It's Nanowrimo time!

It's Nanowrimo time and I'm getting excited to begin. I've decided to not write at all today. A kind of break before I begin whipping out the words. I've decided to do something crazy. Last year, I finished nano in 16 days. Because I was able to push myself like this, I decided that I'd do it again, but aim for 100k. Will I get that many words? Honestly, I don't know. But I want to try.

Why?

A: I want to finish the second book. 60k more words and I'll be done the outline/first draft of it. B: I also want to start a new project, one that isn't part of the Fatal-verse.

All in all, I want/need to develop a writing routine. To achieve what I want to, I'll need to get out about 4k a day.

Now, I don't do any preparation beforehand. I don't outline or anything. I'm a complete write-off-the-cuff writer. I do write as it unfolds to me. Therefore, this is going to be an interesting experience. I'm not going to think. I'm just going to WRITE and that's my goal, to get it on paper. If I achieve my goal, I'll have one first draft done by Dec 1st and then half or so of a second project.

Either way, it'll be interesting.

Getting it down.

"Get it down. Take chances. It may be bad, but it’s the only way you can do anything really good.” William Faulkner

This has been my mindframe I think pretty much the last few weeks. Or at least, it feels that way. I've been stressing to get to a certain wordcount by Oct 31, just before Nano and between editing and writing the short, I feel like I'm just trying to get anything out to make that count. Well, some is good. There's some moments I smirk at what I've written but there are still a few scenes where I just slap a hand to my forehead and wonder what I was thinking.

You know?

I know that they will change. That's what edits are for. I'm not perfect. I don't have any delusions that I'll get it right the first time round. And yes, I do have areas where I've placed "ADD ACTION HERE" in certain scenes, but I know that I'll get back to it. I just need to get things down... an outline of sorts. If I don't get it down, it won't get done. I'll either forget or... whatever. So I'm getting it all out on paper.

As much as I might sneer at some of the words written, at least I know it's down and it can be changed later. As is a famous quote, you can't edit a blank page.

Diva Release!

The Forbidden Chamber, from Samhain Publishing, Available today.

“Your life is forfeit if you open that door.”

All her life, Lady Isabel Colven has followed the path laid out for her, content to look neither left nor right for excitement. Her future holds a dutiful, passionless marriage to some nice young man, and she’s content…until the exotic and compelling Lord Rukh Hayle threatens her maidenly reserve. Rumor paints him as a wife-murderer; desire tempts her to look past his aura of danger.

Rukh refuses to let his family’s curse kill a third bride, but Isabel awakens the Raven within him, compels him to take her to wife—and to bed—despite the secrets that live under his skin. That lie is locked in the darkest corners of the manor, waiting to be unleashed. Their lusty union arouses the curse, entangling Isabel in an erotic tug of war that can only end in her destruction. There is no escape for either of them. Not from his family’s shadowy history. Not from demons imagined and real. And not from the choice Rukh faces to save his bride from a fate worse than death…

Warning: This gothic contains heady kisses that lead to ruin, passionate sex on a desk chair, a mysterious husband who may be a murderer, a cursed family of raven shifters, and an unspeakable evil hidden in the closet.

Read the excerpt.
The Forbidden Chamber is available from Samhain at MBaM.

Except Monday Holiday Full Free Read

Welcome to the special Halloween Full Reads for Excerpt Monday. This month, in addition to our typical excerpt week, we're having a week of full stories written by several fabulous EM writers.
Excerpt Monday site! or click on the banner above.

A little history behind Tripping Through Time: a Halloween Edition-- Nate Gurvitch is a psychic able to time travel. Both Meghan and Nate grew up in a world where kids are being trained for psychic ability. At the moment of this short story, Nate had triggered a time shift and they end up 2000 years in the past in Ireland during the beginning of Halloween or... Samhain.

Tripping Through Time: A Halloween Edition

Meghan Nikolaiev couldn’t breathe and it had nothing to do with the fact that she lay sprawled on top of a body, her face pressed against a hard chest. As she waited for the ground to stop spinning, she closed her eyes tight, fingers clenching around the scratchy material of Nate’s costume as though he were her last lifeline. “Nathaniel Ethan Gurvitch, you idiot.” She forced a breath and rolled over onto her back, resting her head on his shoulder, “I thought you said you had control over your ability.”

She heard his sharp gasp and the rattle of it as he exhaled. “I thought I did. What the hell did you do?”

“Me?” She opened her eyes and the darkness swirled around her, making her stomach knot. She fought nausea and the knee jerk reaction to empty her stomach of everything she’d consumed in the last five hours. Trying to distract herself, she stared at the hay that surrounded them and the blood red sky above. Great, where were they now? “I’m not the one with the ability to send us back in time Mr I-can-do-anything-I-want-without-consequences.”

Boys. It was just like them to take a situation gone awry and turn the blame around on the girl. And sixteen year olds were the worse because they were in that state between not quite a boy, and nowhere close to being a man.

“Shit.” He breathed.

Shit was right. Maybe if they were lucky, they wouldn’t be too far in the past. Or had he landed them in the future? The last time he’d brought them to Medieval Europe where they had to avoid losing their heads. Literally.

“Think you can get us back?” She moved to sit up and the air shifted around her again, making her groan. Pressing her hand to her stomach, she drew in a sharp breath through her nose and slowly let it out again in an effort to appease her rioting nerves. “You’d think that after time-shifting so many times we’d be use to it by now.”

She turned her attention down at Nate and noticed a bloodied gash over his left temple. Damn it. There went the appeal of bashing his head in herself. It was just no fun if he was already bleeding.

“How does any one of us know how to use our abilities?”

He wasn’t asking a question per say but being rhetorical and damn it, that wasn’t the answer she wanted. They were part of a program designed to create psychics so although they were trained, it wasn’t as though they knew how to use it. It was driven for the most part by instinct.

Reaching out, Meghan touched his forehead, pushing back the dark strands of hair to look at the gash. It wasn’t deep and wouldn’t need stitching, but it would need to be cleaned. She leaned closer and his eyes opened — the lightest of blues with moss green thrown in around his irises.

His gaze locked on hers and she couldn’t look away.

“Stop worrying. Are you ok?” His knuckles brushed along her jaw as he searched her face for scratches and bruises. The tumble they’d taken had been jarring, but she’d suffered no physical harm as they flipped into this time period. He’d broken her fall. “You’re not hurt are you?”

She shook her head, gaze following his movements as he rose up onto his knees beside her.

“I’ll be fine when we get back home.” Home. To their time. All she wanted at that moment was to snuggle up on the couch with her parents and watch one of those old cheesy movies they liked to watch.

Promise me, she thought, but didn’t say out loud, promise me we’ll get back.

“Fuck, my dad’s going to kill me.” Nate rose up to his feet, unfolding to his full six feet to take a look around. “I trashed his truck during that time-shift.”

They’d been inside the vehicle, driving when the shift had occurred. He’d said something stupid and she’d leaned over to punch him in the shoulder. They hadn’t been prepared. Hadn’t known what would happen.

“Why didn’t the truck go through with us?”

He shrugged, rolling his shoulders as though to loosen strained muscle. “Because it’s just the way it works. Otherwise I’d be pulling everything from rooms through with me. The only reason you came through was because the connection was made between us. We were physically touching, creating this… time vortex or however you want to explain it. I’m not a physicist.”

When he offered his hand, she reached up to grip it tightly, letting him help her to her feet. She came up to his chin, barely able to see over the hay. She lost her shoes during the episode. They had been coming back from a lame Halloween party at one of his friends’ place.

If it wasn’t bad enough that they were stranded in the middle of who knew where, she was wearing a cotton candy pink princess dress that fell just above her knees. All because of a bet she’d lost. What kind of freak could shove ten marshmallows in his mouth and still articulate “Chubby Bunny.”?

She shivered, the dusk air cooling as night fell. He stepped around behind her, arms wrapping around her waist and she leaned back into the heat of his body. “I think I saw the light of a bonfire in the distance. We’ll head that way and get a feel of where we are.”

She nodded and he dropped a kiss onto her forehead before stepping away.

Branches poked at her bare feet, rocks and mud making it uncomfortable to walk through. When she stumbled, he reached out and caught her arm, lowering himself close to the ground to allow her to leap up onto his back. His arms reached around, lifting her, holding her in place so that she didn’t fall.

As darkness grew, the glow in the distance brightened. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” Her grip tightened around him. She could see figures of people now, darkened shadows wearing animal heads and skins around the large bonfire.

Nate stopped at the edge of the field. “I don’t know anything of what I’m doing anymore but I don’t see how we have much of a choice. You should stay here.”

“And if you die then I’ll be stuck here alone? No way, Gurvitch. I’m your wingman. Just like in training.”

Except this wasn’t a training exercise and the reality that they could be stuck here was far more terrifying than anything else at that moment. Even the men wearing animal furs couldn’t scare her as much as the thought of not being able to go back home. A wind lifted her hair and she shivered, goosebumps rising over her bare skin.

She tapped on Nate’s should and he lowered her to the ground, knowing without words what she wanted.

“If we get separated,” he murmured, his eyes never leaving the men and women at the edge of the bonfire, “meet me back in the field.”

She wasn’t planning on letting him get out of her sight. “What I wouldn’t do for my gun right about now.”

His lips tightened in a grim smile. He wasn’t being cocky anymore. “Let’s get this over with.”

She didn’t know what she expected. Not a warm welcome but she also didn’t expect them to holler and stare. Those eerie stares pinned them and the smell of burning flesh assaulted her nose now. Instinct made her raise her hand, pressing her palm to her nose, her eyes tearing.

“Is that—”

“—dead animals, yes.” Nate finished. He slanted a glance over, his hand finding hers for a moment to give what should have been a reassuring squeeze. The heat of his skin slid along hers, his fingers tightening. “Crap, Meg. Where the hell are we?”

She couldn’t look away from those dead bodies or the flames that engulfed the pile of wood. Her heart pounded with bruising strength against her ribs. She lifted her free hand to the men that approached and slowly, eased her fingers apart, “We come in peace?” Spock was universal right?

“Are you crazy? This isn’t the time to pull a Star Trek. They probably don’t even understand the meaning of what you just did. For all we know that’s a ‘we mean war’ symbol.”

“Well what am I supposed to do?” She hissed. “I don’t want to end up like those… cows! This is a bad idea. We need to leave. Now.”

She wanted to turn, to run into the thick forest, but her body refused to listen. She found herself frozen on the spot and it had nothing to do with Nate beside her, holding her still, and everything to do with the men who held torches and bows and arrows. If she turned to flee, would they shoot her in the back?

She shot a glance over toward the line of dense trees, “Hey, what’s over there?”

“Not our problem right now. Focus on the current situation, please.”

She pressed her lips together but she was sure that she had seen glowing… eyes.

“They think we’re demon spirits.”

“I— how—” She shook her head.

He’d always been good at languages. She’d almost forgotten that his brain was a built in translator, literally. He excelled at dialects, past and present. It had something to do with his time traveling ability, some kind of adaptation his brain had taken.

She lifted her hands, “Um ok, I know I’m wearing a bubble gum dress and my friend here is… scary without even having to wear a costume but—”

“Stop talking right now.” He growled. “Look at the carved turnips and pumpkins on the ground. We went back to the beginnings of Halloween. They’re celebrating Samhain— when the veil between the living and the dead is believed to be the thinnest and that the dead return to earth.”

That would explain the illusion of eyes in the forest. Trick or treat?

She looked down at her pink dress. Crap. And then over toward his costume. He’d dressed as a skeleton. Double crap.

“Why’d you have to be a typical guy and try and dress all scary? At least with mine they might think… fairy or… that they had too much moonshine punch!”

“Actually, I think it’d be whiskey.”

“Whatever! That’s not the point.” Meghan pulled her hand from his, gesturing wildly to the Celtics— right? “The point is those very angry men who look like they think we’re going to burst into all that is evil.”

Because seriously, what the hell did you expect when you wear a skeleton costume? Candy and a good chuckle when they were in their time. Here, a good head chopping and being propped up and barbecued.

His hand caught hers, squeezed. He said something, but she didn’t catch it, the wind whipping the words from his mouth. The air grew colder and something wet splattered against the side of her face. Rain. Or she hoped it was and that it wasn’t the Celtic Gods pissing on them for their interference in the little Samhain ritual.

Maybe the rain would wash some of the white make-up from Nate’s cheeks and the black kohl liner from his eyes. Maybe. Or it might make him even more ghastly.

“Let’s get out of here.”

The stand-off ended. She didn’t know what triggered it. Maybe the fact that she’d spoken. Maybe they just generally didn’t like newcomers wearing skeleton and cotton candy costumes. Heck, maybe they just weren’t friendly. An arrow with fire on it whipped past her ear, singing the small hairs at her neck. “You focus on trying to get us out of here. I’ll…make sure they don’t get a chance to…eat us.”

She wanted to close her eyes, to focus past their garbled shouts in a language she didn’t understand, but knew were threats nevertheless. Terror kept her eyes glued on the fire they brandished as weapons. Meghan screamed and shot her hands down to the ground.

Earth exploded at their feet and spewed up into their faces… and all chaos broke loose.

She stumbled back a step and felt the lick of fire. A torch had fallen, the flames instantly igniting the dry hay. Nate grabbed her arm. He didn’t give her a chance to resist but pulled her with him.

He ran off into the darkness, into the thick of the hay. Overhead, thunder cracked and the sky opened up, rain battering down on them. An arrow shot at her and she jerked herself to the right, or as much as she was able to in a dress, and rose up onto her feet. One thing that made her unpredictable was that she didn’t do well under stress. She had her father’s gift of telekinesis.

She moved her finger and directed the earth beneath their feet to rumble, throwing branches like darts at the men that pursued. She didn’t look back, rushing through the tangle of hay and the shaking ground. If the Celts hadn’t thought them demons before, they did now.

She winced as her feet pounded down on broken branches and uneven ground. Something slammed into her, a heavy body that knocked the breath from her lungs. She hit the ground, head snapping back, hard enough that she saw stars. What the—

She saw the flash of colour and then there was a roar as the weight lifted off her. Blinking back the shadows from her vision she stared at Nate as he tumbled over the ground, throwing off the large bear of a man.

“Nate!”

She screamed for him, watching helplessly as a knife glinted in the flickering light of the fire and narrowly missed his head. There was no thinking involved, nothing but the instinct to protect him. She leapt at onto the other man’s back. “We are not spirits damn it! We’re trick or treaters!”

She fell back, biting her tongue as she hit the mud. Scrambling to her hands and knees, Meghan could only stare at the two men fighting on the ground. Please, she whispered, please be safe.

There were other worries at the moment. She had to let Nate handle himself because the others were approaching and the fire… it was engulfing the hay. The rain wasn’t going to be enough to put it out. Not before it did serious damage.

Forcing herself up onto her feet, palms sweating, she stared over at the others running toward them. She threw out her hands and they were flung back through the air. Nate scrambled toward her, grabbing her around the waist and hauling her against him. “Hold on! I’m not sure if this is even going to work but…it’s now or never.”

She clutched at him, turning her face into his throat as she closed her eyes, trusting him. It felt as though the space around her was closing around them, her body being compacted. She held Nate tighter, unwilling to let go. Heat rushed through her, followed quickly by a brush of icy cold. She lost all sense of equilibrium, not sure what was up or what was down. All she knew was that something was happening and that they were moving.

When they crashed into the ground, she rolled away from him, dragging in a much needed breath. Beneath her hands was something wet and cold. She grabbed a handful of snow and clutched it in her fist. She lifted her head to toss the hand made snow ball at Nate, but froze when she saw movement. Reaching over, she nudged Nate, “I think your compass is wrong. Please… please tell me we aren’t in the North Pole and that isn’t a polar bear.”

…To be continued… in the next Excerpt Monday Full Free Read December 21^st.

“Links to other Halloween Free Reads
Note: I have not personally screened these excerpts. Please heed the ratings and be aware that the links may contain material that is not typical of my site.

New ideas that are old ideas...

They say that there are no original ideas anymore. Everything is reused...over and over again. It's the spin you put on it and your characters that make something that's been used before new/different. I have a confession to make: this is one of my worse fears. You see, one thing that held me back in the past was this fact. I would think my idea is my own... until I read something or watch a show that is similar. What do I do then? Rewrite. It was my answer to it everytime, as though that would change things and this new idea would be different... only to find more similarities.

I still worry about this. But at the same time, I know that it can't be changed much. There will always be something that rings like your idea. For instance, I'm writing a Halloween Full Free Read for Excerpt Monday (due to be posted on Monday) and although I knew my idea wasn't original (I mean it's a time travel idea), there are always similarities like Quantum Leap (which I had never watched or heard of really), and Sliders.

But this is an idea I'm excited about and really want to write. Sure, I could scrap it like my 3 other attempts at a short, but you know what?, I like this idea and it'll be the particular storyline/characters that will make the idea of going back in time and not being able to go back to their own time different. Now, I just have to finish it. Time is running out! Eeks.

Guess I must get to it! How do you handle ideas that are similar to yours? Do you abandon at will or try to twist it in some way?

What I've learned...

I've been writing for about a decade now, although I haven't been serious until just recently. I'll admit that it was more of a hobby than anything, a dream that I always found an excuse not to fulfill or try to do. Those excuses have included: well the plot sucks so it needs to be rewritten from scratch (4x), characters don't have depth so it needs to be rewritten (2x), I don't have the time (ok granted doing school plus writing seriously was out. I couldn't go to school, work then find time to write. There was no time). These were just some of them.

What changed? Events shifted in my life and made my dream reachable, even thought I know I will still have to edit more and probably send out over 100 queries. But that dream of being a writer, of one day holding that book in my hand, each word written, each sentence edited... each query sent, brings me that much closer to that dream.

I'm still learning. But I've learned a lot. I've realized that I'm a pantser. Plotting blocks me and I just...can't...get through. Where I used to think that I could only write at night, I've found through a goals group I'm in that I can write during the day. My muse, is finicky but I can make it work. Those characters that I thought were flat? I feel as though they are more alive and that I can flesh them out. Yes, I may still have issues with pacing and plotting but you know what? I can still DO IT. I can write that plot (even if it needs to be reworked). I can even rewrite if I need to without giving up. I'm stubborn. This is MY idea. MY story. Yes, editing is grring at times, but you know what? I can take it. I can even take the critiques. I can be flexible and be stubborn at the same time. For different reasons but still...it's possible. In the past, I might have given up. Heck, I have. I've given up 3 novels mid-write because of a new fancy shiny idea to tease and flaunt my way.

I set my novel aside for almost a month while I reworked the first 3 chapters recently. I just picked up the rest to edit and yes, there are still things to be worked out, but honestly, it could be worse. My writing has grown. And I'm proud of that. Yes, I still have issues, but they are easily workable.

I'm working on the second book in the series now. Yes, I know there will be rewrites. I can point out the issues (well some of them ;) ) and tell you right now that the one plot needs to be strengthened and added to. But that's all still part of the learning process. Either way, first draft is scheduled to be done Dec 1st. Wish me luck!

Finishing that first manuscript, joining RWA, going to the DC conference, getting critiqued, getting that first R... it's all just something that's an ongoing learning experience.

So I'm curious. What has your learning experiences been like? What do you still struggle with?

Autumn muses

There's something about this time of year when the leaves are just starting to turn colour that inspires my muse. Ok granted, I could do without the cold. Seriously, I'm not a cold person. I like heat. I'm like a lizard in that way. This year has been a bit of a disappointing autumn just because there hasn't been much of one to begin with. It feels as though it has jumped right into winter without the usual fall benefits.

For instance, I'm already wearing my winter jacket and a sweater underneath. If that's going to be an indication that I'll need another warmer jacket, then... um ikes.

But I digress. I do love autumn. Not as much as spring but autumn will do in a pinch as well. There's something about the crisp air that stirs the ideas in my head. If you haven't visited Excerpt Monday, for instance, we're doing a Halloween Full Read. I cannot write shorts. In fact, I get hives just thinking of it. I get writer's block almost. Why? It requires the one thing that makes my muses tremble in fear: plotting. I don't plot. I'm a pantser all the way and I'm sure I've done a post about it before but I just can't sit and write out those little points in detail before writing.

Characters come first. Plot second.

This is what happened with this Full Read. I knew the characters but do you think I could come up with a story? No of course not. Thing I'm debating now is... YA or adult. I haven't quite put this together yet. I'm thinking YA because it fits the chars, but honestly, I have no experience in it. I suppose we'll see what happens. ;) The idea just came to me this morning so we'll see where it goes. I can't wait to write it. You can read it on the 26th when it'll be posted here and for more, visit the Excerpt Monday site. :)