Out of Line… and Loving It!


stockvault-school-children-testing147127It was all rather…

*pinches bridge of nose, trying to come up with the right word*

*negates “shocking” as too extreme*

*begs off of “alarming” as too, well, alarming*

*drops head to back of couch and sighs, deciding to go with the rather boring word of…*


It was all rather surprising.

There I was, busily adding meat and manly fluff to Quiver. With two weeks left to go before the deadline, I was having no illusions of adding any extra scenes to my shockingly complete outline. I was concentrating on evening out each chapter’s word counts and focusing on issues of flow, when suddenly…

I was writing the end scene.

To most authors who are working with an ordinary operating system (i.e. a sane mind), I’m sure the big finale scene is rather thought out. Planned on, even.

Yeah, well.  Let’s just say I do things a tad differently.

In my picture-perfect outline (which I still can’t believe I’ve got), all I’ve had written to describe the final scene was…. *coughs, sputters a bit*… well, was “the final scene.”

No detail.

No grand coming together of story and men.

No intricately weaved tying together of subplots and plots.


Just “final scene.”

I always like to leave the very end to write until, well, the very end.

But not with Quiver, baby!

The end scene is now half-written, where I’m going is clear in my head and it is all rather… surprising.

Not about to kick a gift ending in the mouth, I’m running with it.


Until tomorrow…


A Case for Either…


KONICA MINOLTA DIGITAL CAMERAThere’s a five-foot mummy in my living room.


a.) It’s October, or…

b.) The Egyptology class nightmares have taken a disturbing, corporeal turn. (If this is the case, that’s a professor wrapped up in that mile of dirty linen and looming over my coffee table. While teachers have always haunted my dreams, this is waaaaay ridiculous and I call foul.)

So, we’ll assume it is really October and I haven’t gone completely loony overnight.  While that may not be the safest assumption, let’s live dangerously and take it, shall we?

Thank you.

Quiver’s march to the finish line is continuing to go well and is right on schedule. Fifteen days to go and I haven’t even thought about hitting the panic button yet.


a.) That handful of Prozac I pop every morning is an overachieving bunch, or…

b.) Quiver really is going that well.

Admittedly, that’s a bit of a toss-up there. But as the mummy says to go with “b,” we’ll go with “b”.

I learned a long time ago never to argue with a teacher.

Until tomorrow…


The Gorilla Glue Days


stockvault-gorilla103083A giant, wet sponge.

That’s been my weather for the last forever… (i.e. five, excruciatingly long, “Where the crap is the sunshine in the freaking Sunshine State!?” days.)

I don’t do sponge-weather well.

At all.

While my writing is going surprisingly well and speedy, the rest of the universe seems to be dragging like a dead weight…. up a hill… made of molasses and gorilla glue.

So, in an act of supreme kindness on my part, I will not keep you here more than a bloated tic of that ever-infuriating clock.

You’re welcome.

Now, run before the sponge gets you too.

Until tomorrow…


(SIDE NOTE: This miniscule, scrawny, frankly pitiful post took THIRTY stupid minutes to write! No further proof of sponginess is required.)

The Final Stretch


stockvault-a-cute-young-girl-on-a-track-field158954And here we go!

The frantic, frenetic, final push to Quiver’s deadline on October 15 begins today.


(I realize there should be exclamation points latched on to that “Yippee” but I’m feeling a bit ornery this morning and simply refuse to add them. Alas, this is probably my one rebellious act of the day as there’s considerable work to do. *sighs*)

As I mentioned in yesterday’s post, I’ve got myself a mighty fine outline to guide my way to Quiver’s end.

There’ll be no getting lost with this baby.

No Crimean Wars popping up out of the blue… (I have a history of this. Seriously. *lol*)

No uninvited supporting characters barging their way into the last edits of the novel, flailing their arms, screaming like banshees and making a general nuisance of themselves… (‘Tis true. Another honest story. And perhaps the reason I no longer write paranormal romance, a genre which attracts last minute banshees like moths to a flame.)

Yes, it’s looking to be a relatively boring final push to the end…

And ain’t that freaking grand!

Until tomorrow…


Surprises Are Good


stockvault-kid-sketch115184So there I was, busily digging up my mountain of a climax and moving it a hair’s breadth closer to Quiver’s end. Covered from head to toe in well-versed smut, I was paying little attention to anything but my fool’s errand of a task.

When I finally dragged myself out of the muck and f*ck, I was absolutely shocked to find lying at my feet a complete, utterly exacting outline of my book.

See, while I usually work off of an outline at this point of the process (only 18 days away from the deadline) rarely does the story have more than a second-cousin-once-removed relationship with that outline. During this last mad dash to the end, the novel has usually grown out of its carefully sculpted terracotta pot and blossomed in the most unusual places.

Not this time.


Maybe it’s because of all my frenetic micro-management of the climax?

Maybe it’s because this story is an ornery, fiery, little marvel with a mind all its own?

Whatever the reason, I’ve got myself an extremely detailed, down to each scene’s POV, down to each scene’s freaking word count kind of an outline to guide me through to the end.


I’m kind of dumbfounded by the whole thing.

You know, scratching my head and guppy-facing at the screen.

I think I’m going to like this.

Oh yeah.

I’m going to like this a whole heck of a lot.

Until tomorrow…


Kicking & Screaming


TravelA little fanfare, if you please!

*waits for the confetti and streamers to settle with a graceful hush to the floor*

I have just dragged -kicking and screaming and nipping with darn sharp teeth-  the climax of Quiver (Book Three) from the metaphorical plains of Kansas to the mountains of Colorado!

*waits for the confusion and the “WTF?”s to die down to a manageable grumble*

In other, much clearer words, I have somehow managed to shove and finagle the climactic event of Quiver from the halfway point back to the 3/5 point!

Chapter 12 (out of 20) now houses the big bang of the book.

My pyramid now leans!… (See yesterday’s blog for this sentence make any sense whatsoever.)

If you follow this blog faithfully, you’ll know this is a super, big deal. It is a terrific accomplishment that means 2 very important things.

1.) Quiver can now be said to flow energetically instead of hiccupping abruptly… Yeah!

2.) I can now shut the freak up about line graphs, pyramids, geographical metaphors requiring maps and arithmetic and storyline arcs… Party time! (Hence the earlier call for confetti.)

Pardon me while I go bask in my small but brutally fought for victory.

Have a terrific Saturday, folks!

Until tomorrow…


The Quivering Point


stockvault-pyramid140066I woke up this morning and stumbled out of bed to find a pyramid in my room.

Yep. A pyramid.

Not the pink elephant or giant gorilla most people have sucking up oxygen in their proverbial room.

Nope. I’ve got a pyramid.

Khufu-esque in its grandiosity.

A regular Giza in my den.

Now before laments for my obviously spent sanity are begun, let me just assure you that I’m talking writing here, not psychiatry.

The challenge of Quiver’s (that would be Book Three) halfway point climax and its pyramidal storyline arc has taken on a monumentality that would have dropped even a pharaoh’s jaw.

At this point, it’s not so much about its shape as it is about its size and its immovability. I can’t get my mind around the stupid pointy thing. And as much as I shove and shovel it this way or that, the climax ain’t moving, not even a smidge.

It’s frustrating and the freaking sand is everywhere.

Digging myself out of this mess will indeed be interesting.

Until tomorrow…


Power Play


stockvault-power-lines105093Psychiatrist day.

You’ve been forewarned.

*smiles a little nervously while glancing at the clock*

Early appointment today. !2:30pm. Same doctor. New office.

Like power surges in an unreliable electricity grid, I’ve been shrugging off little jolts of threatening panic every now and again for a week now.

Stupid mind.

Tired of thinking about it actually. Let’s talk writing, shall we?

Like the trooper that I am, I have been steadily piling on words to the tail end of Book Three (that would be Quiver, by the way). Bulking up the post climactic half of the novel is key in the next week.

Once I get things (i.e. scenes, word count, sexual encounters)mmore leveled out, I can concentrate on sewing everything together. And then (hopefully)… Voila! Romance novel magic!

But first…

Psychiatrist day.

I feel another panic surge coming on. Time to go ground myself.  *smirks*

Until tomorrow…


The Odd Bullseye


stockvault-grant-cavalry-memorial133137So with climactic spike firmly attached to center of storyline graph, I soldier on…

(Now, if that isn’t an award-winning, jaw-dropping opening line, I simply don’t know what is. Sounds more like a dirge to a mathematical failure than a blog post. *rolls eyes but does, in fact, soldier on*)

Quiver (that’s the infamous Book Three’s title for all those who missed the surprise announcement yesterday) is now on track to crest at the halfway point of the festivities.

I’m now taking this as a challenge instead of a dilemma.

With that mindset, I have divided all the partial and completed scenes of the novel into three categories: Before, During and After.  Separating everything out into divisions relative to the climactic jolt has shown me that I’ve got a heck of a lot of work to do on the tail-end of this behemoth.

Well, I guess you could call that a plan of attack.

Sort of.

In the broadest sense of the word.

I’m thinking a great military mind would need more than “aim at the ass” before heading into battle, but what do I know?

Clearly nothing.

Jeez, this is going to get messy.

Until tomorrow…


The Premature Climax


stockvault-hand-firworks104934The nuts ran a little amuck last night, so pardon the almond shavings and pistachio stains all over the floor.

(Yes, my nuttiness is multi-flavored. If I’m going to go crazy, I’m going to do it gourmet dammit. *smirks*)

But that is neither here nor there. I’m here to talk writing.

As I confessed several days ago, Book Three of “The Lion and the Steed” series is suffering from storyline arc issues.  Premature climaxing, to be exact.

After many hours of struggling with this potentially tacky situation, I’ve come to the decision to simply let it go.

No extraordinary measures will be taken.

No special forces will be deployed to delay orgasm.

The climax will be allowed to climax whenever the “writhing” and the “pounding” end and turns to explosive “quivers.”


A premature climax has just occurred right here in this blog!

The title of Book Three is, indeed… “Quiver”!

See? Sometimes a little early fulfillment is a very good thing.


Until tomorrow…