Today's winner of Whispers Out of Yesteryear is Jennifer. I'll be in touch with her soon. The next book up is the first of a fantasy trilogy The Jewels of Earda - The Quest For the White Jewel. On the world of Earda, the Jewels rule all. Power flows from their depths and the world responds to the will of their holders, and the will of the holder of the Black Jewel, which rules all the jewels. Yet legend speaks of a time when there was no Black Jewel and the lands were ruled in peace by the White Jewel. They are merely legends. The truth is lost in the midst of time. Liara and her foster brother, Brader, intend to discover the truth.
Now to Pacing - Again from Becoming Your Own Critique Partner by Jane Toombs and Janet Lane Walters.
Just what is pacing. Actually it's tempo in music but in writing it means the movement of the prose and the characters. This means control by the author. Each scene has a pace and so do the three sections of the book. The beginning, the middle and the end. Pacing keeps the beginning from plodding and the reader being bored before they really find the story in the pages. Pacing keeps the middles from sagging and the endings from being too rushed. Of course any of these problems can occur in a book section or a scene.
Pacing problems in the beginning of the book can be several. The opening can sag because the author decides to give you ever moment of the person's background. The opening can begin with an explosion of action or of characters, introducing too many people or giving so much action there is no time for the reader to sort out what's really happening. The book can open with a big bang and allow nowhere for the story to go.
When the author comes to the middle there are some things to look for and try to avoid. Once again are the action scenes piled one on top of the other and not allowing the reader time to sort out the data? Is there more tell than show? Are there too many repetitive scenes using the same setting, the same characters and the same reasons for the scene?
The ending can also have some problems. Is the ending rushed? The writer can say 'Thank heavens" and end abruptly without showing the scene in full. The opposite can occur and the writer can play out the scene until the reader decides they've had enough. Yes, they did finish the book but they might never purchase that author's work again.
Since pacing is such a big part of writing I'll continue this next week and talk about patterns and how story patterns help the pacing.
Friday, December 10, 2010
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Interview with Kat Attalla - Contest news
The winner of The Midas Murders is Shana. I'll be in touch with her later. The next book up is Whispers out of Yesteryear published by DiskUs. This is my first delve into a reincarnation theme.
During the French and Indian War. Willow Wjo Weeps' village is destroyed by a band of hostile braves led by Rene Du Bari. Joined by a British friend, Jonathan Reed she searches for the Frenchman. She is killed but vows to follow Du Bari into the spirit world and beyond and leaves Jonathan to raise their two children.
Awakened by a cry "Not the children." Willow Carey is frightened by the return on a dream that began at Indian's Sorrow, a house she inherited. There is a rift with her twin sister, Brooke. Though Willow doesn't want to return to the house she goes. There she encounters Reid Talbot, a doctor she once loved and lost. He is a widower who has never forgotten her and who also dreams of the far past.. But her sister and her fiance, Barry Dubois arrive. Willow and Reid must learn what their dreams mean before whispers from yesteryear destroy their new found happiness.
Today's interview is with Kat Attalla. We've been critique partners for years and I've seen her blossom as a writer. We've been through lean times and fat times as writers and as friends.
. What's your genre or do you write in more than one?
I write contemporary romance and romantic suspense.
2. Did you choose your genre or did it choose you?
I did not read as a child. I knew how. I just didn't enjoy it. My sister turned me on to Harlequin Romances when I was nineteen and the rest, as they say, is history.
3. Is there any genre you'd like to try? Or is there one you wouldn't?
I would like to try a time travel some day. But I'm not sure I would try a sci-fi/fantasy. I'm not as good at world building as you are, Janet.
4. What fiction do you read for pleasure?
I read mysteries and spy thrillers for pleasure. I tend to be too critical of my owe genre.
5. Tell me a bit about yourself and how long you've been writing,
I began writing when my daughter was born. She's 23 now. My first attempt was a mideival novel that I affectionately refer to as my hysterical historical. I learned a valuable lesson. Stick to contemporary romances.
6. Which of your characters is your favorite?
Kate Costello from Heart and Soul. I wrote her for all us women who, as teenagers, stood in front of the mirror, with a hairbrush in hand and dreamed of the rock-star life. It deals with what happens to a woman who attained fame and fortune but wished for a 'normal' life.
7. Are there villains in your books and how were they created?
I don't write the stereotypical villain. My 'bad guys' have to have some human characteristics. You don't root for them but you do have to be able to understand their motives.
8. What are you working on now?
I am working on revisions for Sex and Key Lime Pie for Wild Rose Press. I don't have a release date but I will let you know when I do.
9. What's your latest release and how did the idea arrive?
My last release was Heart and Soul. It was born out of my secret teen fantasy to be a singer. The setting also came from my childhood I guess. I spent a lot of time on a family dairy farm and the memories were among my happiest... and funniest as well. A lot of funny things to suburban kids running wild on the farm.
10. Tell me about your latest book and how it came about. Enclose the opening of the book around 400 words.
The idea for Sex and Key Lime pie came to me while I was having lunch in a Portuguese restaurant in Mystic, Connecticut.
Cheyanne Dupree parked the Corvette in the rest area and stepped out. From the lookout perched high atop the cliffs she glanced at the rocky Rhode Island coastline below. Sea green water stretched across the blue horizon. She inhaled the salty sea air. God, she loved this view. It was the only thing about Mystic Cove she had missed in the last nine years. At least, the only thing she would admit to. From here everything looked the same. But time and circumstance had changed both her and the cove.
Most of the changes were for the better. For one thing, she wouldn’t see Harlan Waitley’s name attached to every building in the town center. In fact, Cheyanne had only returned to clear out the last visible reminder of her stepfather’s existence- the Waitley mansion in Mystic Heights. Her mother, newly remarried and on an extended honeymoon, had sold the house and asked Cheyanne to take care of selling the contents before the buyer took possession. Her first inclination had been to refuse.
After nine years of clinging to the past, she needed to let go. She had a new life, a wonderful job opportunity awaiting her in California at the end of the summer and most important, her son Sam. A feeling of warmth blanketed her. She smiled. Sam was the joy of her life. She still questioned her decision to send him to sleep-away camp at only eight years old, but he’d wanted to go to the Tae Kwon Do camp so badly that he’d saved his allowance for five full months. Only gone one day, and she missed him already. How would she survive two weeks? Especially in Mystic Cove?
Her stomach rumbled. She hadn’t eaten since yesterday. Her nerves had been too raw. She needed to move on, and she would never do that until she let go of the past. With Sam away, she’d returned to this place of so many haunting memories to clear out the ghosts along with the house.
She got back in her car. Not her car, exactly. The classic ‘62 Corvette had belonged to her late husband. As she navigated the vehicle down the winding road to the town below, she tried not to let sentiments overwhelm her. She would be arrogant to believe she’d left as much of an impression on the people here as they had left on her. Hell, most of them had probably forgotten her. She wished she could say the same.
She entered the business district as the clock tower on the bank struck three o’clock. The town center was just as she remembered yet completely different. Many of the stores remained the same, but the names had changed for the better. Waitley Lumber was now Manny’s Lumber. Mario Santori had taken over Waitley’s Department Store. New buildings had gone up. Others had been refinished to keep the quaint feel of the old port town. All in all, the new proprietors reflected the predominately ethnic population better than when Harlan had left his mark on everything and everyone.
Despite her hunger, Cheyanne drove past several restaurants along the waterfront and continued to the outskirts of town. New housing developments and strip malls reveal how much Mystic Cove had changed in the intervening years. At the edge of town the paved streets gave way to a dirt path. Potholes lined the street.
At the end of the road sat a wooden cabin. The last rays of the evening sunset bathed the small structure in a halo. Appropriate, she decided, since she had once considered this place heaven on earth. Back when it had been their place--hers and Luc’s little love shack. Ten years ago to the day, she had lost her head and her heart to Luc Allesandro, right there in that tiny house that had seemed like a mansion to her. Six months later, she had inherited a fortune and lost everything that matter to her.
During the French and Indian War. Willow Wjo Weeps' village is destroyed by a band of hostile braves led by Rene Du Bari. Joined by a British friend, Jonathan Reed she searches for the Frenchman. She is killed but vows to follow Du Bari into the spirit world and beyond and leaves Jonathan to raise their two children.
Awakened by a cry "Not the children." Willow Carey is frightened by the return on a dream that began at Indian's Sorrow, a house she inherited. There is a rift with her twin sister, Brooke. Though Willow doesn't want to return to the house she goes. There she encounters Reid Talbot, a doctor she once loved and lost. He is a widower who has never forgotten her and who also dreams of the far past.. But her sister and her fiance, Barry Dubois arrive. Willow and Reid must learn what their dreams mean before whispers from yesteryear destroy their new found happiness.
Today's interview is with Kat Attalla. We've been critique partners for years and I've seen her blossom as a writer. We've been through lean times and fat times as writers and as friends.
. What's your genre or do you write in more than one?
I write contemporary romance and romantic suspense.
2. Did you choose your genre or did it choose you?
I did not read as a child. I knew how. I just didn't enjoy it. My sister turned me on to Harlequin Romances when I was nineteen and the rest, as they say, is history.
3. Is there any genre you'd like to try? Or is there one you wouldn't?
I would like to try a time travel some day. But I'm not sure I would try a sci-fi/fantasy. I'm not as good at world building as you are, Janet.
4. What fiction do you read for pleasure?
I read mysteries and spy thrillers for pleasure. I tend to be too critical of my owe genre.
5. Tell me a bit about yourself and how long you've been writing,
I began writing when my daughter was born. She's 23 now. My first attempt was a mideival novel that I affectionately refer to as my hysterical historical. I learned a valuable lesson. Stick to contemporary romances.
6. Which of your characters is your favorite?
Kate Costello from Heart and Soul. I wrote her for all us women who, as teenagers, stood in front of the mirror, with a hairbrush in hand and dreamed of the rock-star life. It deals with what happens to a woman who attained fame and fortune but wished for a 'normal' life.
7. Are there villains in your books and how were they created?
I don't write the stereotypical villain. My 'bad guys' have to have some human characteristics. You don't root for them but you do have to be able to understand their motives.
8. What are you working on now?
I am working on revisions for Sex and Key Lime Pie for Wild Rose Press. I don't have a release date but I will let you know when I do.
9. What's your latest release and how did the idea arrive?
My last release was Heart and Soul. It was born out of my secret teen fantasy to be a singer. The setting also came from my childhood I guess. I spent a lot of time on a family dairy farm and the memories were among my happiest... and funniest as well. A lot of funny things to suburban kids running wild on the farm.
10. Tell me about your latest book and how it came about. Enclose the opening of the book around 400 words.
The idea for Sex and Key Lime pie came to me while I was having lunch in a Portuguese restaurant in Mystic, Connecticut.
Cheyanne Dupree parked the Corvette in the rest area and stepped out. From the lookout perched high atop the cliffs she glanced at the rocky Rhode Island coastline below. Sea green water stretched across the blue horizon. She inhaled the salty sea air. God, she loved this view. It was the only thing about Mystic Cove she had missed in the last nine years. At least, the only thing she would admit to. From here everything looked the same. But time and circumstance had changed both her and the cove.
Most of the changes were for the better. For one thing, she wouldn’t see Harlan Waitley’s name attached to every building in the town center. In fact, Cheyanne had only returned to clear out the last visible reminder of her stepfather’s existence- the Waitley mansion in Mystic Heights. Her mother, newly remarried and on an extended honeymoon, had sold the house and asked Cheyanne to take care of selling the contents before the buyer took possession. Her first inclination had been to refuse.
After nine years of clinging to the past, she needed to let go. She had a new life, a wonderful job opportunity awaiting her in California at the end of the summer and most important, her son Sam. A feeling of warmth blanketed her. She smiled. Sam was the joy of her life. She still questioned her decision to send him to sleep-away camp at only eight years old, but he’d wanted to go to the Tae Kwon Do camp so badly that he’d saved his allowance for five full months. Only gone one day, and she missed him already. How would she survive two weeks? Especially in Mystic Cove?
Her stomach rumbled. She hadn’t eaten since yesterday. Her nerves had been too raw. She needed to move on, and she would never do that until she let go of the past. With Sam away, she’d returned to this place of so many haunting memories to clear out the ghosts along with the house.
She got back in her car. Not her car, exactly. The classic ‘62 Corvette had belonged to her late husband. As she navigated the vehicle down the winding road to the town below, she tried not to let sentiments overwhelm her. She would be arrogant to believe she’d left as much of an impression on the people here as they had left on her. Hell, most of them had probably forgotten her. She wished she could say the same.
She entered the business district as the clock tower on the bank struck three o’clock. The town center was just as she remembered yet completely different. Many of the stores remained the same, but the names had changed for the better. Waitley Lumber was now Manny’s Lumber. Mario Santori had taken over Waitley’s Department Store. New buildings had gone up. Others had been refinished to keep the quaint feel of the old port town. All in all, the new proprietors reflected the predominately ethnic population better than when Harlan had left his mark on everything and everyone.
Despite her hunger, Cheyanne drove past several restaurants along the waterfront and continued to the outskirts of town. New housing developments and strip malls reveal how much Mystic Cove had changed in the intervening years. At the edge of town the paved streets gave way to a dirt path. Potholes lined the street.
At the end of the road sat a wooden cabin. The last rays of the evening sunset bathed the small structure in a halo. Appropriate, she decided, since she had once considered this place heaven on earth. Back when it had been their place--hers and Luc’s little love shack. Ten years ago to the day, she had lost her head and her heart to Luc Allesandro, right there in that tiny house that had seemed like a mansion to her. Six months later, she had inherited a fortune and lost everything that matter to her.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Characterization - How do they speak
The winner of Requiem Murder is Ixtemia. I'll be emailing her soon to let her know how to reach me. The next book up is The Midas Murders. Katherine goes to Santa Fe, New Mexico to spend New Year's Eve with her friend Lars and arrives to find him missing. She is plunged into another of her mysteries and indulges in a bit of romance.
Another way of having your characters come to life is through their speaking patterns.
To do this, you have to listen to the hero or heroine and you also need to know a bit about them. I once did an exercise when I was given a situation and then I was asked to put what the characters would say. The professions and or ages of the characters was given to me. When trying for just a few lines of dialgue to tell another person that someone had died was very interesting and challenging. Each of the characters was of a different age, career path, area of the country where they had been raised. Really learned a lot from doing this.
Listening to people can help a great deal. Even the same words spoken by two people can sound different. Choice of words and tone of voice It may not be the words said but the way they are said.
Word choices are another way to let the characters speak. Much depends on where you were raised or your social background or education. Find people who follow the profession your character has chosen and listen to their speech. People either laugh or are aghast at the meal conversation of nurses and doctors. They can eat and talk about some very not appetizing situations. Other professionals have their own argot so tune into these.
The tempo of the speech. Some people speak in short, precise bits, others go on for pages. Some people's speech is slow and measured and others sound like a machine gun going off.
All these things can go into making your characters seem more real that "real" people.
Another way of having your characters come to life is through their speaking patterns.
To do this, you have to listen to the hero or heroine and you also need to know a bit about them. I once did an exercise when I was given a situation and then I was asked to put what the characters would say. The professions and or ages of the characters was given to me. When trying for just a few lines of dialgue to tell another person that someone had died was very interesting and challenging. Each of the characters was of a different age, career path, area of the country where they had been raised. Really learned a lot from doing this.
Listening to people can help a great deal. Even the same words spoken by two people can sound different. Choice of words and tone of voice It may not be the words said but the way they are said.
Word choices are another way to let the characters speak. Much depends on where you were raised or your social background or education. Find people who follow the profession your character has chosen and listen to their speech. People either laugh or are aghast at the meal conversation of nurses and doctors. They can eat and talk about some very not appetizing situations. Other professionals have their own argot so tune into these.
The tempo of the speech. Some people speak in short, precise bits, others go on for pages. Some people's speech is slow and measured and others sound like a machine gun going off.
All these things can go into making your characters seem more real that "real" people.
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Inspiration - The Writers' Journey _Book Winner and Next book
First the winner of Refuge is Sunsinger and I'll be emailing soon. The next book up is the second of the Katherine Miller mysteries, Requiem murder. Here's a bit about the book. The current organist at St. Stephens has left. Katherine is part of the search committee to find a new one. The moment she hears Roger Brandon's artistry she knows he's the one. His playing is enough to tempt the angels. He accepts the position and brings trouble to the church choir. He is handsome and charismatic and charms the women of the church. Three of the women are part of Katherine's neighborhood. She begins to suspect his dark secret. Can she learn before tragedy strikes.
Now to Vogler and the final step in the writer's journey. This is called Return with the Elixir. Kind of a neat way of saying the end. Now stories can end happily or tragically. They can be closed ended or open ended, but the ending must be satisfactory. Most of the stories I write are closed end and I hope satisfactory. What happens is the character or characters bring the lessons they have learned to the present and this generally results in changes, or not. Some characters don't learn and they may need to repeat their journey again.
What I really found interesting is Vogler's reasons for faulty endings. these are things that leave the reader unsatisfied. One is loose ends. Right now I'm dealing with the fourth book in a four book series and trying to make sure nothing is left unresolved. This can be hard but slowly it's coming into focus. Another problem is too many endings. I've read books where I believe the end has been reached and then the author continues on to end yet again. The ending cat be abrupt and not give the reader time to process what the story has meant. I think I've been guilty of this several times. When an editor pointed this out to me several times I realized the reason the story ended like this was there was to be a sequel. Thus the ending had to change,
During the many weeks of using this book as an inspiration for my own writing and perhaps giving other readers some hints about their journey, I've learned a lot, questioned frequently. Hopefully you have as well
Now to Vogler and the final step in the writer's journey. This is called Return with the Elixir. Kind of a neat way of saying the end. Now stories can end happily or tragically. They can be closed ended or open ended, but the ending must be satisfactory. Most of the stories I write are closed end and I hope satisfactory. What happens is the character or characters bring the lessons they have learned to the present and this generally results in changes, or not. Some characters don't learn and they may need to repeat their journey again.
What I really found interesting is Vogler's reasons for faulty endings. these are things that leave the reader unsatisfied. One is loose ends. Right now I'm dealing with the fourth book in a four book series and trying to make sure nothing is left unresolved. This can be hard but slowly it's coming into focus. Another problem is too many endings. I've read books where I believe the end has been reached and then the author continues on to end yet again. The ending cat be abrupt and not give the reader time to process what the story has meant. I think I've been guilty of this several times. When an editor pointed this out to me several times I realized the reason the story ended like this was there was to be a sequel. Thus the ending had to change,
During the many weeks of using this book as an inspiration for my own writing and perhaps giving other readers some hints about their journey, I've learned a lot, questioned frequently. Hopefully you have as well
Monday, December 6, 2010
My Writing Life - Dec 6th The contest
The day has gone very fast and I'm just organizing my day. Just learned about a new release. The Hudson House Murders is available electronically. No print yet. This time Katherine goes undercover at an exclusive nursing home.
A bit about the contest, Remember those who are followers have an good chance of being sent a paper copy of one of my books. Now for the interesting news. The Winner of The Henge Betrayed is Deidre and I'll be emailing her soon. The next book up is The Henge Betrayed -- Refuge recently out in print. This is the second of the series suitable for all ages. The first chapter is up on the blog about a month ago. So read and toss your hat in the ring by making a comment on today's blog.
Here's the Blurb. The adventure begun in Flight continues. Ash, Bran, Ky and Jay led by the mysterious birds they believe are their parents, find refuge with a doma while they await the arrival of their friend Zand. The doma plans to take them to safety in the highlands but news of the capture of two friends by the evil Dom Senet send them on a rescue mission. They soon realize their powers are not strong enough to defeat him but they must find a way to succeed or risk seeing their friends corrupted forever.
Now to my week. I have an interesting event outside my door. I have what may be the ugliest rose bush in creativity. We have had two frosts so far this year but there are ten bright red roses on the bush. There are no leaves. There have been no leaves for nearly two months but there are roses. My granddaughter calls it the magic bush. That's kind of how I feel about writing these days. There's a magic when I see the characters come to life and there's a magic in realizing some day I will finish the last of the Henge series. Not this year but definitely early next year. Perhaps in time to see book three in the series released.
Don't know about the rest of you but some books come easy and some come hard. With this fourth book, there are so many ends to tie up and slowly they're coming to happen. Will I ever attempt anything this encompassing? Probably. I do love casts of thousands. The next story I tell will have only two. That will be a break. How do your writing days go?
A bit about the contest, Remember those who are followers have an good chance of being sent a paper copy of one of my books. Now for the interesting news. The Winner of The Henge Betrayed is Deidre and I'll be emailing her soon. The next book up is The Henge Betrayed -- Refuge recently out in print. This is the second of the series suitable for all ages. The first chapter is up on the blog about a month ago. So read and toss your hat in the ring by making a comment on today's blog.
Here's the Blurb. The adventure begun in Flight continues. Ash, Bran, Ky and Jay led by the mysterious birds they believe are their parents, find refuge with a doma while they await the arrival of their friend Zand. The doma plans to take them to safety in the highlands but news of the capture of two friends by the evil Dom Senet send them on a rescue mission. They soon realize their powers are not strong enough to defeat him but they must find a way to succeed or risk seeing their friends corrupted forever.
Now to my week. I have an interesting event outside my door. I have what may be the ugliest rose bush in creativity. We have had two frosts so far this year but there are ten bright red roses on the bush. There are no leaves. There have been no leaves for nearly two months but there are roses. My granddaughter calls it the magic bush. That's kind of how I feel about writing these days. There's a magic when I see the characters come to life and there's a magic in realizing some day I will finish the last of the Henge series. Not this year but definitely early next year. Perhaps in time to see book three in the series released.
Don't know about the rest of you but some books come easy and some come hard. With this fourth book, there are so many ends to tie up and slowly they're coming to happen. Will I ever attempt anything this encompassing? Probably. I do love casts of thousands. The next story I tell will have only two. That will be a break. How do your writing days go?
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Six Sentence Sunday
First, the winner is Heather since she pled so hard Murder and Mint Tea is hers.
The next book in the giveaway is The Henge Betrayed - Flight. This is a fantasy and suitable for all ages. A bit about the book.
"We've been betrayed." Those words spoken by the Dom and Doma of the Wesren henge awaken their four children, two sets of male/female twins. Each child has an affinity for one of the elements, Earth, Air, Fire and Water. In secret, the young teens flee their home to seek a place of safety and teachers to hone their control. They use their emerging talents in ways they never imagined.
Will their quest succeed or will they become pasns of He Who Walks With Evil?
The first chapter of this was posted a number of weeks ago. Now for the sentences.
The metallic crash shattered the air and sent Ellen to the door. There went her plans to escape one of the most humiliating days of her life. She rushed outside and saw not a car but a smashed motorcycle. Her thoughts went into triage-mode as she helped the rider to the house. As the light struck his face a memory rose. She'd wanted to escape the second worst moment of her life and here arrived the author of the first.
The next book in the giveaway is The Henge Betrayed - Flight. This is a fantasy and suitable for all ages. A bit about the book.
"We've been betrayed." Those words spoken by the Dom and Doma of the Wesren henge awaken their four children, two sets of male/female twins. Each child has an affinity for one of the elements, Earth, Air, Fire and Water. In secret, the young teens flee their home to seek a place of safety and teachers to hone their control. They use their emerging talents in ways they never imagined.
Will their quest succeed or will they become pasns of He Who Walks With Evil?
The first chapter of this was posted a number of weeks ago. Now for the sentences.
The metallic crash shattered the air and sent Ellen to the door. There went her plans to escape one of the most humiliating days of her life. She rushed outside and saw not a car but a smashed motorcycle. Her thoughts went into triage-mode as she helped the rider to the house. As the light struck his face a memory rose. She'd wanted to escape the second worst moment of her life and here arrived the author of the first.
First Chapter Saturday - Shortcut To Love
The winner for Shortcut To Love is Darla and I'll be emailing her soon. The next Book up is Murder and Mint Tea, a cozy mystery. There is a chapter on First Chapter Saturday I believe last week. This story is one I think of as a Who is going to kill her?
Katherine Miller has retired from two careers, one as a nurse and the other as a church organist. Though she has no desire for a third career, she may be forced to become a detective. Her latest tenant has brought trouble to the neighborhood. When Rachel's body is found in Katherine's garden she recognizes the murder weapon and knows any of her near and dear could be the killer. She refuses to accept that a friend or relative could be the killer and seeks to find the culprit.
Shortcut To Love
Janet Lane Walters
Clocktower Books
ISBN: 0-7433-0375-X
SHORTCUT TO LOVE
Chapter One
The mob of creatures waving signs circled him, leaving no room for escape. His frustration level soared. No matter which way he turned, he faced another sign.
"College debts. Medical school loans. Credit cards. Condo. Car. Money for the house he planned to build."
A deep voice, akin to his father's, chanted words that gradually rang clear. "You must pay the debts. You must pay the debts."
The strange creatures joined the chorus. They twirled the ends of Dali-like mustaches.
From a distance, his mother's voice added to the cacophony. "Michael when will I see grandchildren? You know how badly I want little ones to hug."
Michael West bolted upright and stared at the clock. He rubbed his eyes. This wasn't Saturday or Sunday. He was going to be late for his first day as the junior partner of Grandvue Hospital's premier group of surgeons. He threw back the covers and strode to the bathroom.
As he showered, the nightmare circled in his thoughts. "Sorry Mom," he whispered. The stack of debts had to be liquidated before he chose a wife.
He grabbed a towel and briskly dried. He had a plan. Five years would see it to completion. Then he'd be ready to give the woman he selected for marriage the things he believed she deserved. He dressed in new gray slacks and a black blazer, grabbed his medical bag and headed out the door.
Though he wished he had time for a hearty breakfast, on the way to the hospital, he stopped at the deli for coffee and a croissant. Ten minutes later, he sat in the doctors' parking lot and ate his meager meal.
After stuffing the trash in the take-out bag, Michael pulled his long frame from the car and strode toward the entrance. Just as he reached the door, the senior partner of the practice called his name. "Slow down."
Michael waited for Dr. Probst. "Good morning, sir. I didn't expect to see you here this early."
The gray-haired man smiled. "Always first in. Good to see you're of like habits. Three cases on the schedule this morning."
"Will I assist with them all?" Michael asked.
"Eager to get your hands in?"
Michael grinned. "Sure am, sir."
Dr. Probst chuckled. "How well I remember those days. Before we head to the O.R., we’ll make rounds and I'll show you around the surgical unit.”
“Sounds good.”
“Then I'll introduce you to the new nurse manager. Young woman's a marvel. Been here six months. Shaped up the place and the staff. Not only smart, but quite a looker, too."
Michael's grin broadened. In November when he'd interviewed and toured the hospital, the nurse manager had been a starched older woman whose cold glare and thin-lipped smile made him think she detested young doctors. Young and pretty was more his style, especially if she was a woman who would be content with the company of a man with a five-year plan.
They left the elevator on the second floor and strode around the corner. When Michael saw the nurse seated at the long counter surrounding the open station, he abruptly halted.
"No," he whispered. “It can’t be.” He nearly bolted.
"Something wrong?" Dr. Probst asked.
Michael cleared his throat. "Nothing. I never expected to see--"
"Zelda, come meet the latest addition to the group," Dr. Probst called.
"Zelda." Michael groaned. The bane of his youth sauntered toward them.
His throat tightened. So did his gut. "You work here?"
He could have kicked himself. Why else would she be here dressed in a white uniform? A uniform that fit her slim body to perfection.
Dr. Probst beamed. "Michael, this is Zelda Carter, the miracle nurse manager."
Figures she’d find a way to plague me, Michael thought. The man was right about one thing. Zelda was attractive and probably efficient, but she was also a disaster attuned to Michael West MD. Like the visions seen by a drowning man, incidents flooded his memory. She had dynamited his high school romance with Ann and dive-bombed his summer fling with Bette.
Every time Zelda neared his vicinity, strange things happened. He tripped over invisible cracks in the sidewalk, dropped drinks and fumbled plates of food. In her presence he became an accident primed to occur.
He glanced at Zelda. Boy had she changed. Short, curly, brown hair. Blue eyes. Slender figure. His gaze lingered on her kissable lips, and he felt an urge to taste them. He sucked in a breath. Zelda? He jerked his eyes away from her mouth and forced himself to concentrate on his partner's briefing on the patients on the unit and the cases awaiting surgery.
His gaze and his attention strayed toward her. She kept her gaze on his partner. Zelda discussed the cases with Dr. Probst. Michael realized she was ignoring him more effectively than he ignored her. Still, he felt sure plans for destructing his life roiled in her head the way they always had.
A note, he thought. He'd write one and leave it in her office. Strong words designed to head her off. He pulled out a pen and scribbled on his prescription pad.
Dear Zelda, Nice to hear you're doing so
well. Let's work to keep our relationship
strictly professional. Unless you need to
talk to me about a patient, ignore me.
Your former neighbor, Michael.
After rounds, Michael followed Dr. Probst to the stairs. He paused at the door of Zelda's office. "Just a minute. I need to drop something on her desk."
Dr. Probst arched a brow. "Something brewing between you two already?"
"We used to be neighbors."
"Aha, the girl next-door."
Michael nodded. He wasn't about to explain the tangled past he shared with Zelda. He stepped into the office and placed the note on her desk. That should stop any problems, he thought.
As he and Dr. Probst reached the stairs, the stairwell door opened. A tall, gorgeous redhead exited. "Dr. Probst, good morning."
Her throaty voice, not to mention her voluptuous body, captured Michael's attention.
"Morning," the older doctor said. "Grace Lubke, this is Michael West, the newest addition to our team."
"Pleased to meet you, Dr. West." Grace's smile held interest and promises.
"Same here." Michael would have stayed to explore the possibilities, but his partner headed down the stairs. Michael started to follow and turned. "Grace, I'll see you around."
"I'll make sure you do."
Michael caught up with the older man. "Grace seems nice."
"She's a looker. Smart, too. Clinical Psychologist for the Mental Health unit."
Now I know where to find her, Michael thought. He intended to look her up very soon.
***
Zelda wanted to pinch herself, but she knew she wasn't dreaming. The bustle of her co-workers, the crackle of the public address system and the ringing phone told her she was fully conscious. Michael had returned home to practice surgery. She would see him every day. Maybe things would be different this time. Maybe he'd open his eyes and see the possibilities. Maybe there’d be no more strange and unusual occurrances when they met. Maybe she could find a crack in his stone heart and he’d know she was just right for him.
Never has, an inner voice reminded her.
She nodded. Too true. But this time she'd find a lure he couldn't resist. She inhaled deeply and swore the citrus scent of him lingered amidst the sharper hospital aromas.
"Ms. Carter, the lab,” the unit secretary called.
Zelda took the phone and jotted the patient information she'd requested. "Thanks." She turned to the unit clerk. "Karen, if anyone needs me, I'll be in my office."
"I'll let them know, boss lady. Oh, you need to call Nan."
"Right." Zelda strode down the hall. She had to inform the staff recruiter about the soon-to-be opening on the unit.
Inside her office, she reached for the phone and punched her friend's extension. After asking Nan to start the search for a qualified registered nurse, she saw the paper on her desk. When she noted the heading, her heart fluttered. Visions of Michael filled her thoughts. What did he want? Ignoring Nan's question, she drifted into a dream. His green eyes glimmered with interest. He smiled and asked her for a date.
"Zelda, are you there," Nan shouted.
She nearly dropped the phone. "Just spaced for a moment."
"So tell me. What's he like?"
"Who?"
"The new surgeon. The whole house is buzzing with curiosity."
"I have first dibs," Zelda said. "Don't you remember him? Six years ahead of us in school. Think red-gold hair and broad shoulders. Think football, basketball and baseball. Think handsome as sin."
Nan laughed. "Michael West. Wasn't he your dream man?"
"Was and is."
"Good luck."
"Thanks." Zelda hung up and read the note -- twice. Anger simmered. She leaned back in her chair. She should shred this. How could he be so cruel? She'd loved him for years. Sure he'd ignored her then, but that was before she'd grown up.
‘Ignore me.’ That's what he'd ordered her to do. She'd tried for years to forget him and failed.
She glanced at the signature. Your former neighbor.
Laughter welled, then gushed. She couldn't wait to see his face when he realized she lived in the same condo. Heavens, their balconies practically touched.
She folded the note and tucked it in her pocket. This proved he wasn't indifferent. The way he'd watched her this morning had triggered her hopes. His missive had solidified them.
Michael West, watch out. I'll find a way to capture more than your glances because I know something you're too blind to see. I'm your perfect mate.
***
Zelda stood at the sliding door leading to her balcony and waited for Michael to appear on his. She swallowed a sip of white wine. Plans for gaining his attention raced in her thoughts. She could knock on his door. Maybe she could stage a faint into his arms. Or she could kidnap him and keep him a prisoner until he declared his love. She couldn't choose one until she saw his reaction to her close proximity.
A noise brought her to full attention. Then she saw him. He held a beer in one hand and the phone in the other. His taste in beverages hadn't changed. She only hoped his taste in women had.
She waited until he sat on the redwood lounge. Then she stepped outside. She put the wine glass on the round wicker table and moved to the rail.
"Hi," she said.
Michael jumped to his feet. "What are you doing here? Visiting, I hope."
"I live here."
He shook his head. "You mean...Wait a minute. A Mr. Ekholm owns that unit."
"You're right."
"Then how can you say you live here?" He grasped the metal railing.
"I'm renting. Mr. Ekholm's a friend of Mom and Elmer. He's moved to Florida, but he's not ready to sell."
"I don't believe this."
His gaze centered on her midriff. Zelda sucked in a breath. He's interested, she thought. "Want to come over for dinner? To celebrate your arrival. I made Shrimp Scampi and I have beer in the fridge."
"I'll pass."
"Why?"
"You read my note."
"That was rude."
"Not rude. Just a warning." He grabbed the phone and headed to the door.
"But you love Shrimp Scampi."
"Not any more...The hospital. The patients. That’s all we’ll ever share. I mean that. My mind is set."
In concrete. "Michael West, you're impossible. You’ll be sorry.
***
Michael closed the sliding door. He was sorry all right. Sorry he hadn't investigated his neighbors before he closed on the condo. Sorry he hadn't discovered Zelda's presence in Grandvue before he accepted the partnership offer.
Is she so bad, an inner voice asked.
She's worse.
Really? You're attracted to her. She’s easy on the eyes.
He nodded. She was, but Zelda wasn't the type of woman he wanted at this stage of his life. Who
knew what kind of mayhem would erupt if he gave in to temptation and asked her out?
Or what kind of hurt would arise, especially for someone who’s put his entire life on hold for the next five years.
A frown wrinkled his brow. His life was moving forward as fast as he wanted. He glanced toward Zelda's balcony. She sat at the round table. The plate in front of her was piled high. His mouth watered. Why had he turned down her invitation? Maybe --
Forget it. That way lies madness.
He pulled a microwavable dinner from the freezer. Tomorrow he'd take time and track Grace down. The redhead would be the perfect charm to dispel his neighbor's siren spell.
***
The afternoon sun scooted behind a dark cloud. Friday and all's not well, Zelda thought. Five days since Michael's arrival at the hospital, and she'd made no inroads into his resistance. She'd heard rumors about his current female interest, but she chose to ignore them.
"Why doesn’t he ever look at me?” She heaved a deep sigh and glanced around. She hoped none of the sunbathers gathered around the condo pool had heard her complaint. She was decades from Social Security and just as distant from marriage to the man she'd loved since she was six years old.
With another sigh, she dropped the towel and the note she'd pulled from her apartment door onto one of the poolside lounges. Another note from Michael, and probably not one designed to make her heart flutter with delight. This was the second missive since he'd returned to Grandvue to join the busy surgical practice of Probst, Frankel and Miraglia.
This afternoon, she'd found the page torn from his prescription pad taped to her door with a strip of adhesive tape, the kind designed to remove skin. Of course the letter could have been stapled to her chest in a perfect example of a surgeon's revenge.
She slumped on the lounge and slipped off her sandals. Then with hope destined for destruction, she opened the note.
Dear Zelda, if you know what's good for
you, you'd better butt out of my life.
She was ninety-nine percent sure that was what he'd written. Six years of reading doctors' handwriting had developed her ability to translate the indecipherable -- most of the time.
This is a warning! Do not interfere this
time. My scalpel is honed. If you don't
remain uninvolved, I'll collect a bit of
flesh. I'm seeing Grace. She's the woman
of my dreams. Your reluctant colleague,
Michael.
Zelda groaned. Grace, the woman of his dreams and the creature of her nightmares.
She slathered sunscreen on her legs. Across the pool, a man rubbed lotion on a woman's back. For a moment, Zelda imagined Michael performing the same service for her. The image was so vivid, she could almost feel his strong surgeon's hands stroking her skin and his supple fingers massaging each vertebra.
The fantasy sent her pulse racing. Reality slowed the beat. She had as much chance of sharing that kind of moment with Michael as she did of catching bubonic plague. After all her name began with Z and he had just reached G. Since high school he'd pursued this alphabetic quest. She wrinkled her nose. Did he realize he chose his female companions for their position in the alphabet? Sure there were other reasons, but she refused to believe them. “Why didn’t my mother name me Ann, Bette or Claire? Then I’d have a chance to be married before I’m too old to enjoy.”
She wrapped her arms around her knees. She'd met his two college steadies, Claire and Donna. His med school and residency duo, Eileen and Fran, were mysteries. His mother had moaned that they were unlikely candidates to provide her with grandchildren before she reached senility.
Zelda knew Grace. Not in the imagination of the world's greatest dreamer will I ever become the woman of his dreams.
Michael's wants were few. A woman needed to be blonde, beautiful and bewitching. Or have red hair, be ravishing and regal. Or have ebony hair, exotic features and be enchanting.
She fit none of the above. Her ability to be a three B, three R or three E woman was nil. For the twenty years since she and her mother had moved into the house next-door, Michael had considered her a pest. Was it her fault odd things happened every time their paths intersected? Was she to blame if the women he dated became upset over the slightest trifle? Like the way Ann, his date for the senior prom, had gone ballistic. Zelda hadn't meant to fall from her perch in the oak tree, and she certainly hadn't meant to break Michael's arm.
She smoothed the blue one piece suit over her hips and strode toward the rectangular pool. The sun moved from behind a cloud making the clear water shimmer with iridescent red and orange hues.
Just as she prepared to dive in, her well-honed Michael detector caused her to pivot. She gulped a breath and devoured him with her eyes.
Sunlight burnished his hair to the copper-color of a newly minted penny. Gray slacks showed off his narrow waist and drew her attention to his muscular thighs. Over the years she'd watched those quadriceps develop from a boy's to a man's.
He held his jacket over one shoulder. His tie hung loose under the collar where he’d undone the top button of his shirt. Zelda sucked in a breath. Beneath the pale green fabric of his shirt, she envisioned his well-developed pectorals and his sun-bronzed skin.
As she thought about stroking his biceps and running her hands along his intercostals, her palms burned. Her heart thudded kettle-drum loud. A moan filled with anticipation escaped.
"Michael." His name flowed from her lips.
"Zelda."
His voice held none of the husky overtones she yearned to hear. Instead, he sounded like a harried physician dismissing the hypochondriac of the year.
"I got your note."
"Good." He edged past her. "See that you follow the doctor's orders. You've caused enough problems in my life, and I don't have time for damage control. Remember what happened with Claire?"
"Michael wait. I didn't know she was allergic to strawberries."
"And that's why you sent her a ten pound box of chocolate-covered ones in my name. Try again."
"That was years ago. I've changed."
"Sure you have...not."
Did he have to sound so skeptical? "What else are you blaming me for?"
"Donna."
"I didn't realize she was afraid of heights. Your mother took me to visit your college to see if I wanted to go there. Can I help it if your dorm was on the tenth floor? It’s not like I asked her to lean out the window with me. Donna was a twit."
Katherine Miller has retired from two careers, one as a nurse and the other as a church organist. Though she has no desire for a third career, she may be forced to become a detective. Her latest tenant has brought trouble to the neighborhood. When Rachel's body is found in Katherine's garden she recognizes the murder weapon and knows any of her near and dear could be the killer. She refuses to accept that a friend or relative could be the killer and seeks to find the culprit.
Shortcut To Love
Janet Lane Walters
Clocktower Books
ISBN: 0-7433-0375-X
SHORTCUT TO LOVE
Chapter One
The mob of creatures waving signs circled him, leaving no room for escape. His frustration level soared. No matter which way he turned, he faced another sign.
"College debts. Medical school loans. Credit cards. Condo. Car. Money for the house he planned to build."
A deep voice, akin to his father's, chanted words that gradually rang clear. "You must pay the debts. You must pay the debts."
The strange creatures joined the chorus. They twirled the ends of Dali-like mustaches.
From a distance, his mother's voice added to the cacophony. "Michael when will I see grandchildren? You know how badly I want little ones to hug."
Michael West bolted upright and stared at the clock. He rubbed his eyes. This wasn't Saturday or Sunday. He was going to be late for his first day as the junior partner of Grandvue Hospital's premier group of surgeons. He threw back the covers and strode to the bathroom.
As he showered, the nightmare circled in his thoughts. "Sorry Mom," he whispered. The stack of debts had to be liquidated before he chose a wife.
He grabbed a towel and briskly dried. He had a plan. Five years would see it to completion. Then he'd be ready to give the woman he selected for marriage the things he believed she deserved. He dressed in new gray slacks and a black blazer, grabbed his medical bag and headed out the door.
Though he wished he had time for a hearty breakfast, on the way to the hospital, he stopped at the deli for coffee and a croissant. Ten minutes later, he sat in the doctors' parking lot and ate his meager meal.
After stuffing the trash in the take-out bag, Michael pulled his long frame from the car and strode toward the entrance. Just as he reached the door, the senior partner of the practice called his name. "Slow down."
Michael waited for Dr. Probst. "Good morning, sir. I didn't expect to see you here this early."
The gray-haired man smiled. "Always first in. Good to see you're of like habits. Three cases on the schedule this morning."
"Will I assist with them all?" Michael asked.
"Eager to get your hands in?"
Michael grinned. "Sure am, sir."
Dr. Probst chuckled. "How well I remember those days. Before we head to the O.R., we’ll make rounds and I'll show you around the surgical unit.”
“Sounds good.”
“Then I'll introduce you to the new nurse manager. Young woman's a marvel. Been here six months. Shaped up the place and the staff. Not only smart, but quite a looker, too."
Michael's grin broadened. In November when he'd interviewed and toured the hospital, the nurse manager had been a starched older woman whose cold glare and thin-lipped smile made him think she detested young doctors. Young and pretty was more his style, especially if she was a woman who would be content with the company of a man with a five-year plan.
They left the elevator on the second floor and strode around the corner. When Michael saw the nurse seated at the long counter surrounding the open station, he abruptly halted.
"No," he whispered. “It can’t be.” He nearly bolted.
"Something wrong?" Dr. Probst asked.
Michael cleared his throat. "Nothing. I never expected to see--"
"Zelda, come meet the latest addition to the group," Dr. Probst called.
"Zelda." Michael groaned. The bane of his youth sauntered toward them.
His throat tightened. So did his gut. "You work here?"
He could have kicked himself. Why else would she be here dressed in a white uniform? A uniform that fit her slim body to perfection.
Dr. Probst beamed. "Michael, this is Zelda Carter, the miracle nurse manager."
Figures she’d find a way to plague me, Michael thought. The man was right about one thing. Zelda was attractive and probably efficient, but she was also a disaster attuned to Michael West MD. Like the visions seen by a drowning man, incidents flooded his memory. She had dynamited his high school romance with Ann and dive-bombed his summer fling with Bette.
Every time Zelda neared his vicinity, strange things happened. He tripped over invisible cracks in the sidewalk, dropped drinks and fumbled plates of food. In her presence he became an accident primed to occur.
He glanced at Zelda. Boy had she changed. Short, curly, brown hair. Blue eyes. Slender figure. His gaze lingered on her kissable lips, and he felt an urge to taste them. He sucked in a breath. Zelda? He jerked his eyes away from her mouth and forced himself to concentrate on his partner's briefing on the patients on the unit and the cases awaiting surgery.
His gaze and his attention strayed toward her. She kept her gaze on his partner. Zelda discussed the cases with Dr. Probst. Michael realized she was ignoring him more effectively than he ignored her. Still, he felt sure plans for destructing his life roiled in her head the way they always had.
A note, he thought. He'd write one and leave it in her office. Strong words designed to head her off. He pulled out a pen and scribbled on his prescription pad.
Dear Zelda, Nice to hear you're doing so
well. Let's work to keep our relationship
strictly professional. Unless you need to
talk to me about a patient, ignore me.
Your former neighbor, Michael.
After rounds, Michael followed Dr. Probst to the stairs. He paused at the door of Zelda's office. "Just a minute. I need to drop something on her desk."
Dr. Probst arched a brow. "Something brewing between you two already?"
"We used to be neighbors."
"Aha, the girl next-door."
Michael nodded. He wasn't about to explain the tangled past he shared with Zelda. He stepped into the office and placed the note on her desk. That should stop any problems, he thought.
As he and Dr. Probst reached the stairs, the stairwell door opened. A tall, gorgeous redhead exited. "Dr. Probst, good morning."
Her throaty voice, not to mention her voluptuous body, captured Michael's attention.
"Morning," the older doctor said. "Grace Lubke, this is Michael West, the newest addition to our team."
"Pleased to meet you, Dr. West." Grace's smile held interest and promises.
"Same here." Michael would have stayed to explore the possibilities, but his partner headed down the stairs. Michael started to follow and turned. "Grace, I'll see you around."
"I'll make sure you do."
Michael caught up with the older man. "Grace seems nice."
"She's a looker. Smart, too. Clinical Psychologist for the Mental Health unit."
Now I know where to find her, Michael thought. He intended to look her up very soon.
***
Zelda wanted to pinch herself, but she knew she wasn't dreaming. The bustle of her co-workers, the crackle of the public address system and the ringing phone told her she was fully conscious. Michael had returned home to practice surgery. She would see him every day. Maybe things would be different this time. Maybe he'd open his eyes and see the possibilities. Maybe there’d be no more strange and unusual occurrances when they met. Maybe she could find a crack in his stone heart and he’d know she was just right for him.
Never has, an inner voice reminded her.
She nodded. Too true. But this time she'd find a lure he couldn't resist. She inhaled deeply and swore the citrus scent of him lingered amidst the sharper hospital aromas.
"Ms. Carter, the lab,” the unit secretary called.
Zelda took the phone and jotted the patient information she'd requested. "Thanks." She turned to the unit clerk. "Karen, if anyone needs me, I'll be in my office."
"I'll let them know, boss lady. Oh, you need to call Nan."
"Right." Zelda strode down the hall. She had to inform the staff recruiter about the soon-to-be opening on the unit.
Inside her office, she reached for the phone and punched her friend's extension. After asking Nan to start the search for a qualified registered nurse, she saw the paper on her desk. When she noted the heading, her heart fluttered. Visions of Michael filled her thoughts. What did he want? Ignoring Nan's question, she drifted into a dream. His green eyes glimmered with interest. He smiled and asked her for a date.
"Zelda, are you there," Nan shouted.
She nearly dropped the phone. "Just spaced for a moment."
"So tell me. What's he like?"
"Who?"
"The new surgeon. The whole house is buzzing with curiosity."
"I have first dibs," Zelda said. "Don't you remember him? Six years ahead of us in school. Think red-gold hair and broad shoulders. Think football, basketball and baseball. Think handsome as sin."
Nan laughed. "Michael West. Wasn't he your dream man?"
"Was and is."
"Good luck."
"Thanks." Zelda hung up and read the note -- twice. Anger simmered. She leaned back in her chair. She should shred this. How could he be so cruel? She'd loved him for years. Sure he'd ignored her then, but that was before she'd grown up.
‘Ignore me.’ That's what he'd ordered her to do. She'd tried for years to forget him and failed.
She glanced at the signature. Your former neighbor.
Laughter welled, then gushed. She couldn't wait to see his face when he realized she lived in the same condo. Heavens, their balconies practically touched.
She folded the note and tucked it in her pocket. This proved he wasn't indifferent. The way he'd watched her this morning had triggered her hopes. His missive had solidified them.
Michael West, watch out. I'll find a way to capture more than your glances because I know something you're too blind to see. I'm your perfect mate.
***
Zelda stood at the sliding door leading to her balcony and waited for Michael to appear on his. She swallowed a sip of white wine. Plans for gaining his attention raced in her thoughts. She could knock on his door. Maybe she could stage a faint into his arms. Or she could kidnap him and keep him a prisoner until he declared his love. She couldn't choose one until she saw his reaction to her close proximity.
A noise brought her to full attention. Then she saw him. He held a beer in one hand and the phone in the other. His taste in beverages hadn't changed. She only hoped his taste in women had.
She waited until he sat on the redwood lounge. Then she stepped outside. She put the wine glass on the round wicker table and moved to the rail.
"Hi," she said.
Michael jumped to his feet. "What are you doing here? Visiting, I hope."
"I live here."
He shook his head. "You mean...Wait a minute. A Mr. Ekholm owns that unit."
"You're right."
"Then how can you say you live here?" He grasped the metal railing.
"I'm renting. Mr. Ekholm's a friend of Mom and Elmer. He's moved to Florida, but he's not ready to sell."
"I don't believe this."
His gaze centered on her midriff. Zelda sucked in a breath. He's interested, she thought. "Want to come over for dinner? To celebrate your arrival. I made Shrimp Scampi and I have beer in the fridge."
"I'll pass."
"Why?"
"You read my note."
"That was rude."
"Not rude. Just a warning." He grabbed the phone and headed to the door.
"But you love Shrimp Scampi."
"Not any more...The hospital. The patients. That’s all we’ll ever share. I mean that. My mind is set."
In concrete. "Michael West, you're impossible. You’ll be sorry.
***
Michael closed the sliding door. He was sorry all right. Sorry he hadn't investigated his neighbors before he closed on the condo. Sorry he hadn't discovered Zelda's presence in Grandvue before he accepted the partnership offer.
Is she so bad, an inner voice asked.
She's worse.
Really? You're attracted to her. She’s easy on the eyes.
He nodded. She was, but Zelda wasn't the type of woman he wanted at this stage of his life. Who
knew what kind of mayhem would erupt if he gave in to temptation and asked her out?
Or what kind of hurt would arise, especially for someone who’s put his entire life on hold for the next five years.
A frown wrinkled his brow. His life was moving forward as fast as he wanted. He glanced toward Zelda's balcony. She sat at the round table. The plate in front of her was piled high. His mouth watered. Why had he turned down her invitation? Maybe --
Forget it. That way lies madness.
He pulled a microwavable dinner from the freezer. Tomorrow he'd take time and track Grace down. The redhead would be the perfect charm to dispel his neighbor's siren spell.
***
The afternoon sun scooted behind a dark cloud. Friday and all's not well, Zelda thought. Five days since Michael's arrival at the hospital, and she'd made no inroads into his resistance. She'd heard rumors about his current female interest, but she chose to ignore them.
"Why doesn’t he ever look at me?” She heaved a deep sigh and glanced around. She hoped none of the sunbathers gathered around the condo pool had heard her complaint. She was decades from Social Security and just as distant from marriage to the man she'd loved since she was six years old.
With another sigh, she dropped the towel and the note she'd pulled from her apartment door onto one of the poolside lounges. Another note from Michael, and probably not one designed to make her heart flutter with delight. This was the second missive since he'd returned to Grandvue to join the busy surgical practice of Probst, Frankel and Miraglia.
This afternoon, she'd found the page torn from his prescription pad taped to her door with a strip of adhesive tape, the kind designed to remove skin. Of course the letter could have been stapled to her chest in a perfect example of a surgeon's revenge.
She slumped on the lounge and slipped off her sandals. Then with hope destined for destruction, she opened the note.
Dear Zelda, if you know what's good for
you, you'd better butt out of my life.
She was ninety-nine percent sure that was what he'd written. Six years of reading doctors' handwriting had developed her ability to translate the indecipherable -- most of the time.
This is a warning! Do not interfere this
time. My scalpel is honed. If you don't
remain uninvolved, I'll collect a bit of
flesh. I'm seeing Grace. She's the woman
of my dreams. Your reluctant colleague,
Michael.
Zelda groaned. Grace, the woman of his dreams and the creature of her nightmares.
She slathered sunscreen on her legs. Across the pool, a man rubbed lotion on a woman's back. For a moment, Zelda imagined Michael performing the same service for her. The image was so vivid, she could almost feel his strong surgeon's hands stroking her skin and his supple fingers massaging each vertebra.
The fantasy sent her pulse racing. Reality slowed the beat. She had as much chance of sharing that kind of moment with Michael as she did of catching bubonic plague. After all her name began with Z and he had just reached G. Since high school he'd pursued this alphabetic quest. She wrinkled her nose. Did he realize he chose his female companions for their position in the alphabet? Sure there were other reasons, but she refused to believe them. “Why didn’t my mother name me Ann, Bette or Claire? Then I’d have a chance to be married before I’m too old to enjoy.”
She wrapped her arms around her knees. She'd met his two college steadies, Claire and Donna. His med school and residency duo, Eileen and Fran, were mysteries. His mother had moaned that they were unlikely candidates to provide her with grandchildren before she reached senility.
Zelda knew Grace. Not in the imagination of the world's greatest dreamer will I ever become the woman of his dreams.
Michael's wants were few. A woman needed to be blonde, beautiful and bewitching. Or have red hair, be ravishing and regal. Or have ebony hair, exotic features and be enchanting.
She fit none of the above. Her ability to be a three B, three R or three E woman was nil. For the twenty years since she and her mother had moved into the house next-door, Michael had considered her a pest. Was it her fault odd things happened every time their paths intersected? Was she to blame if the women he dated became upset over the slightest trifle? Like the way Ann, his date for the senior prom, had gone ballistic. Zelda hadn't meant to fall from her perch in the oak tree, and she certainly hadn't meant to break Michael's arm.
She smoothed the blue one piece suit over her hips and strode toward the rectangular pool. The sun moved from behind a cloud making the clear water shimmer with iridescent red and orange hues.
Just as she prepared to dive in, her well-honed Michael detector caused her to pivot. She gulped a breath and devoured him with her eyes.
Sunlight burnished his hair to the copper-color of a newly minted penny. Gray slacks showed off his narrow waist and drew her attention to his muscular thighs. Over the years she'd watched those quadriceps develop from a boy's to a man's.
He held his jacket over one shoulder. His tie hung loose under the collar where he’d undone the top button of his shirt. Zelda sucked in a breath. Beneath the pale green fabric of his shirt, she envisioned his well-developed pectorals and his sun-bronzed skin.
As she thought about stroking his biceps and running her hands along his intercostals, her palms burned. Her heart thudded kettle-drum loud. A moan filled with anticipation escaped.
"Michael." His name flowed from her lips.
"Zelda."
His voice held none of the husky overtones she yearned to hear. Instead, he sounded like a harried physician dismissing the hypochondriac of the year.
"I got your note."
"Good." He edged past her. "See that you follow the doctor's orders. You've caused enough problems in my life, and I don't have time for damage control. Remember what happened with Claire?"
"Michael wait. I didn't know she was allergic to strawberries."
"And that's why you sent her a ten pound box of chocolate-covered ones in my name. Try again."
"That was years ago. I've changed."
"Sure you have...not."
Did he have to sound so skeptical? "What else are you blaming me for?"
"Donna."
"I didn't realize she was afraid of heights. Your mother took me to visit your college to see if I wanted to go there. Can I help it if your dorm was on the tenth floor? It’s not like I asked her to lean out the window with me. Donna was a twit."
Friday, December 3, 2010
Writing Tip -- The senses - Third book in contest
Before I hit the senses I'll announce the winner of book 2 in this mad contest. Cindy has won The Warrior of Bast. The next book up has a change of pace since it's a contemporary romance that;s actually a farce. A nurse/doctor romance written with tongue in cheek. Remember all you need to do to win is either be a member or post a comment on one of the blogs.
Here's a bit about Shortcut To Love. Zelda has loved Michael for most of her life but he seems to be working through the alphabet in his search for a wife. She's a Z and it will be years before he reaches her. Besides when they're together, strange events occur, usually to him. How can this nurse show the doctor shes' what he ordered to make his life complete?
There is no first chapter of this up as yet. Sometimes my ideas happen faster than I can make them happen.
Using the senses when writing adds depth to the prose. While there are 5 senses, those who write fantasy or science fiction can come up with 6. But I won't get into that this time. Maybe someday in the future I'll look at all the sixth sense encompasses. Think of the senses as the spice added to a soup or roast to enhance the flavor. Try not to get carried away and over spice your fiction though. This is like modifying too much.
Of the five senses, the one most used by writers of fiction is sight but often this is used in a pedestrian way. Such as he saw the old man. What you need to do is to add touches. suck as instead of she saw whatever, think something like this. She jumped back. The creature crawling on the sands reminded her of a giant spider. Gives a picture that could enchant or frighten.
Taste is another sense to use. Not only when the characters are eating food but there are other tastes. The acridness of the air puckered her mouth. This is probably a cliche, when his lips met hers, the bitterness of coffee startled her.
Smell. This is a great sense to use. Smells often bring memories to mind. The antiseptic hospital aroma made her sneeze and brought to mind other times, other hospitals and other tragedies in her life. The aroma of fresh baked cookies wrapped around her and sent her back to the days of her youth. Her nose wrinkled at the odors wafting from the unwashed body.
Touch. Often ignored but think of running a hand over the soft nap of velvet or the crisp stiffness of starched cotton. Think of the softness of a baby's skin or the roughness of a worker's hands. Feeding touch into the story can help the reader envision the characters, the setting and thus the story better.
Sound is another scent that can often be used in a pedestrian way. He heard footsteps. How much better is the scuff of leather on the concrete alerted him. Someone followed. Friend or foe?
So remember to use the senses in both dialogue and prose scenes. The senses can give a character flavor, advance the plot or to slip in a bit of needed information.
Here's a bit about Shortcut To Love. Zelda has loved Michael for most of her life but he seems to be working through the alphabet in his search for a wife. She's a Z and it will be years before he reaches her. Besides when they're together, strange events occur, usually to him. How can this nurse show the doctor shes' what he ordered to make his life complete?
There is no first chapter of this up as yet. Sometimes my ideas happen faster than I can make them happen.
Using the senses when writing adds depth to the prose. While there are 5 senses, those who write fantasy or science fiction can come up with 6. But I won't get into that this time. Maybe someday in the future I'll look at all the sixth sense encompasses. Think of the senses as the spice added to a soup or roast to enhance the flavor. Try not to get carried away and over spice your fiction though. This is like modifying too much.
Of the five senses, the one most used by writers of fiction is sight but often this is used in a pedestrian way. Such as he saw the old man. What you need to do is to add touches. suck as instead of she saw whatever, think something like this. She jumped back. The creature crawling on the sands reminded her of a giant spider. Gives a picture that could enchant or frighten.
Taste is another sense to use. Not only when the characters are eating food but there are other tastes. The acridness of the air puckered her mouth. This is probably a cliche, when his lips met hers, the bitterness of coffee startled her.
Smell. This is a great sense to use. Smells often bring memories to mind. The antiseptic hospital aroma made her sneeze and brought to mind other times, other hospitals and other tragedies in her life. The aroma of fresh baked cookies wrapped around her and sent her back to the days of her youth. Her nose wrinkled at the odors wafting from the unwashed body.
Touch. Often ignored but think of running a hand over the soft nap of velvet or the crisp stiffness of starched cotton. Think of the softness of a baby's skin or the roughness of a worker's hands. Feeding touch into the story can help the reader envision the characters, the setting and thus the story better.
Sound is another scent that can often be used in a pedestrian way. He heard footsteps. How much better is the scuff of leather on the concrete alerted him. Someone followed. Friend or foe?
So remember to use the senses in both dialogue and prose scenes. The senses can give a character flavor, advance the plot or to slip in a bit of needed information.
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Interview with Gianna Simone
The winner of the first book in the contest is Janice. I'll be emailing her soon.
The book to be given away today is The Warrior of Bast an alternate world fantasy romance taking place in an ancient Egypt. The first chapter is posted so you can read if you like. I do hope you'll plan to stay around and see what the site has to offer in the future.
The Warrior of Bast by Janet Lane Walters
Tira has always been fascinated by ancient Egypt, but circumstances and finances have kept her from becoming an archeologist. Her dream of seeing her older sister drug free is shattered by Luci’s murder by a drug dealer. Tira must run to be safe from the killer. A crumpled flyer offers an escape…The answer is in your stars.
Tira flees her pursuers and reaches a brownstone where two elderly women cast her horoscope. She is offered refuge but must undertake a dangerous quest. She will be unable to speak of her world, or anything alien to the culture she enters and… she will remain there forever.
Kashe is the unloved middle son of the nomarch of Mero. He reminds his father of the Nubian slave ancestor the nomarch wishes to forget. Though Kashe wants to become a warrior of Horu, his father has other plans. A desire for power drives the nomarch. To see his eldest son, Pian, as pharaoh, the nomarch plots with the priests of Aken Re.
Since the rebellion twenty years ago the Two Lands has been without a ruler. By making Kashe the leader of the priests' army the nomarch will have his desire satisfied. The arrival of a sacred hawk with an amulet naming Kashe as chosen by Horu thwarts the devious plans. The hawk also delivers a scroll speaking of three who will come from afar and that Kashe must aid one of these, whom he soon discovers is Tira.
The pair sets out on the quest for the symbols; the flail, the crook and the double crown. Tira learns this Egypt has many differences from the Egypt she has studied. They must face nearly insurmountable challenges as they pursue their sacred quest.
Now for the interview. Known the Gianna Simone for a long time and she's been a member of my critique group for some time.
1. What's your genre or do you write in more than one?
Primarily paranormal – various types, though I've written others as well. I've found I tend to prefer stories with those elements, vampires, witches, time travel. I've set them in fictional cities, real cities, modern times, and the past. And I also have stories set in various times that have no paranormal elements at all, though it's been some time since I've written a story without. The piece I'm working on for NaNoWriMo is a straight medieval, no otherworldly elements at all. Though I sort of have a ghostly encounter for my hero towards the end.
2. Did you choose your genre or did it choose you?
It definitely chose me – I've always been drawn to paranormal beings and happenings. I love a good ghost story, and as my critique partners, including you, Janet, know, I love vampires and witches.
3. Is there any genre you'd like to try? Or is there one you wouldn't?
Well, I'd like to write something in a science fiction type setting, I even have the beginnings of one, but it's not a genre I generally read, so I'm not as comfortable with some of the elements that belong in the genre.
4. What fiction do you read for pleasure?
Lots of things – primarily romance fiction. I’ve been leaning toward the erotic authors and titles more and more, but I will always read my long-time favorite authors. I loved the Harry Potter series so much, I find myself re-reading that, and sometimes even some of the books my 14 year old daughter is reading for English class. I also read fan fiction, though it's been a while since I read anything new in that area. If I do read fics, I stick to authors I know are good (and there are a lot of amazing writers out there in the fan fiction world that are as good as any published writer I've read). You have to be careful with fan fiction – something that sounds intriguing can make you want to burn your eyes out with acid once you read it.
5. Tell me a bit about yourself and how long you've been writing,
I hate this part! I love to talk about myself, lol, but when asked point blank, I never seem to know what to say! I’m proud of being a born and bred Jersey girl, but don’t ask me about any of those idiots on TV. I, and no one I know, is anything like them. I have two wonderful kids, and also work a full time day job, which seriously cuts into writing time.
As for how long I’ve been writing – as long as I can remember. I have very clear memories of writing short stories for extra credit in fourth grade. The teacher would give writing prompts – she’d cut out magazine pictures and staple them to paper, and we could write a story about it. I wrote all the time, and a lot of what I wrote was fan fiction, which I didn’t know it was called at the time. In my freshman year in high school, I wrote my first complete novel, which, in looking back, was a romance as well. My English teacher, Sr. Maureen read it for me and urged me to try and publish it, but I was too afraid to try. So I continued in my own little world, until I wrote a fan letter to Brenda Joyce I think. Her book “The Conqueror” really got to me, the hero was a real jerk, and treated the heroine so horribly, but I loved it. She wrote me back and urged me to find RWA. That was almost 20 years ago, and I’ve been at it ever since. Well, with a couple of lulls thanks to a couple of kids showing up!
6. Which of your characters is your favorite?
I can’t say for sure. Devlin Marchand holds a top spot, but I love Cole from Texas Tempest, Royce Langley from Heart of the Panther, and Adrian duLac from The Taste of Magic. Someday Cole’s and Royce’s will get out there.
7. Are there villains in your books and how were they created?
The funny thing is most of my heroes are inspired by villains! So the villains in my story have to be really really evil or insane and crazy. I’ve always liked the “bad boys” as it were – one of my favorite villains of all time is Hans Gruber in Die Hard. So suave and sexy – and downright evil. But creating villains in my own work is hard – I basically try and make them be someone who keeps the hero or heroine from getting what they want. Or they're someone that wants something of the hero/heroine's and does everything he/she can to obtain it.
8. What are you working on now?
Right now I am wrapping up my NaNoWriMo story – the sexy medieval I'm at the moment calling Passion's Vengeance. Then it's on to revisions, and I'm also working on revisions for the sequel to In The Devil's Arms. I hope to be done with both of them by January sometime, then I may go back to the sci-fi-ish piece I started. But I have another idea for a story set in the Magiste world in New Orleans.
9. What's your latest release and how did the idea arrive?
In The Devil's Arms came to me because, as I mentioned earlier, I'm a big fan of the Harry Potter books, and I wanted to write something in a magical world. So I just started tossing around ideas and characters, and they started to come to life in my head. Once I could visualize them, the story came into play. Of course, very few people know this, but when I sat down to write it, I just wanted to write what I felt like writing, and the damn thing took on a life of its own. The first final version was over 300K words! The characters just took me over and their story kept going. Of course, I've removed so many of the subplots, and can reuse them for other stories with new characters
10. Tell me about your latest book and how it came about. Enclose the opening of the book around 400 words.
In The Devil's Arms takes place in New Orleans, among the Magiste people, a magical society that lives side by side with ordinary, everyday humans. The Magiste helped settle New Orleans in my world. Someday I may go back and write a story about the original Marchands who settled there several hundred years ago.
Here's the opening:
Spring 1982
Devlin stared at his father. The older man couldn’t be serious.
"Devlin, you must complete the task." Maximilian Marchand’s angry voice rang out in the room as he came out from behind the massive oak desk. "This Saturday evening. DeGarza has an event planned, and it is imperative Helene Gaudet be present."
Devlin shook his head. He couldn’t do it, couldn’t turn her over to DeGarza, the psychotic fool his father blindly followed. "No, he’s wrong. She’s not . . . . .
He’s wasting
his time."
"And why is that, young Marchand?"
The voice behind him slid over Devlin like ice, chilling his soul. His stomach churned. "Sir, she’s not as powerful as you think; she’s merely a Creole, born of the Bayou."
Would the lie work? While not as strong or gifted as a Sorceress, Helene's
magical talents bordered on amazing. An Enchantress possessing such robust powers, while not rare, did not go unnoticed. The Tribunal who ruled the Magiste community kept a very close watch on all of its citizens and their level of magical skill.
"Yes, but her powers are quite strong for someone so young." DeGarza
approached, his height imposing, his narrow face cold and hard. "Her youth alone makes her magic so much more potent. It’s a shame for it to be wasted on Swamp Sludge."
DeGarza stopped right before Devlin. Devlin forced himself not to react to the vile name the man used to describe Helene. The effort to remain calm could possibly the most difficult thing Devlin had ever done since being forced to serve this madman. But he couldn’t obey this order. The idea of Helene at the mercy of a monster such as DeGarza sickened him, more than his own fear of the Sorcerer.
"You want her, don’t you? For yourself."
The knowing look on the evil man’s face spurred a panic Devlin hadn’t felt in years. He held his tongue. Yes, he wanted Helene Gaudet, had wanted her ever since he’d seen her last year at the Mardi Gras ball, escorted by one of his classmates. He wanted her to submit to him, wanted to play with her luscious body and make her scream his name with passion and pleasure. He’d never told anyone.
"If I claimed her, sir, I could control her. She would be bound to serve you." He prayed his promise would be enough to convince the insane, power-hungry sorcerer to back off.
The book to be given away today is The Warrior of Bast an alternate world fantasy romance taking place in an ancient Egypt. The first chapter is posted so you can read if you like. I do hope you'll plan to stay around and see what the site has to offer in the future.
The Warrior of Bast by Janet Lane Walters
Tira has always been fascinated by ancient Egypt, but circumstances and finances have kept her from becoming an archeologist. Her dream of seeing her older sister drug free is shattered by Luci’s murder by a drug dealer. Tira must run to be safe from the killer. A crumpled flyer offers an escape…The answer is in your stars.
Tira flees her pursuers and reaches a brownstone where two elderly women cast her horoscope. She is offered refuge but must undertake a dangerous quest. She will be unable to speak of her world, or anything alien to the culture she enters and… she will remain there forever.
Kashe is the unloved middle son of the nomarch of Mero. He reminds his father of the Nubian slave ancestor the nomarch wishes to forget. Though Kashe wants to become a warrior of Horu, his father has other plans. A desire for power drives the nomarch. To see his eldest son, Pian, as pharaoh, the nomarch plots with the priests of Aken Re.
Since the rebellion twenty years ago the Two Lands has been without a ruler. By making Kashe the leader of the priests' army the nomarch will have his desire satisfied. The arrival of a sacred hawk with an amulet naming Kashe as chosen by Horu thwarts the devious plans. The hawk also delivers a scroll speaking of three who will come from afar and that Kashe must aid one of these, whom he soon discovers is Tira.
The pair sets out on the quest for the symbols; the flail, the crook and the double crown. Tira learns this Egypt has many differences from the Egypt she has studied. They must face nearly insurmountable challenges as they pursue their sacred quest.
Now for the interview. Known the Gianna Simone for a long time and she's been a member of my critique group for some time.
1. What's your genre or do you write in more than one?
Primarily paranormal – various types, though I've written others as well. I've found I tend to prefer stories with those elements, vampires, witches, time travel. I've set them in fictional cities, real cities, modern times, and the past. And I also have stories set in various times that have no paranormal elements at all, though it's been some time since I've written a story without. The piece I'm working on for NaNoWriMo is a straight medieval, no otherworldly elements at all. Though I sort of have a ghostly encounter for my hero towards the end.
2. Did you choose your genre or did it choose you?
It definitely chose me – I've always been drawn to paranormal beings and happenings. I love a good ghost story, and as my critique partners, including you, Janet, know, I love vampires and witches.
3. Is there any genre you'd like to try? Or is there one you wouldn't?
Well, I'd like to write something in a science fiction type setting, I even have the beginnings of one, but it's not a genre I generally read, so I'm not as comfortable with some of the elements that belong in the genre.
4. What fiction do you read for pleasure?
Lots of things – primarily romance fiction. I’ve been leaning toward the erotic authors and titles more and more, but I will always read my long-time favorite authors. I loved the Harry Potter series so much, I find myself re-reading that, and sometimes even some of the books my 14 year old daughter is reading for English class. I also read fan fiction, though it's been a while since I read anything new in that area. If I do read fics, I stick to authors I know are good (and there are a lot of amazing writers out there in the fan fiction world that are as good as any published writer I've read). You have to be careful with fan fiction – something that sounds intriguing can make you want to burn your eyes out with acid once you read it.
5. Tell me a bit about yourself and how long you've been writing,
I hate this part! I love to talk about myself, lol, but when asked point blank, I never seem to know what to say! I’m proud of being a born and bred Jersey girl, but don’t ask me about any of those idiots on TV. I, and no one I know, is anything like them. I have two wonderful kids, and also work a full time day job, which seriously cuts into writing time.
As for how long I’ve been writing – as long as I can remember. I have very clear memories of writing short stories for extra credit in fourth grade. The teacher would give writing prompts – she’d cut out magazine pictures and staple them to paper, and we could write a story about it. I wrote all the time, and a lot of what I wrote was fan fiction, which I didn’t know it was called at the time. In my freshman year in high school, I wrote my first complete novel, which, in looking back, was a romance as well. My English teacher, Sr. Maureen read it for me and urged me to try and publish it, but I was too afraid to try. So I continued in my own little world, until I wrote a fan letter to Brenda Joyce I think. Her book “The Conqueror” really got to me, the hero was a real jerk, and treated the heroine so horribly, but I loved it. She wrote me back and urged me to find RWA. That was almost 20 years ago, and I’ve been at it ever since. Well, with a couple of lulls thanks to a couple of kids showing up!
6. Which of your characters is your favorite?
I can’t say for sure. Devlin Marchand holds a top spot, but I love Cole from Texas Tempest, Royce Langley from Heart of the Panther, and Adrian duLac from The Taste of Magic. Someday Cole’s and Royce’s will get out there.
7. Are there villains in your books and how were they created?
The funny thing is most of my heroes are inspired by villains! So the villains in my story have to be really really evil or insane and crazy. I’ve always liked the “bad boys” as it were – one of my favorite villains of all time is Hans Gruber in Die Hard. So suave and sexy – and downright evil. But creating villains in my own work is hard – I basically try and make them be someone who keeps the hero or heroine from getting what they want. Or they're someone that wants something of the hero/heroine's and does everything he/she can to obtain it.
8. What are you working on now?
Right now I am wrapping up my NaNoWriMo story – the sexy medieval I'm at the moment calling Passion's Vengeance. Then it's on to revisions, and I'm also working on revisions for the sequel to In The Devil's Arms. I hope to be done with both of them by January sometime, then I may go back to the sci-fi-ish piece I started. But I have another idea for a story set in the Magiste world in New Orleans.
9. What's your latest release and how did the idea arrive?
In The Devil's Arms came to me because, as I mentioned earlier, I'm a big fan of the Harry Potter books, and I wanted to write something in a magical world. So I just started tossing around ideas and characters, and they started to come to life in my head. Once I could visualize them, the story came into play. Of course, very few people know this, but when I sat down to write it, I just wanted to write what I felt like writing, and the damn thing took on a life of its own. The first final version was over 300K words! The characters just took me over and their story kept going. Of course, I've removed so many of the subplots, and can reuse them for other stories with new characters
10. Tell me about your latest book and how it came about. Enclose the opening of the book around 400 words.
In The Devil's Arms takes place in New Orleans, among the Magiste people, a magical society that lives side by side with ordinary, everyday humans. The Magiste helped settle New Orleans in my world. Someday I may go back and write a story about the original Marchands who settled there several hundred years ago.
Here's the opening:
Spring 1982
Devlin stared at his father. The older man couldn’t be serious.
"Devlin, you must complete the task." Maximilian Marchand’s angry voice rang out in the room as he came out from behind the massive oak desk. "This Saturday evening. DeGarza has an event planned, and it is imperative Helene Gaudet be present."
Devlin shook his head. He couldn’t do it, couldn’t turn her over to DeGarza, the psychotic fool his father blindly followed. "No, he’s wrong. She’s not . . . . .
He’s wasting
his time."
"And why is that, young Marchand?"
The voice behind him slid over Devlin like ice, chilling his soul. His stomach churned. "Sir, she’s not as powerful as you think; she’s merely a Creole, born of the Bayou."
Would the lie work? While not as strong or gifted as a Sorceress, Helene's
magical talents bordered on amazing. An Enchantress possessing such robust powers, while not rare, did not go unnoticed. The Tribunal who ruled the Magiste community kept a very close watch on all of its citizens and their level of magical skill.
"Yes, but her powers are quite strong for someone so young." DeGarza
approached, his height imposing, his narrow face cold and hard. "Her youth alone makes her magic so much more potent. It’s a shame for it to be wasted on Swamp Sludge."
DeGarza stopped right before Devlin. Devlin forced himself not to react to the vile name the man used to describe Helene. The effort to remain calm could possibly the most difficult thing Devlin had ever done since being forced to serve this madman. But he couldn’t obey this order. The idea of Helene at the mercy of a monster such as DeGarza sickened him, more than his own fear of the Sorcerer.
"You want her, don’t you? For yourself."
The knowing look on the evil man’s face spurred a panic Devlin hadn’t felt in years. He held his tongue. Yes, he wanted Helene Gaudet, had wanted her ever since he’d seen her last year at the Mardi Gras ball, escorted by one of his classmates. He wanted her to submit to him, wanted to play with her luscious body and make her scream his name with passion and pleasure. He’d never told anyone.
"If I claimed her, sir, I could control her. She would be bound to serve you." He prayed his promise would be enough to convince the insane, power-hungry sorcerer to back off.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Characterization -- The first contest book
Here's the first contest book. Remember, all you have to do is to comment on this post and tomorrow about this time I'll announce the winner and tell he or she how to reach me. There is the first chapter already up so if you're not sure this is the book that interests you, you can read a bit. And remember, there are fifteen other books to go.
Mistress of the Moons by Janet Lane Walters
The Three sworn to the Mistress of the Moons are dying. They must call three women out of time and space …
Ashiera…The Seer to Come,
Dian… The Warrior to Come,
and moon-touched Egeria…The Healer to Come.
As they make their way to The Place of Choosing in the Shanara Mountains, they face many challenges, many dangers, and in the chaos, each discovers the heroic strengths they hold inside…
Even as the women reach The Place of Choosing they face yet another test... They reject the teachings of their counterparts after realizing that only by acting with their male partners can they defeat the priests of the Lord of Shadows.
Will they survive the final confrontation?
Now a bit about characterization. When we meet someone new we generally make a judgment about their nature. We may not always be right but when writing fiction a person's face can tell a lot about a character. This is because the writer is using words to show people a bit about this person. Facial expressions can be used to show the hero, a heroine or even the villain. His mouth curved in a perpetual sneer. Her lips curved into a smile. These are quick expressions and I'm sure with a lot of thought the writer can show what a facial expression can do. Eyebrows arch. Foreheads wrinkle.
And there are the eyes. He smiled but the smile never reached his eyes. Dark eyes glittered with hatred. Blue eyes held a hint of laughter. The way a character uses the eyes. Stared in wide-eyed wonder, a cliche but it does give a picture perhaps. His eyes narrowed to needle points.
So when developing a character think about how you often judge people by their facial expressions or their eyes and how they use them.
Mistress of the Moons by Janet Lane Walters
The Three sworn to the Mistress of the Moons are dying. They must call three women out of time and space …
Ashiera…The Seer to Come,
Dian… The Warrior to Come,
and moon-touched Egeria…The Healer to Come.
As they make their way to The Place of Choosing in the Shanara Mountains, they face many challenges, many dangers, and in the chaos, each discovers the heroic strengths they hold inside…
Even as the women reach The Place of Choosing they face yet another test... They reject the teachings of their counterparts after realizing that only by acting with their male partners can they defeat the priests of the Lord of Shadows.
Will they survive the final confrontation?
Now a bit about characterization. When we meet someone new we generally make a judgment about their nature. We may not always be right but when writing fiction a person's face can tell a lot about a character. This is because the writer is using words to show people a bit about this person. Facial expressions can be used to show the hero, a heroine or even the villain. His mouth curved in a perpetual sneer. Her lips curved into a smile. These are quick expressions and I'm sure with a lot of thought the writer can show what a facial expression can do. Eyebrows arch. Foreheads wrinkle.
And there are the eyes. He smiled but the smile never reached his eyes. Dark eyes glittered with hatred. Blue eyes held a hint of laughter. The way a character uses the eyes. Stared in wide-eyed wonder, a cliche but it does give a picture perhaps. His eyes narrowed to needle points.
So when developing a character think about how you often judge people by their facial expressions or their eyes and how they use them.
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