to stomp my brain into mush and it will leak out of my ears and then neither story will get written.  ARRRGHHH!!!

I manage to piece together Raine’s story and I’m turning over how to re-write the other story, but in the meantime those around me are giving me a wide berth.  Maybe it’s the fact I’m continuously mumbling under my breath while wildly gesturing to get the voices to lower to a dull roar, or maybe it’s the fact that while eating a lovely dinner with family, I blurt out, “She’s being hunted by a psychic psychopath!”

Chairs scrape a few more inches away from me, the Prankster Duo just shake their heads, and knight simply responds in a gently voice, “Do you want some more chocolate, babe?”

And the year has barely begun…

Wicked!

T’was the Night Before the Zombie Apocalypse

Seasons Greetings to all of my minions,

As you can see we have rid ourselves of the local zombie infestation and replaced the decorations with more traditional bunting.  Of course the zombie population is ever-increasing everywhere else.  The muses are patrolling our borders for now.  There’s talk of a fence to keep them out, but that’s preliminary.

 I hope you’re ready for the big day.  If not, stop worrying about it, there’s always next year.  As Christmas quickly approaches, all the old traditions are getting dusted off and paraded out.  It is a season of giving, when music and stories abound.  In light of our current situation with undead strolling through the malls and caroling in our streets.  I thought I would give this old standby an update.  I hope you enjoy it.

T’was the night before Christmas when all through our shelter,

Not a creature was stirring, not even the smelter.

The mac-tens were hung by the chimney with care,

For the undead horde that would soon be there.

The guard dogs were nestled all snug in their beds,

While visions of raw meat danced in their heads.

Mom and her uzi and I with my launcher,

Had just settled down to plan for the slaughter.

When out on the lawn there arose such a racket,

I leaped from the bunker and put my jacket.

Grabbing my Kevlar I flew like a flash,

Turned on the search lights looking aghast.

The lights on the breast of the new fallen dead,

Gave luster of midday to zombies in red.

When what to my wondering eyes should appear,

But a miniature sleigh, and eight zombie reindeer.

The driver was quick, his head wrapped in gauze,

I knew in a snap it was Zombie Clause.

More rapid than missiles his coursers they came,

He grunted and slobbered, and called them by name.

“Now, Femur! Now, Sacrum! now, Kidney! and Bicep,

On, Liver! On, Stomach! On, Colon and Tricep.

To the top of the porch and over barbed wire!

Now dash away! Dash away! Far from the fire!”

Above all the landmines and away from the moat,

They went higher and higher like some flying boat.

So up to the lookout the reindeer they flew,

With a sleigh full of entrails, and Zombie Clause, too.

And then in a twinkling I heard on the roof,

The prancing and pawing of each rotting hoof.

I switched off the safety and pulled back the hammer,

Down the chimney came Zombie Clause with quite a clamor.

He was dressed all in fur from head to the floor,

And his clothes were all bloody and splattered with gore.

A bundle of severed limbs on his back,

He sat himself down to have a late snack.

His eyes—they were sunken, his flesh was so pale,

His nose was held on with a bright shiny nail.

The stump of a leg he held tight in his teeth,

As I pulled my new sword clear of its sheath.

He was rotten and putrid but looked quite surprised,

As I sliced off his arm and poked out his eyes.

He ran to the chimney forgetting his snack,

So I picked up my shotgun and gave him a whack.

Sticking a finger far up his nose,

Giving a nod up the chimney he rose.

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,

And away they all flew like the led from my pistol.

I heard Zombie moan, as he flew through the night,

Merry Christmas to all and to all a good bite.

To You and Yours,

Have a Scary Christmas and a Happy Ghoul Year

Eerie,  Mischievous and the whole crowd at the swamp

Merry Christmas and Happy New Years!

 Since the holidays are now fully upon us, I just wanted to wish everyone a wonderful Christmas season and a fantastic New Year.  May it be filled with laughter, love and joy!

I’ll be back in January with new posts.  I may even explore the whole guest blogging idea!

Until then….be good and have fun!

In search of my muse

When last we talked I heading to the Slice Your Own Deli to enlist the help of the muses to take out the zombie horde.  Well the muses have been difficult to track down.  Mischievous and I have searched everywhere.  Mischievous just heard from a reliable snitch that a new drinking establishment called The Swamp Shack recently opened.  He also heard that it has been inhabited by a raucous crowd all week.  We are heading there now.  Of course I don’t know what kind of shape they’ll be in if they’ve been drinking and fighting all week.

“Eerie look over there, it’s the Hummer for sure.”

“What a dump.  And the name, you think it took an advertising genius to come up with Swamp Shack.”

“That might be false advertising.  I don’t think it meets the building code standards for a shack.”

“Let’s have a look inside.  Keep close.”

“I can wait for you out here Eerie, to keep a watch out.”

“Come on my fearless feathered friend.”

“Hey, what happened?  It’s bigger than it looks from the outside.”

“Yeah, a lot bigger and nicer too.  This is–well, something only a muse could imagine. I’ll do the talking.  Pardon me, have seen a big guy, jeans, work boots, plaid shirt, a little surly maybe?

“Even the bird is big, judging by your size shorty. Who should say I say is asking?”

Eerie Dwarf, it’s matter of grave importance.

“Is it a life or death thing?” he sneers.

More of an undead and gone thing.  Is he here.  He may be traveling with a beautiful but scary looking woman.

“Their here, upstairs in the private members only lounge.”

Great I’ll just go up and–

“I can see you’re short, but is your hearing impaired too?  I said PRIVATE, as in members only.”

Yes, but you see i must–

“You must order a drink or find your way out the front door.  They left specific instructions not to be disturbed.”

“Eeire, a word.”  Mischievous tugs me a few paces from the bar.

What is it?

“I think if you order a drink and pay the man far too much, you might find him a little more sympathetic to your cause.”

“Excellent.”  Turning back, “We’ll have two of the house specials, thank you.”

Two Swamp Heads coming right up.”

I scribble a message on a scrap piece of paper while the bar keep toils away mixing our drinks.  They arrive a murky brown liquid swirling slowly in tall glasses and a grey fog clinging to rim.  I give Mischievous a questioning glance.  He shrugs, but says nothing.

“That’ll be five furlongs.” The bartender wipes away a couple drops of water that condensed on the glasses and dripped onto the otherwise immaculate bar.

I slide two twenty furlong notes across the polished bar along with the note.  ”If  this note somehow found its way upstairs I would appreciate it twice as much.”

His bald pate wrinkled and a smile briefly visited his lips as he swiped the two bills and the note off the bar.  ”I’ll see what I can do.”

Moments later two figures are stumbling down the steps giggling like children.  ”Eerie, drink up we’ve  got zombies to decapitate.” my muse bellows then laughs heartily.

Mischievous leaned in whispering in my ear, “The broad has a broad sword.  How quaint.”

“I heard that.”  At the same moment a knife stuck into the bar top inches from Mischievous’ wing.

“Eerie you are on your own, I’m flying back.”  As quick as the knife arrived Mischievous departed leaving one shiny black feather sashaying to floor.

You’d better go too. I’ll see you next week with the zombie infestation under control I hope.  this weeks quote comes from H P Lovecraft.

“The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest fear is fear of the unknown.”

Write On,

Eerie

 

 

Book Faery Blog and Kindle Fire Giveaway!

Thanksgiving was a blast, but now that I’m full and lazy, it’s time for a really short post!  Next week we’ll go back to the craziness that is this blog, until then…

You have to go check out the last guest blog post I did for this year.  Yeah, yeah, I know, there’ve been lots, but this one is really cool and you have to go see it.  Plus you may even get a free copy of Shadow’s Edge.  See? It’s a wonderful thing right before the holidays!

Now here’s the link to the Book Faery Reviews:  http://tbfreviews.net.  So go have a fun week and check it out!

Plus, if you’re itching for a new Kindle Fire, go over to the left and click on the Kindle giveaway.  Go on, it won’t bite.  Click on it, fill out the info and we’ll all cross our fingers!  It ends soon so hurry up! Entries are only excepted until December 15th and trust me, that’s right around the corner.

Until next week folks…

Happy Thanksgiving…7ED Style

It’s the time of year when everyone does the Why I am Thankful blogs, so I thought I’d join along in my own unique way.

Here in the Swamp there are many things to be thankful for this year.  Let’s begin, shall we?

I am thankful for…

…the Prankster Duo.  Who else in my life would make me consider the deep, dark mysteries of the world  with  such scintillating conversation gambits such as:

                “Mom, can I borrow Siri for a second?”
“Umm..sure…why?”

“I need to look up a word.”

“What word?”

“Fart.”

Startled silence… “Why?”

“My friend said he did and it was ‘an explosive sensation from between his legs’.”

I try really hard not to hit my brakes and cause a five car pile-up as I try to find air to drag into my lungs.  My precious 9 year old…oh dear…. “Um, honey, perhaps you should think of another definition.”

“Why?”

Right, how to answer this one without him thinking his mother is a pervert…oh wait…. “Okay, because that definition could be interpreted in a way you would find really gross.  How about  ‘explosive flatulence’?

“Hmm…okay…should I ask why it would gross me out?”

“It has to do with boys and girls…”
“Okay enough said, I’ll stick with ‘explosive flatulence’.”

…my knight-in-slightly-muddy-armor who has stayed beside me while Eerie’s Zombie’s have trashed our yard and the hellhound has seeded the same yard with many landmines.  Not only has he braved that terror, but he has successfully save many an electronic devices from being tested for aerodynamic properties when they refuse to cooperate with me.  Considering how often that temptation occurs, he’s my hero, because recovering drafts from broken pieces of plastic and wires is really hard!

…my hellhound, without whom my floors would not hold themselves down, but float away into oblivion.  Only he could figure out the strategic points that will keep them grounded and still manage to be where ever I have to walk.

…Starbucks and the lovely baristas, because they have saved many an unsuspecting person from violent death while supplying me with my needed caffeine fix that makes sure all my edged accessories stay sheathed!

…Snarky and her bloody whip.  Let’s be honest, without the combo of the two there’s no way I would have dredged up enough courage and armor to brave the pit of submission hell and finally, FINALLY got a contract!

…Eerie, Mischievous Raven and the herd of corpses that tend to trample my lawn.  Not only has he obtained some seriously good wine from the Werewolf monks, but he shines forth humor in the darkest moments and that is truly priceless.

…Quirky for reminding me why cynicism is not always the best thing to use for protection.  His ability to strip down situations to bare bones makes him invaluable to the Evil 7.  Beside it’s fun to watch him squirm!

…Smokey and his fabulous recipes.  However, I’m still not to sure about the octopus and whatever that was that one time in the Swamp where he and Eerie got together.  Strange, but if you don’t tell me what it is, I won’t think about it! It’s nice to know that even if you can’t pronounce character names, you can cook!

…Jedi and her bravery.  I mean, really, think about it.  How brave would you be to walk into a steamy Swamp filled with gods-only-know-who, talk to the short. stumpy guy with the beady eyed raven trying to pry a zombie arm from the Swamp Thing while the Prankster Duo goes screaming by with some weird contraption spitting flame, while Snarky tries to hold back the horde parked outside her porch with a 12 foot whip?  Really, our neighborhood doesn’t need a watch, more like napalm.  We’re glad you survived the welcoming committee and decided to stay!

…BFF, Ang, because who else would dare take me to a move about a sparkling vampire who hatches kids from eggs and an alpha wolf that doesn’t kill for leadership and can’t pronounce his someday mate’s name, and then let me go Science Mystery Theater on it for two hours.  She even held back the prepubescent horde armed with lip-gloss and sparkle and their mothers from trampling me under their keds.  Only a BFF like that can be trusted at your back.

…to all of you for taking the time to follow along, even when the insanity that lives inside me spews outward!

HAPPY THANKSGIVING EVERYONE!

To Nano or Not to Nano…

It’s November and once again I face the dreaded question, “To Nano or Not to Nano?”

For those not tormented each year by the looming challenge of Nano, let me explain.  Nano is National Novel Writing Month and if you write or have friends who do, it is the one month each year that is greeted with tears, mad laughter, nerves and for those into pain, joy!  Sometimes the entire plethora of emotions will ride you like a demented roller coaster ride.  The goal—write 50,000 words of a novel by the last day of November.  You read that right—FIFTY THOUSAND WORDS.

To give you an idea of what that means, my second book is at 405 pages and 114,000 words.

It’s a lot of words people.  Here’s the kicker—YOU CAN’T EDIT.  Yep, no editing allowed. You sit, you write and you don’t let your inner editor say a damn word.  Sound easy?  Have you ever tried to get that annoying friend who can’t resist giving you advice on everything to shut up?  How successful were you?  Multiply that by ten and your inner editor is cackling madly at your impotence.

So as  November loomed on the horizon, I had to make my yearly choice-do or not do.  I ran through my list of upcoming commitments:
Shadow’s Edge, my very first book, was coming out at the beginning of November

I had 15 guest blog posts to put together, send out, and then remember who and where I was for the next few weeks of November.

There was the book signing for the non-fiction anthology to go to.

There was the pesky little thing known as the job that pays the bills.

I needed to finish and begin editing the 405 page monstrosity of my second book so I could offer it to the other Evil 6 for evisceration.

The Prankster Duo have pretty much threaten to up their rebellion if I don’t acknowledge them at some point and help with the looming education projects coming down the road before Christmas break.

My knight-in-slightly-muddy-armor was requesting face time.

I could not miss my BFF’s graduation—that wasn’t even an option.

Sprinkle in the normal monthly requirements—meeting by the light of the moon with the other Evil 6, visits to local witch doctors before my knight’s lungs decided to created their own mucus nightmares, the hellhound required claw trimming and defurminating, etc.

Oh yeah, and there’s this holiday in here somewhere.

So call me wimpy but I decided to bow out of Nano this year.  Doesn’t mean I haven’t suffered unmitigated guilt ever since though.  Somehow I should have found a way to squeeze in 1500 words per day.  I’m a writer, damn it, it shouldn’t be so hard.

On the positive side, my guilt has encouraged some great ideas for the third book and maybe a whole other story line…hmmm…..

I wonder if I could suggest picking a different month next year?

So for all those brave souls trudging through the mire of words this year, I salute you! Go forth, write and be the hero I couldn’t be this month!

Go Nanomites! Conquer the paper and make it bleed ink!

–Wicked

Only have to run faster than the other guy…

Happy Halloween and Samhain, all.

One of the best things I love about today is spending time doing fun stuff with my family.

Here in AZ, we have our state fair in October. Me and the kids spent a whole Saturday there (don’t ask how much $$, LOL).

Last night, we went out for dinner – mom didn’t have to cook, always great – and then to a local haunted house. Dark, scary, people dressed up jumping out and yelling they’re going to eat you. The kids pretty much huddled around me for most of the trip, until the very end…

Then, my 12 year old son saw the zombies.

There were only three of them, really.

The passage was tight, too narrow to get by in the pack huddle.

So what does the kidlet do?

He pushes past poor mom, throwing me to the zombies to save himself.

I’m not sure if I’m proud of his survival instinct, or amused at his embracing of the saying: “You don’t have to ourtun the Zombie, you only have to run faster than the other guy.”

: )

Happy holiday everyone.

PS. Anyone up for Nano (National Novel Writing Month) this year? If so, come be my buddy (higleyb) and we can write like crazy people together.

The Greatest Holiday Ever….

Halloween is around the corner and this month zipped by in spectacularly fast fashion.  With little time to spare, I wrangled the Prankster Duo, via a Venus Fly Trap snare, made them leave the head of one of Eerie’s zombies at home, and off we went to shop for costumes.   As we emerged from the Swamp, the youngest pointed out the new signs wallpapering the Impenetrable Forest.  Seems they’re in the midst of working on another deadly…I mean lovely, maze for this year’s celebration.

So we’re at the Aberzombie & Witch when my oldest informs me in funeral tones that this will be his last year of trick-or-treating.

Shocked, all I could manage was a garbled, “Uh?”

Ignoring my eloquence, he continued, “My friends and I discussed this, and this is it for us.”

“You make it sound like your impending demise looms upon the horizon, child. It’s Halloween!”

I never thought I’d get such a look from the fruit of my loins. (Loins, Eerie, not Looms!)  From the Whipmistress?  Hell yeah.  Him? Not so much.  “I don’t want to embarrass myself.”

Really? Okay, Mr. Daddy Long Legs…let’s think about this for a second.  You’re a boy, a sweet one occasionally, but a pre-teen boy.  Embarrassment is soon to be a way of life for you.  My poor baby.

He added, “Besides, we’ll be in Junior High.”

Ahhh! I get it.  As we leave the familiar halls of elementary school behind and begin to prepare for the hallowed journey to middle school, suddenly “coolness” factors into every decision.  Then it’s on to those oh-so-torturous years of high school.

“Okay then.  But you do realize that mom had no problem donning a wig, goth make-up and heeled boots for her writer’s conference a couple years back.  Remember that?”

He does a damn good eye roll, “Yeah, mom, but you’re…a writer, you’re suppose to be crazy.”

See! My son is brilliant! As I glide through the pride of my son’s keen intellect, my youngest cuts in.  “Mom, they don’t have any Minecraft pig costumes.”

Looking over the selection, I notice he’s absolutely correct.  Nary a piece of bacon in sight.  Unless you count the strangely compelling anatomically correct adult version hanging in the corner.  I gently steer his young, impressionable mind elsewhere.  “Okay, then, what’s your back-up plan?”

“Hmmm….” he studies the offerings with the seriousness of a heart surgeon.  A few minutes later and a decision is made.  I head to the counter, lay out the cash and we’re homeward bound.

Later that night as my knight-in-slightly-muddy armor starts to work on his daily shine-fest, the Duo drag out their costumes.

“Look, Dad? Like the whip?”  For a kid who doesn’t want to trick-or-treat, my oldest hides his excitement fairly well.

“Nice, son,” my  knight checks the workmanship.  “So, Indiana Jones, uh?”

“Yeah, no mask required.”

They’re interrupted as my youngest taps my knight on his shoulder.  “Check it out, Dad!”  The voice is a little muffled behind the mask, but it gets a smile from my knight.

“Niccceeee…I see we stuck with our old stand-by, Star Wars!”

“Yeah, no Minecraft pigs.” Disappointment has our ARF Stormtrooper’s shoulder sagging. But only for a moment.  “But it’s okay, this one has wickedly cool camo!”

As the Duo dart off to harangue the hell-hound, my knight turns to me.  “Does he realize the camo is for snow covered landscapes?”

“Yep, but it’s camo and you know as well as I do, any camo is good camo, as far as he’s concerned.”  From outside our well barricaded cabin, we hear another zombie cage-fight match start up.  I sure wish the Swamp Thing would leave them alone. I double check the locks on the door and make sure the flamethrowers are set.  “Besides, does it matter? It’s Halloween, and isn’t one of the best parts being able to dress up however we want?”

–Wicked

It’s always the little things…

You’ve heard it a million times, because I know I have.  It’s the little things that will:

    a.  get you

    b.  mean the most

    c.  matter the most

  For me, it’s all of the above.  Thanks to a very difficult week, this post is not what I had originally planned.

  It’s been a weirdly difficult and promising week for me.  It started out with some heartbreaking news from home and ended with butterflies in my stomach.  So I got to thinking about everything that had happened, and that often used phrase “It’s the little things” really hit home.

When you get that small little voice in your head (not the one that argues with you, the other one) that does the polite nudge of  “You should really pick up the phone and call” or “You’ve got a minute, why don’t you swing by and check on”, try not to ignore it.  There’s a reason it’s small and quiet.  It’s trying to make sure you’re paying attention to something more than the busy whirlwind of everyday life you may be swirling in.

Hard though it may be to hear, take the time to listen.  You may be surprised at the results.  You may be the one that helps someone from taking that last long step off the cliff, or you may find your actions reverberate longer than even you could imagine.  Every little word, every little action,  especially when done out of love and compassion, will echo back to you in ways you’d never think of, but end up being truly grateful for.

So on this beautiful Easter morning, I want to make sure that not only my family, friends, and the other evil six, know how much I treasure their presence in my life.  For all of you, thanks guys! More than you know, lots of love!

–Wicked