Hi paranormal junkies...uh, I mean that only in the nicest of ways, of course. Since I can't be with you today...I'm working on a friend's WIP...but *whew and phew* I did finish my first round of edits on Tangerine Carnal Dreams, coming from Aspen Mountain Press...
But just for fun I thought I'd give you the beginning of my mss, Secret Lives of Fortunate Wolves ~ Chapter One ~
Excerpt:
Werewolves of London, Coming to America – by Robert Bateman.
Keira shoved her cousin’s latest article-writing attempt into one of her bags, on top – while the phone rang.
"Aunt Debbie, hello. What can I do for you?" Keira shouldered the phone while trying to tie her shoe – a comfy black suede half-boot.
"Dear, are you busy?"
"On my way out – taking some of my jewelry pieces up to Diane. Got Rob’s article. I’ll proof read it tonight."
"Your mother said you were going up that way."
"What is it, Aunt Debbie?" Keira attempted patience, slowing her breaths.
"Hunting the American Werewolf."
"Are you talking about Rob or Coast-to-Coast – when Linda Godfrey was on?"
Keira forced in more patient breaths and stilled the anxious whirl inside her head.
"Yes, Ian’s Punnett’s new show. I’m worried about Rob..."
Keira tingled, an eery crawling in her stomach she didn’t like.
"What’s going on, Aunt Debbie?"
"Rob hasn’t called..."
Keira tingled all over, fiercely. Rob’s fanatic hobby was cryptozoology, chasing after unknown or paranormal creatures.
"What’d he do – grab all his camera gear? Head up to Lake Geneva to hunt for the American Werewolf?"
"Yes...and he hasn’t called."
"Where is he supposed to be, Aunt Debbie?"
"He’s staying at a small motel, The Half Moon. I spoke with him three nights ago. Rob said he would call last night."
"What town, Aunt Debbie?" Keira asked. Worry furrowed her brow – Rob always called his mother, being a bit of a mother’s boy.
"Tiny place – don’t even think it’s on the map. Blue Moon Bay."
"Road sign for a turn off – seen that. Yeah, I’ll stop. Check in on him."
"Thanks, dear. Be careful. Storm movin’ in I heard. On the morning news."
"Call you on the cell – you do have my number?" Keira hefted the last bag over her free shoulder, and reached for her purse – one she had glitter-designed. Just for the fun of it.
"Yes. Your mother gave it to me. Blessed be, dear."
"Blessed be." Keira set her phone down, rushing for the front door. And toward her car, a 94 Eclipse, she called the Plum Silver Goddess.
Blasting the radio up, her favorite music station, she drove toward the old two-lane highway. Toward the Land of Linda Godfrey’s american werewolves – in rural Wisconsin, east of Lake Geneva . Keeping her speed-itching foot under control, Keira stayed at her usual five miles over the speed limit.
"I wish I owned the power to manipulate time," she dramatically murmured, just for herself. She twitched her nose, a skill she had practiced since seeing Samantha on Bewitched – one of her mother’s old favorite tv shows. As a mere child she had been magically awestruck.
"Born to be wild..." She belted out with the song, revving up her spirits, and quickening her pulse to wonderfully reckless. She rocked in her seat rhythmically, singing along with the radio tunes. While farmland turned to forest. And sparse forest became deeper forest. Above the towering trees – trees she as always thought of as majestic mystic beings – gray skies became the shade of pewter.
As she entered denser darker forest, the rains came. Slashing sheets of rain.
Wipers on high, she leaned forward, her gaze focused on following the yellow line. At the same time, she glanced up watching for the turn off sign to Blue Moon Bay.
"Oh crap!" Keira pressed her accelerator again. And again. No response. Gradually her car slowed down. While the pit of her stomach churned to near panic, and the rain slashed at her.
"Now what!?"
She guided her car onto the highway’s narrow shoulder, carefully, letting it roll until it stopped. Turning it off , she tried to calm herself with memories of past rescues.
"Another crisis! In a long series of crisis," she muttered. She reached for her cell phone. "Just what I need. – Why didn’t I get the phone number to the Half Moon?"
Taking another deep breath, she silently asked, "What now, Goddess?" She stared down at her cell, wondering who she should try to reach. Her mother didn’t drive. Aunt Debbie didn’t have a car. And all her friends would be working, brutally busy with their lives.
"No service," she stated flatly, not greatly surprised by her fate. "Well, that solves that. Can’t call anyone anyway."
Bad luck had been her constant companion for the last several years – despite her best efforts to change her luck, her exhausting, endless efforts to keep her karma right.
"Help," she appealed to God, Goddess, her Guardian Angel.
Keira sat calmly, and waited. Waited for something. Anything good. Her mind spun chaotically, searching for any idea out of her horrid predicament.
"I definitely need help – a miracle or two," she spoke moments later. Again to her Guardian Angel. Or any Good Being. Out there.
She waited, watching the rain glisten-pour down her windshield. Watching the rain rage. She waited, observing her own internal battle. Calm or panic? Both tore at her – the giant claws of an ether monster she couldn’t see or identify.
"Direct from hell. Or the X-Files," she murmured.
Then a glint in her rearview mirror caught her eye.
Glancing up, she saw the flashing lights of a Patrol car as it rolled up behind her.
"Friend or foe?" she wanted to ask whoever was behind the wheel – remembering the news stories of bad cops, of bad men impersonating cops.
"Not a Patrol uniform. More of a sheriff’s look," she murmured, watching the man in her side mirror, when he emerged. No rain gear. Not even a hat. But armed. Definitely armed.
"Armed and dangerous?" she automatically asked herself.
"Geez!" Keira sat up straighter, her insides suddenly wild and wanton-simmering. "He’s gorgeous. Gorgeous hair!" Long, flowing to his shoulders, his hair was being rain slickened – revealing his sculpted, rather exotic-appearing features.
"Rain god impersonating a mere human male?" she asked herself.
Against all her wishes, Keira’s loins came to twisting life. The bold, arrogant-casual way he strode toward her side window. His thighs – sleek and powerful muscle – she wanted to carve them with her hands.
"My God!" She broke out in a light sweat, even as she began to open her door, even as she prepared for the onslaught of rain.
"Hello," she began, glad her voice didn’t give away her throbbing pulse.
"Follow me," he invited, more than commanded.
Once she had grabbed up her purse, he pivoted toward his car. No protection from the downpour, Keira plunged out into the drenching rain, dashing behind him – and hoped he wasn’t the devil incarnate. Posing as a rain god.
But just for fun I thought I'd give you the beginning of my mss, Secret Lives of Fortunate Wolves ~ Chapter One ~
Excerpt:
Werewolves of London, Coming to America – by Robert Bateman.Keira shoved her cousin’s latest article-writing attempt into one of her bags, on top – while the phone rang.
"Aunt Debbie, hello. What can I do for you?" Keira shouldered the phone while trying to tie her shoe – a comfy black suede half-boot.
"Dear, are you busy?"
"On my way out – taking some of my jewelry pieces up to Diane. Got Rob’s article. I’ll proof read it tonight."
"Your mother said you were going up that way."
"What is it, Aunt Debbie?" Keira attempted patience, slowing her breaths.
"Hunting the American Werewolf."
"Are you talking about Rob or Coast-to-Coast – when Linda Godfrey was on?"
Keira forced in more patient breaths and stilled the anxious whirl inside her head.
"Yes, Ian’s Punnett’s new show. I’m worried about Rob..."
Keira tingled, an eery crawling in her stomach she didn’t like.
"What’s going on, Aunt Debbie?"
"Rob hasn’t called..."
Keira tingled all over, fiercely. Rob’s fanatic hobby was cryptozoology, chasing after unknown or paranormal creatures.
"What’d he do – grab all his camera gear? Head up to Lake Geneva to hunt for the American Werewolf?"
"Yes...and he hasn’t called."
"Where is he supposed to be, Aunt Debbie?"
"He’s staying at a small motel, The Half Moon. I spoke with him three nights ago. Rob said he would call last night."
"What town, Aunt Debbie?" Keira asked. Worry furrowed her brow – Rob always called his mother, being a bit of a mother’s boy.
"Tiny place – don’t even think it’s on the map. Blue Moon Bay."
"Road sign for a turn off – seen that. Yeah, I’ll stop. Check in on him."
"Thanks, dear. Be careful. Storm movin’ in I heard. On the morning news."
"Call you on the cell – you do have my number?" Keira hefted the last bag over her free shoulder, and reached for her purse – one she had glitter-designed. Just for the fun of it.
"Yes. Your mother gave it to me. Blessed be, dear."
"Blessed be." Keira set her phone down, rushing for the front door. And toward her car, a 94 Eclipse, she called the Plum Silver Goddess.
Blasting the radio up, her favorite music station, she drove toward the old two-lane highway. Toward the Land of Linda Godfrey’s american werewolves – in rural Wisconsin, east of Lake Geneva . Keeping her speed-itching foot under control, Keira stayed at her usual five miles over the speed limit.
"I wish I owned the power to manipulate time," she dramatically murmured, just for herself. She twitched her nose, a skill she had practiced since seeing Samantha on Bewitched – one of her mother’s old favorite tv shows. As a mere child she had been magically awestruck.
"Born to be wild..." She belted out with the song, revving up her spirits, and quickening her pulse to wonderfully reckless. She rocked in her seat rhythmically, singing along with the radio tunes. While farmland turned to forest. And sparse forest became deeper forest. Above the towering trees – trees she as always thought of as majestic mystic beings – gray skies became the shade of pewter.
As she entered denser darker forest, the rains came. Slashing sheets of rain.
Wipers on high, she leaned forward, her gaze focused on following the yellow line. At the same time, she glanced up watching for the turn off sign to Blue Moon Bay.
"Oh crap!" Keira pressed her accelerator again. And again. No response. Gradually her car slowed down. While the pit of her stomach churned to near panic, and the rain slashed at her.
"Now what!?"
She guided her car onto the highway’s narrow shoulder, carefully, letting it roll until it stopped. Turning it off , she tried to calm herself with memories of past rescues.
"Another crisis! In a long series of crisis," she muttered. She reached for her cell phone. "Just what I need. – Why didn’t I get the phone number to the Half Moon?"
Taking another deep breath, she silently asked, "What now, Goddess?" She stared down at her cell, wondering who she should try to reach. Her mother didn’t drive. Aunt Debbie didn’t have a car. And all her friends would be working, brutally busy with their lives.
"No service," she stated flatly, not greatly surprised by her fate. "Well, that solves that. Can’t call anyone anyway."
Bad luck had been her constant companion for the last several years – despite her best efforts to change her luck, her exhausting, endless efforts to keep her karma right.
"Help," she appealed to God, Goddess, her Guardian Angel.
Keira sat calmly, and waited. Waited for something. Anything good. Her mind spun chaotically, searching for any idea out of her horrid predicament.
"I definitely need help – a miracle or two," she spoke moments later. Again to her Guardian Angel. Or any Good Being. Out there.
She waited, watching the rain glisten-pour down her windshield. Watching the rain rage. She waited, observing her own internal battle. Calm or panic? Both tore at her – the giant claws of an ether monster she couldn’t see or identify.
"Direct from hell. Or the X-Files," she murmured.
Then a glint in her rearview mirror caught her eye.
Glancing up, she saw the flashing lights of a Patrol car as it rolled up behind her.
"Friend or foe?" she wanted to ask whoever was behind the wheel – remembering the news stories of bad cops, of bad men impersonating cops.
"Not a Patrol uniform. More of a sheriff’s look," she murmured, watching the man in her side mirror, when he emerged. No rain gear. Not even a hat. But armed. Definitely armed.
"Armed and dangerous?" she automatically asked herself.
"Geez!" Keira sat up straighter, her insides suddenly wild and wanton-simmering. "He’s gorgeous. Gorgeous hair!" Long, flowing to his shoulders, his hair was being rain slickened – revealing his sculpted, rather exotic-appearing features.
"Rain god impersonating a mere human male?" she asked herself.
Against all her wishes, Keira’s loins came to twisting life. The bold, arrogant-casual way he strode toward her side window. His thighs – sleek and powerful muscle – she wanted to carve them with her hands.
"My God!" She broke out in a light sweat, even as she began to open her door, even as she prepared for the onslaught of rain.
"Hello," she began, glad her voice didn’t give away her throbbing pulse.
"Follow me," he invited, more than commanded.
Once she had grabbed up her purse, he pivoted toward his car. No protection from the downpour, Keira plunged out into the drenching rain, dashing behind him – and hoped he wasn’t the devil incarnate. Posing as a rain god.
Trot on over to Title Magic, Big Kitties. Lexie presents her thoughts on how to improve one's chances of becoming a published writer. Mew-sings below.
Hi Lexie, I think you've raised some excellent issues. Truthfully, I have no answers for you. I help wherever I can and whomever I can, but it's not formalized as in a chapter setting, except for the Passionate Ink chapter of RWA, where we all help each other, especially via the forum.
As I've mentioned before, my journey has not been one which should be followed by anyone else. There was no step-by-step process. It was guided by a Divine Hand in a very mysterious and mostly incomprehensible manner to me. Or, to say it differently, it makes no logical sense whatsoever.
I'm sorry to hear various chapters are having problems. I personally think the contest market is over done, so to speak. Meaning too many contests for the amount of entries available. And with economic times now more difficult, who can afford it? Time, of course, is also at a premium. I do as much as I can, and it's never quite enough in terms of promotional opportunities.
This isn't an easy business, unless, it's just your hobby. Something you're doing purely for the fun of it.
I know I haven't really answered your real questions and concerns. And I am sure there are others much more qualified. However, if I can help you in any way, I will.
BTW, I liked your story premise, the one you talked about at the beginning of CJ Lyon's blog.
As I've mentioned before, my journey has not been one which should be followed by anyone else. There was no step-by-step process. It was guided by a Divine Hand in a very mysterious and mostly incomprehensible manner to me. Or, to say it differently, it makes no logical sense whatsoever.
I'm sorry to hear various chapters are having problems. I personally think the contest market is over done, so to speak. Meaning too many contests for the amount of entries available. And with economic times now more difficult, who can afford it? Time, of course, is also at a premium. I do as much as I can, and it's never quite enough in terms of promotional opportunities.
This isn't an easy business, unless, it's just your hobby. Something you're doing purely for the fun of it.
I know I haven't really answered your real questions and concerns. And I am sure there are others much more qualified. However, if I can help you in any way, I will.
BTW, I liked your story premise, the one you talked about at the beginning of CJ Lyon's blog.
Just another paranormal kiss from the Kougar...
