I’ve been making up
stories since I was a little girl. In fact, I still have my first “book”,
complete with illustrations, written in pencil on lined notebook paper, folded
and bound with a red ribbon. I believe I was six years old when I wrote it.
Urban fantasy, time
travel, science fiction, paranormal stories fill my kindle and my book shelves,
and that’s pretty much what I write. Remember Steven Spielberg’s series
“Amazing Stories”? Twisty, quirky little plots, involving someone ordinary,
like you or me, and how they deal with something that goes beyond are the kind
of things I love.
I had the first scene
of Not Long Ago written for at least a year before I went any further
with it. It could have gone in a thousand different directions, but the romantic
in me knew I had to explore the connection between the man and the woman who
saw each other by accident through the coffee shop window. I was lucky enough
to submit my work to an editor and an agent who took the time to encourage me
to continue writing. They told me my strong points and what I needed to develop
further. After I got over feeling rejected, I took what they said to heart and
learned. I entered and won short story contests and continued reading, writing,
learning, editing. I never gave up.
I get attached to my
supporting characters, sometimes more so than my main characters. In Not Long
Ago, Arvo, the tailor’s gangly, red-headed son is a charmer with an eye for the
ladies, who loves to listen to gossip. He keeps Erin, a young woman who time
travels from modern times to a medieval society, informed of castle goings-on.
He knows she’s masquerading as a boy but keeps her secret. He even helps her
sneak into the Masked Ball so she could dance with the handsome knight, Sir
Griffin. In the end, Arvo turns out to be a fast friend Erin can never forget.
When I write, these
things are almost always present: a cup
of coffee or Earl Grey in the winter, Pepsi or iced tea with lime in the
summer. I’ve been known to snack at the computer, but it has to be finger foods
so it doesn’t slow down my typing.
Music: Something that sets the mood I’m writing. I like to listen to
acoustic guitar (my son’s recordings) Enya, movie soundtracks like Cold
Mountain, The Village, Outlander, Braveheart. I like Moby, Coldplay, Loreena
McKinnett, Crowded House and the list goes on…
I’m a plotter/pantser.
I have a general idea of where I want to story to go. It comes to me in scenes.
It works better for me to write, write, write, and get my ideas down, then go
back and whip them into shape.
My biggest supporters
in my effort to be published have been my family. They listen to my ideas, help
me get past my blocks, listen to me whine, or listen to me period!! (I do get
carried away sometimes) And I can’t forget my writer friends who brainstorm
with me when I’m stuck.
The most important
thing I’ve learned about this experience is never ever give up. Someone once
told me “There is nothing about your story that can’t be fixed. You are the
author, after all. You can fill the plot holes, flesh it out, expand, or
condense, learn to say things better and improve. My least favorite thing about
the process is the waiting. I’m an impatient person.
I’ve just finished a
fantasy romance, In My Own Shadow and have begun submitting. At the moment I’m
writing the sequel to Not Long Ago. (My daughter insisted the story wasn’t done
and I agreed, so I had to continue.)
Not Long Ago
Blurb:
Erin has met the man of her dreams, but as usual there are complications. It’s one of those long distance relationships, and Griffin is a little behind the times-- somewhere around 600 years.
Erin and her employer, March, are transported to a time where chivalry and religion exist alongside brutality and superstition. Something’s not quite right at the castle, and Erin and March feel sure mysterious Lady Isobeil is involved. But Erin must cope with crop circles, ghosts, a kidnapping and death before the truth of her journey is revealed.
Forced to pose as March’s nephew, Erin finds employment as handsome Sir Griffin’s squire. She’s immediately attracted to him and grows to admire his courage, quiet nobility and devotion to duty. Yet, she must deny her feelings. Her world is centuries away, and she wants to go home. But, Erin can’t stop thinking about her knight in shining armor.
Not Long Ago is available through MuseItUp, Amazon and B&N
Blurb:
Erin has met the man of her dreams, but as usual there are complications. It’s one of those long distance relationships, and Griffin is a little behind the times-- somewhere around 600 years.
Erin and her employer, March, are transported to a time where chivalry and religion exist alongside brutality and superstition. Something’s not quite right at the castle, and Erin and March feel sure mysterious Lady Isobeil is involved. But Erin must cope with crop circles, ghosts, a kidnapping and death before the truth of her journey is revealed.
Forced to pose as March’s nephew, Erin finds employment as handsome Sir Griffin’s squire. She’s immediately attracted to him and grows to admire his courage, quiet nobility and devotion to duty. Yet, she must deny her feelings. Her world is centuries away, and she wants to go home. But, Erin can’t stop thinking about her knight in shining armor.
Not Long Ago is available through MuseItUp, Amazon and B&N
Excerpt:
I saw him the other day. It happened when I cut across Market
Street and passed in front of the fancy new coffee shop. On the other side of
spotless glass, waitresses in crisp black uniforms served expensive coffee in
fancy cups and saucers. One man sat alone at a table by the window. No one I
knew, just a nice looking stranger who looked up as I passed. We exchanged
glances and I froze in the middle of a busy sidewalk crowded with impatient
people. Annoyed, they parted, sweeping past me like water rushing downstream.
What I saw left me reeling, as though someone had knocked the wind out of me. My glimpse deep inside the man’s essence unnerved me, but I couldn’t look away. Who was he? The waitress stopped at his table. He turned, lowering his cup into its saucer and shook his head, his mouth curving into a familiar smile that made my heart lurch.
After she left, his eyes returned to mine. A moment before, I thought they’d held a spark of recognition. Now, I saw nothing. I felt cold, as though he’d slammed a door in my face and left me standing outside in the rain.
I had no other choice but to move on.
It wasn’t just recognition—I knew things about him too. Things I had no reason to know. An image flashed in my mind: the curl of hair at the nape of his neck; a scar snaking down his arm. I’d put it there, after all.
I knew the man before me was an excellent horseman, accomplished swordsman, and an honorable man. Beyond the shadow of a doubt. How could I be so certain?
There was something else. A chilling realization crept up my spine. He didn’t belong in my world. Not in the coffee shop, not in the city. Not anywhere. None of this should have happened. We should have been no more than casual observers sharing a moment before going our separate ways. But something went wrong.
What I saw left me reeling, as though someone had knocked the wind out of me. My glimpse deep inside the man’s essence unnerved me, but I couldn’t look away. Who was he? The waitress stopped at his table. He turned, lowering his cup into its saucer and shook his head, his mouth curving into a familiar smile that made my heart lurch.
After she left, his eyes returned to mine. A moment before, I thought they’d held a spark of recognition. Now, I saw nothing. I felt cold, as though he’d slammed a door in my face and left me standing outside in the rain.
I had no other choice but to move on.
It wasn’t just recognition—I knew things about him too. Things I had no reason to know. An image flashed in my mind: the curl of hair at the nape of his neck; a scar snaking down his arm. I’d put it there, after all.
I knew the man before me was an excellent horseman, accomplished swordsman, and an honorable man. Beyond the shadow of a doubt. How could I be so certain?
There was something else. A chilling realization crept up my spine. He didn’t belong in my world. Not in the coffee shop, not in the city. Not anywhere. None of this should have happened. We should have been no more than casual observers sharing a moment before going our separate ways. But something went wrong.
~*~
