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Tie Dye of the Day

Music

I’ve always found it amazing how much the music I listen to effects the mood of the story I’m writing and my character’s personalities. It’s really difficult to describe how the music makes you feel. Putting it into words is nearly impossible, but the music always seemed to be the lynch pin that pushes my creativity forward and brings me to all different emotional heights, heights that force me to run as fast as I can to find my notebook and get to work immediately. So, I thought I’d share just a few musical pieces that helped me to shape my novel, The God Machine.

First off, I’d like to explain the way I use music in my novels. The songs I use are my characters. Every time that character’s song plays, I brain goes to that character and I, in a sense, become that character. My mind will reset, and all my thoughts will go to that character, how they feel, who they are, how that song describes them perfectly. The song will put me in a mindset that helps me to see how that one person will react to certain situations. In my mind, it keeps their personalities separate because no one wants to read a book where every character is a cookie cutter of the last. That would be no fun.

So, what songs did I pick to represent my characters? Sometimes the song picks the character. For me, it happens when I’m walking along listening to my IPod. All the sudden it hits me. I gasp, and then I realize… This song is Salamander! Holy Crap!

I’ll start off with Salamander’s song. It’s “The Voice” by The Moody Blues. I also was quite fond of Steppin’ in a Slide Zone. Those two songs came to me when I was trying to write the Gauntlet of Fire scene. The great thing about fantasy writing is that you get to make things up completely, world build, but that is also the bad thing about it. I had no clue what the Gauntlet of Fire looked like until that song, The Voice, sneaked its way onto my IPod. When that song played I went from knowing absolutely nothing to absolutely everything about the Gauntlet in a matter of hours. When I heard the music, I saw Salamander get up off the ground and he was running. I could see his wand broken in half and each piece was in his hand. Like Spider Man, he flew into the air and attached himself to this terrible machine, and he had to climb up it by sinking the pointy ends of his wand into it and pulling himself up. Then I realized the machine was alive and evil and it bled acid blood, but Salamander was determined to get inside and defeat the monster. This song is so full of determination, and heart. It speaks of the future and the past and love and finding your dreams. This song is such a beautiful masterpiece, and it’s all Salamander.

Zolton’s song had been a favorite of mine when I was a teen and I hadn’t listened to it for over ten years when I found it again. It is called “The Everlasting Gaze” by The Smashing Pumpkins. It was also where I came up with the title The God Machine. This song spoke to me because when I listened to it, I heard a tale of lost love, and of a man who wanted his love to know that he was still here, still waiting for a chance to get her back, “forever waiting on the ways of your desire.” He still had his duty, yet he was still in love.

Ferret has two songs, but I say that’s okay. The first one is “The Changeling” by the Doors. You’ll know why if you read the book. The second one is “Like a Stone” by Audio Slave. Before I had to slash and burn song lyrics from my book for copyright reasons, this is one song out of many that Ferret would sing to Amanda to get her to remember him(for the sake of not giving the plot away I’m just going to say that Amanda has amnesia). There was a beautiful scene where Ferret and Amanda were on the beach and he’d been trying to get her to forget about Zolton for a century and he finally wooed her by singing this song to her. “In your house I long to be, room by room patiently. I’ll wait for you there like a stone. I’ll wait for you there alone.” Sadly, I didn’t want to get sued so I had to cut it, but that song does very well to describe Ferret’s heartache, and desperation of chasing after this woman who doesn’t remember the lifetime of love they shared, and she is now in love with another man.

Merlin’s song is really more prominent in the next book because the next book is going to be all about Merlin. His song is “Snow (Hey Oh)” by the Red Hot Chili Peppers. This just happens to be one of the most beautiful songs I’ve ever heard, and It’s difficult to explain exactly how this became Merlin’s song. Well, here goes, I heard lyrics that were not the real lyrics to the song and it gave me the book idea. I can’t go into too much detail because it’s a storyline I’ve never seen done before, but for the sake of the song, Merlin is referred to as “The Perfect Wonder” and his love interest is the “Soul White as Snow.” The real lyrics are “SO white as snow,” but the damage is done.

Bernie’s song is “Once Upon a Time in your Wildest Dreams” by the Moody Blues, but only the intro.

As you can see, I am back from the dead! Yea! After two and a half months of migraines and last week with the Austrailian Norovirus, you can bet that I’m soooo ready to get back to my writing. Actually, today is the first time I’ve actually felt GOOD since the beginning of November. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking while I’ve been incapacitated, and I’ve decided that I would like to put The God Machine on my blog for free for all my WordPress friends. I noticed that my book is exactly 28 chapters long and tomorrow is the first day of February, so starting tomorrow, I will be presenting 28 days of The God Machine! I’ve been enjoying The Redemption of Erath by my blog friend Satis for a long time, and think he might be onto something. Also I don’t really care if I make money on my books. I just want to entertain people, so be prepared!!!! Here comes the entertainment!!! Tomorrow I will be putting up chapter 1 of The God Machine!

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It’s just me…

As I expected, November and December were bad migraine months. In the two month span, I think I might have had one week total without any pain at all, and those days were spread out.
I had been editing and eventually published my novel, The God Machine, in between migraine attacks. I have a new rule. Keep your hand away from the red publish button whilst in the middle of a month of Migraines! Thank God I didn’t sell much, cause it needed more work.
The way I’m doing it is probably not the best, but I’ve been editing a section of my book a day and republishing the better edits.
Also, I really need to rework my blurb for The God Machine. I knew for months it needed to be done because the current one looked more YA appealing than romance, but I think I have it now.
It’s really quite miraculous how these things happen. Yesterday morning, after a long night of tryptophan induced dreams, I popped up, and the first thing that popped into my head was a great first line for my TGM blurb….and then I wrote the rest of the blurb in five minutes. That brings letting things percolate to a whole new level. I hate migraines, but I love being a writer!
So I will re-re-edit The God Machine, Re-re-edit The Fall and hope to have it out by the end of January, Finish my alien series, etc….

There is no end!!!!!


I Finished The God Machine and Lived To Tell About It!

Happy Black Friday, Bloggers. At the end of September I told you I would do nothing else until my novel, The God Machine, was completed. I am happy to report that all 180,000 words have been safely published on Smashwords and the Amazon Kindle store. Yea, Me!
I must say it has been a harrowing month for me. I almost quit my job twice. I had a very painful bout with some unruly ovarian cysts (both sides), several migraines, and a cold that I am still dealing with. I also rescued a poor sick hamster named Shaggy Don King. So, needless to say, I had a lot of hurtles to jump over.
Let me tell you a little bit about my process for this book. I know I’ve said this before, but I am going to say it again with bunches of exclamation points behind it. The very first thing I did was write out every page in a notebook!!!! The closer I got to the end of editing The God Machine, the more I realized how much the notebook actually helped me.
Reason number 1 to use notebooks: You can scribble, you can draw pictures. You can draw a line and write something completely off the wall to see if it works or not. You can write your notes right there in front of you. You can free write, and you don’t have to commit to any of it. Which leads to…
Reason number 2 to use notebooks: So, the notebook draft was my first draft. The type out draft is the second draft. This is where the work comes in. Yes, you do have to type the whole thing out again, but this helps you easily hop over a psychological hurdle you may not realize is there.
First, you are seeing the book with a fresh pair of eyes. That helps. Depending on how often you type out, it may have been weeks or months since you’ve seen the front have of your MS. You can go along freely and self edit, not by deleting words but by simply leaving them out. Here is the kicker. If you write your book out completely on your computer a weird thing happens. You become attached to those words. It becomes agony to erase such large paragraphs, and words that you’ve spent countless months slaving over. I’ve likened it to cutting off arms, but if you have those words tucked safely away in notebooks, they are not truly gone. Instead of deleting and sending your words out into oblivion, you simply omitted them. If you decide you need them later, they are still safely inside your notebook.
So my point here is…deleting parts of your manuscript hurts you psychologically. Omitting parts of your manuscript makes it a little less agonizing to do what you need to do. If you leave those extra things out that weren’t needed anyway, by the time you get the thing typed out it’s like they were never there.
Reason number 3 to write your manuscript out in notebooks, and this is a new one: When you reread your manuscript for the first time after typing it out…HOLY CRAP, IT’S VIRTUALLY PERFECT! Yes, I know, I know it’s hard to believe, but think about this. You did most, if not all, of the heavy lifting in the type out draft. There is virtually no cutting and pasting involved in the type out draft. You do the cutting and pasting in your head. If you want something from five (written) pages later where you’re typing it in now, you just go ahead and put that section in the right spot and make a notation in the paper copy. If you start getting redundant in your sentences, you can type one of the sentences out and leave the other one in your notebook. If you get adjective happy, you just leave them out. You forget tag lines, add them in. You forgot to say something in the notebook draft, come up with an awesome line, add that sucker in. It’s also a good time to fill in holes. I am famous for things that look like this (Add fight scene here…it’s a blood bath.) It’s been a while since I thought about this scene. A fresh pair of eyes and a fresh perspective and boom! It’s in there. And then you continue typing.
Yes, I do admit there were I scant few things I needed to move around. I did have to fix a bunch of typo’s, and had to make sure someone’s eyes stayed blue throughout the whole novel, but it read like a book. It felt like a book, and I got through the final editing process so much faster.
In other Bflyzone news, I didn’t get to do NaNoWriMo this year. In fact, I didn’t get to do it last year either because the entire month of November is a breeding ground for migraines. Plus, I was still working on The God Machine. I am planning on doing my own migraine free version of NaNoWriMo in June or July when the headaches are less likely to strike. I call it NaNoJulyMo. Any of you migraine people are welcome to join me. I know the name is wonky, but NaJulyWriMo just sounds weird.
I would like to do is give a huge thanks to MS Fowl. MS is the cover artist for The God Machine. She was an absolute blast to work with, and I absolutely love the cover. Actually, I think I might make my book cover my avatar. So, if any of you would like to have a high quality ebook cover at an affordable price, you should consider Melchelle Designs at melchelledesigns.com. Melchelle Designes also has their very own blog page here on wordpress. Check them out!

Finally, and I am very proud to do this, I would like to invite all of you to check out my new novel, The God Machine by Teri Harvey. http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00A8JVI9U or https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/255629. It is a very cool paranormal romance novel featuring wizards, time travel, inter-dimensional beings,  doppelgangers, and dragons. I had such a good time writing it. I hope you have a great time reading it.

Have a great Thanksgiving!


The God Machine Part One

Well, my friends, I’ve been talking about this story for months, and now I am ready to give you all a taste. Here are the first ten pages of The God Machine. Hope you like. Feel free to edit me or comment. I enjoy all types of constructive criticism. Here is a description of my novel copied and pasted straight from my query letter followed by the first ten pages.

Salamander, a budding wizard’s apprentice on par to become the most powerful apprentice of them all, has made a few horrifying revelations about his life. First, he is undeniably in love with his master and mentor The Black Wizard Zolton. Second, and most terrifying, Salamander may not even be a he at all. Salamander must hide his femininity at all cost or risk being destroyed by the League of Wizards, or even worse, rejected by Zolton who has secretly come to love his young apprentice. After being outed by his worst enemy, Ox, Salamander is ostracized by the League of Wizards. With her best friend and fellow apprentice Ferret by her side, Salamander, now Amanda, is forced into hiding, and her beloved Zolton is bound by the League of Wizards to rid the world of the creature of his own creation even if it shatters Zolton’s heart in the process.

“The God Machine”

Part one

His heart turned over when he spotted her across the ballroom through the crowd of enthusiastic party goers. It was New Years Eve in New York, one more year spent away from her, but here she was, soft and delicate like a newly cut daisy, a daisy that would never die. She had been avoiding him for years, but tonight she foolishly let her guard down. Tonight he had finally caught up to her. Tonight she would be his again.
She looked stunning as the blue lights hit her, then the red, then the green. Her chestnut hair caught the light in the old ways he remembered admiring when she was by his side, when they made the impossible possible with explosions of color and light and fire, but that was such a long time ago, centuries maybe. He’d lost count, but it had been much too long. He needed her now and this time she would not escape him. They belonged together and tonight they would be one.

#

She could feel his presence drawing near. She could always feel him when he was nearby. In the past she could feel him and run away before he was able to find her, but tonight, she supposed, the alcohol that had drowned her system slowed her response. Now he was close, perhaps even in this very ballroom. It was difficult to tell with all these people around, all these thoughts and emotions swirling above her head along with the bright lights, ridiculous hats, noise makers, and the alcohol. Perhaps she had just a touch too much.
She had to get out of this place. She had to escape before he found her. This hotel was built like labyrinth and she didn’t know if she could find her way out. All she had to do was find an exit, find a taxi and get to the airport. Florida was nice this time of year. No, she had to get out of the country, Sao Paulo? Tokyo? Paris? She couldn’t get far enough away from this place. No, this was impossible. There was no way to find a taxi now. She was in the middle of Time Square in New York on New Year’s Eve. She would have to run away on foot.
She felt a sudden flush of amorous energy caressing her body. She could always feel the way he loved her and his feelings rushing around her when he’d already spotted her and was moving in on her position, trying desperately to catch her before she could run. That is how she realized that she was already too late. She let her eyes case the party goers around the room. Too many faces. She could feel his vibrations getting stronger, but she couldn’t see his face. She couldn’t run. The room was spinning, and she was disoriented. She needed to find a wall, a chair, anything to hold onto. Where was he? She couldn’t run unless she knew which way or she might run right into his arms. He would love that.
She swallowed and lifted her fingers to her temples. Damn alcohol. “Zolton,” she called out to him with her mind. She knew he could hear her now. She knew he had the advantage. “Go away, Zolton. Please leave me alone.”

#

“No,” he echoed back to her, watching her face change as she realized how near he actually was. He watched her face change from happy and carefree to nervous, and now panicked. She knew he was close. He could read it on her face. “We belong together, my little Salamander.”
She gasped. He was so near that she could smell his skin. She braced herself as the room went dark around her. Everybody cheered. On a big screen a giant ball of light with the numbers 2010 began its yearly plunge.
10,9,8,7,6,5,4,3,2,1 Happy New Year!
Lights flashed, metallic confetti exploded from the ceiling along with balloons. Horns blew and people kissed around her. She had no one to kiss her, no one. Even with Zolton on her tail, the only family she’d ever known, in this moment she felt utterly alone.
She felt a pair of strong arms encircling her. Her world spun relentlessly until she was trapped within his embrace. He engulfed her until there was nowhere to look but into his Amethyst eyes. He looked different from when she last saw him. His usually longer black hair was cut and combed neatly in a modern style. His face was cleanly shaved revealing his smooth facial skin. His black tux fit his muscular frame perfectly, and as usual, he was several heads taller than everyone in the room.
His lips pressed against hers with a gentleness she couldn’t believe he was capable of, so soft she could not help but let him taste her Champaign sweetened mouth. She shivered against him and clasped the coat of his tux. She wanted, needed to pull away, but she couldn’t. He wouldn’t let her. His pull on her was far too great. All she could do was relax in his arms and wait for him to release her, but the confetti kept falling, the balloons kept falling, and he kept kissing her all the way through the second or third playing of Auld Lang Syne.
She took a deep breath and smiled a weak smile when he finally released her. There was no escaping now, and she knew it.
“Hello, Winn,” she whispered, but he could hear her over the crowd.
“Hello, Salamander.”
“Don’t call me that. My name is Amanda now.”
“You’ll always be my Salamander,” he said, his smile as handsome as she remembered it in the old days when they were in love. She stared up up him, her silver eyes shivering along with the rest of her frightened body. “Dance with me,” he said after the party resumed around them.
Amanda knew there was no escaping him so she allowed him to hold her close. His body was warm and oddly comforting as he led her to the dance floor. The love felt so familiar to her, so overwhelming that all she wanted in the world was to wrap herself up in it, but his love wasn’t real anymore. It was all a hoax to keep her feeling good so that she would come with him quietly without a fight. His mind was a weapon which she’d admired all her life, but she never thought in a million eons he would use it to hurt her. She wanted to believe he still loved her, but the real Winfred Ximon Zolton was dead, this man before her was but a husk, a demonic shell whose only desire was for her destruction.
He snapped his fingers and the music changed from a fast pop monstrosity, to an old classic waltz. The humans in the room didn’t seem to notice the change because it only occurred within Amanda’s ears.
“I see you still use magic for every little task,” Amanda said softly.
“I’m a wizard. Why shouldn’t I?” Zolton asked with a hint of arrogance in his voice.
“For everything?”
“Not everything.”
Zolton smiled and stared down into Amanda’s silvery eyes. Her face hadn’t changed all that much in all their years. He remembered that face, a face that would forever be burned in his mind. He could still remember the first time he laid eyes on her as if it were yesterday.

#

800 years ago the newly formed wizard Zolton was hiking through the hills surrounding his home in a place called Dark Mountain. Only a scant few months ago had he stood before the sacred flame, the source of all the power in the universe. It infused him with its galactic power and transformed him into an all powerful, an encompassing black wizard, the most powerful being on earth.
He was ruthless and arrogant as most young wizards are, lighting up the night with explosions of purple fire and magic powerful enough to scorch icecaps and melt mountains. He had yet to reach the age of 300, but he was talented, blessed with more power than any of the other older wizards or his fellow apprentices could ever have imagined. He was one step away from ruling the universe.
Zolton lived a life of solitude as did his fellow wizards, but this lifestyle was lacking in ways that, at times, were unbearable to him. Wandering the countryside for special herbs and substances by day, and casting volatile spells by night left him time for little else. His focus was superb, and his spells, flawless, but when he found a moment or two in a day where he could allow his focus to break, and allow his powers to rest, he found his onyx caves and his enormous spell tower perched prominently atop Dark Mountain cold.
He’s sought companionship amongst other wizards, but those arrogant haughty sods were solitary and militantly so. They didn’t seem to mind the loneliness their stations required. He’d not stay long, and there was always work to be done for which the other wizards couldn’t be bothered.
He’d sought companionship amongst the humans, but he quickly realized it was a mistake. The seven foot seven, dashingly handsome man of magic was a daunting figure to the tiny humans who never seemed to grow to far past five feet tall. Meeting these people was impossible now that he was quite literally larger than life. When they saw him coming, they ran away from him, a vast contrast from when he was a mere apprentice. When he was young and not so powerful, the women and the men flocked around him. Just above six feet tall, he was still taller than them, but he wasn’t a monster. He’d been an alluring figure able to charm anyone he pleased, especially the women, but it all changed once he’d received his wizardhood and grew into the most powerful being on earth. Human desires and other such foolishness are washed away when an apprentice is granted his powers. Those things are of the past have should have no effect on the wizard’s grand future of protecting the universe and serving God. Zolton’s humanly desires were vanquished when he was baptized by the sacred flame, but it seemed his humanly desires were stubborn, it seemed. All he could do was ignore them, and wizards were very good at that.
One day while wondering through the woods Zolton heard a strange noise, a mewling of some sort unlike any animal he’d ever heard. He walked among the trees listening for the little cries, and they became louder as he approached a large rock off the side off the side of a sheer cliff face. Behind this massive red rock, nestled in a tuft of grass he discovered the baby.
Zolton’s eyes narrowed at the sight of the infant. The baby smiled up at him kicking his feet and cooing at him, crying every now and again. The child was covered with care, hidden well from passersby if only it was quiet, alas it was not. He recoiled and backed away. This baby’s mother must be nearby. It was none of his concern and he would in no way involve himself in any woman’s problems. He turned away from the child and stocked in the opposite direction when he saw the body on top of a mound of rocks.
She was young, no more than 20 years old, and she lay broken near the bottom of the cliffs. Her chestnut hair streamed all around her and her skin had gone ashen in death. He moved closer to the body hoping this woman was merely sleeping, but the rocks that were her final resting place were much too jagged and her neck had been snapped. He scaled the rocks up to her body and peered up the cliff face he assumed she was trying to climb. Out of the hard rock face high above grew a singular crimson poppy. It sprung straight from the rock without any soil or even a crack to help it survive.
Zolton shook his head at the damned flower, and the foolish girl. He couldn’t just leave her there dead and mangled, could he? He turned away from the body and stared into the horizon. He had to leave this place before her people came looking for her. He couldn’t have the humans chasing after him with torches and pitchforks again. One time was enough for him to learn his lesson. He’d hardly taken a step when he thought better of himself. No, he couldn’t just leave her there.
Zolton gathered up her delicate corpse and carried her away from the cliffs that had taken her life. Her body was chilled, yet still pliable, still fresh. He lay her down on the grassy earth, straightening her body parts until she almost looked unbroken. She looked merely asleep, not dead. Zolton sat beside her on his knees and wondered about her. He admired her face memorizing every line, every curve from her no longer fluttering eyelashes to her rosebud lips or what he imagined had once been rosebud lips. Now, they were a cold shade of blue.
Zolton sat in silence pondering what he should do with her. Humans generally buried their dead didn’t they? This girl was much too beautiful to go into the ground though, but what else could he do?
Magic. He could fix her. He’d never done anything so far as resurrection, but he knew it was possible. Lazarus had been brought back to life by Jesus, but Jesus was more powerful than anyone could even fathom. Jesus wasn’t a wizard, but the son of God with which Zolton could not compete.
Zolton had studied the resurrection at length and he had learned a few things over the years. Being the black wizard of death, his role in the universe was clearly laid out for him. Killing was as simple as batting an eyelash and he’d killed many unsuspecting human souls who dared to trifle with the natural order of the universe, but life, giving life to someone who had lost it? That was something different. It was well known among the wizards that only God could give life, but Zolton wasn’t just any wizard. He was the most powerful wizard. Perhaps in this one instance, God would grant him favor. Perhaps this one human could be the companion he’d been praying for, a special being infused with life giving magic making her more than just a human.
Besides, if it didn’t work she’d simply be dead. But if he was able to bring her back? Perhaps when she awoke she would be grateful to him. His heart ached at the thought. Perhaps she might choose to stay with him. Perhaps she might grow to love him. Perhaps he might find a way for them to be together. He touched her cold cheek with one of his knuckles. Then he went to gather the necessary tools.
As he walked away he heard the cry from behind the large rock. He’d forgotten this small detail. The baby sniffled and wailed and reached its little arms in the air as Zolton peeked around the rocks and glimpsing the child. Zolton stayed back at first, but only until he realized there was no danger. The child quieted as soon as it saw Zolton. It had the same chestnut hair as the lovely dead girl and stunning silver eyes that pierced his very soul. He couldn’t leave the child either.
Zolton scoffed uncertain of what else to do. “What an ugly little boy.” He sighed and groaned and paced back and forth debating his debacle. “Well, I guess you’re going to have to come with me, aren’t you?”
Zolton’s long and muscular body bent over the boy and his strong arms lifted him to his chest. The boy couldn’t be more than a year old, probably less, but he cuddled close to Zolton and cried pitifully.
“I suppose you’re hungry,” Zolton groused.
Zolton removed his water pouch and set it on the ground. It wasn’t an amazing feat to turn water into wine. After it was done originally and had impressed everyone thoroughly, there were many imitators, including him, but now Zolton wondered if he could turn water into goat’s milk.
Zolton waved his hands around the pouch of water and concentrated. With a flick of his powerful wrist, the magic exploded around him. Zolton reached for the pouch and it was warm. He opened the cap and took a sip. The water had transformed into perfectly warmed milk. He casted a little spell that closed the top of his pouch and made it to where only a few drops could escape at a time and he gave it to the baby who drank greedily until his pale skin turned pink. Thoroughly satisfied, the baby went to sleep.
“Thank God,” Zolton said to himself. “All you have to do is feed them and they pass out.”
Zolton laid the child back behind the huge rock and returned to the girl. He sighed and watched as she lay sleeping. No live girl could be this lovely. It was time he brought her back. She had a child who needed her, perhaps a family. It wouldn’t do just to leave things as they stood.
He set next to her body and pulled from his black robes his magic talisman, a sword carved from the purest amethyst. Every wizard had a wand, but not every wizard had this. The powerful sword was light in his hands and he wielded it with precision. Its blade sliced through the air around him and over the girl until the amethyst in his eyes glowed. Magic exploded around him in a shower of purple sparks raining down over both of them. The sword was hot in his hands and with all the power he could wield he sunk it into the ground next to her body. Her body jumped with the jolt of power forcing its way through her, but she lay silent as the grass and red flowers grew high around her, but the girl remained dead.
“Damn it,” he cursed retracing all his steps trying to figure out what went wrong. The baby, who had crawled into view laughed heartily at the fumbling wizard.
Zolton’s face reddened. “What are you laughing at you naughty little spork?”
The child cooed and chewed on his fingers as the purple sparks poured over them again. As the grass and flowers around her grew too thick, Zolton took the girl’s arm and pulled her to another bare spot on the ground.
For three days Zolton cast his spells over the girl’s body. He used so many different powders, herbs and potions he could hardly remember them all. Between castings he took care of the baby, feeding him and soothing him to sleep, but Zolton didn’t sleep. He lay in the grass next to the girl trying desperately to think of the next spell to try, but at the end of the third day he grew weary, and had expended all his ideas.
“Why won’t you come back?” he yelled into the night. He’d tried everything. He’d healed all her broken bones, reattached every blood vessel and even made her cheeks rosy from artificial blood flow, but as the sun set on them, so did any hope of bringing her back.
Zolton’s eyes wandered back to the child who was sleeping soundly after Zolton’s last attempt to revive the girl. He pitied the little one who had lost his mother. He knew now that he could never bring her back.
Zolton closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It was time to bury her, but her face was too beautiful to cover in dirt. He brought her body to the lake’s edge and constructed a floating pyre on which she could rest. He propped the baby up against a rock so that the child’s eyes could see him as he built the mother’s final resting place. The baby’s little eyes were wide and focused once on the magic torches that lit the night blanketing him with many glorious shades of purple. His eyes then focused on the wizard who had placed the girl on the pyre along with many wooden logs that he stacked covering every inch of her body except her lovely face.
As Zolton opened his powerful hands his feet lifted off the ground. He flew back to the top of the cliff and plucked the single crimson poppy that had been the girl’s undoing. He plucked it right off the skin of the rock, no roots, no soil. Magic put that poppy there and tempted the girl to her death. One day, he would find the careless bastard who did this to her.
He had already given the girl to the lake when he flew down and placed the poppy upon her forehead. He gave her one last loving look and kissed her pale cheek.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered as the current carried her body into the center of the lake. He flew into the air high above the pyre. He raised his sword of amethyst to the heavens and the night sky lit up with purple lightning and ominous thunder. Then he lowered the sword, pointing it toward the pyre. He howled a scream of anguish as the fire erupted from his blade. A stream of amethyst flame raced through the air causing the pyre to explode, sinking the boat and its lone occupant to the depths. The beautiful, foolish girl was no more.
Zolton landed on the shore of the lake. He was exhausted. He yawned, rubbed his eyes and yearned for sleep. Then his remembered. The baby looked up at him with wide and curious eyes. Zolton glared at the baby with disdain.
“What are we going to do with you?” he asked. “Huh? Got any ideas?”
The baby cooed as Zolton lifted him. He held the baby away from him as a smell worse than any wizards brew erupted from the little one.
“Yick,” Zolton sneered. He dropped, but kept him floating in front of him. Zolton put his hands on his hips and pondered the solution to this vile odor. He lifted a finger to the child, calling upon his magic. “Be gone, foul stench from Hell.”
A bright purple light flew from Zolton’s extended finger and engulfed the giggling baby, and in an instant the baby was back in Zolton’s arms cleaner than the day God put him on this earth.
The next day, Zolton did something he thought he would never do again. He ventured into a human town. It was a village of shepherds in a place called Nob. It was the closest town to where he found the girl, and the most logical place to start. He carried the child with him at midday. In the town square he came upon a random smattering of people. He held the babe up to each of them and said. “Do you recognize this child?”
Every one of them shook their heads or shrugged their shoulders before running off in the other direction. Some of the braver towns’ folk were more polite and waited until Zolton turned away before they ran. Others turned and fled before he could even ask the question. Zolton ran his fingers through his black hair in frustration. The townsfolk were understandably wary of the handsome giant man of magic who was desperately searching for someone to take his baby. Zolton could imagine their fear, but it wasn’t helping him find a home for this foundling child.
After three days and three nights and three different villages, Zolton grew weary of his search, and weary of the unfounded fear the humans had of him. He couldn’t get anyone of them to even look at the baby. They were all looking at him and running away.
Zolton had no other choice in the end. He took the baby to the orphanage, but as he entered the dark building and watched as skinny little boys slaved around the building waxing and cleaning the fat owner’s house, Zolton decided it was time for a change.
Zolton lifted the child to face him and stared into his big silvery eyes. The baby grinned and gripped Zolton’s thumb. Zolton stared for a long time and made his decision. The other wizards were content to live alone because they had something that Zolton did not, and he could see how it would make all the difference.
“You know,” he said proudly. “Behind every great wizard there is a great apprentice. I am in need of an apprentice, so I think you should come with me to Dark Mountain. Don’t think this life is going to be easy, though. There is much to learn and much work to be done. I shall make you my pupil, and I shall train you in the art of magic. I can show you things no human could ever dream of. Doesn’t that sound nice?”
The baby cooed and drooled, but his eyes were sharp on his new master’s. There seemed to be an understanding between them that didn’t need words and Zolton could see the acceptance in the baby’s eyes as the imprinted on each other.
“Well, now that that’s settled, I shall have to find something to call you. Every little boy must have a name, and I’ve been pondering one for just this occasion. Your name shall be Thane. It means follower. As my apprentice you shall follow me for the rest of my life, so it seems appropriate. But you need a last name as well.”
Zolton reached into his robes and retrieved a handkerchief he’d found on the dead girl’s body. Inside hand embroidered in red thread appeared the name, Shelby. He expected the name might have been her name or perhaps her last name, such a lovely name.
“Thane Shelby,” Zolton said with pride. “I’ll show you the secrets of the universe, Thane Shelby.”

#

“Come home with me,” Zolton whispered holding her tighter now as the colored lights flashed around them. She could no longer fight him. He’d drained the energy from her body until she was limp in his arms. All she could do was cling to him as the ballroom whirled around them. “Amanda, please.”
“That place is a prison,” she managed resting her head on his chest.
“It’s your home, Amanda. It’s our home. We have so many memories there. Please, come home with me.”
“No,” she breathed. Her arms pushed against him, but her thrust was lighter than a passing breeze. “No.”
Amanda remembered her home at Dark Mountain, what it was like. Just like its name, it was a dark place where she had always felt dark and isolated. She was trapped by the flowing dark emotions of the place, and she had to hide her own dark feelings. In Dark Mountain she was always hiding, but it wasn’t always that way. She’s been happy there as well.
“Fine,” Zolton breathed. “If that’s the way it had to be, that’s fine.” Zolton lifted his fingers to her cheek and letting his fingertips graze at line up to her temple. Amanda’s lashes fluttered as her eyelids became heavier.
“Please, don’t,” she begged.
“Shhh,” he said dropping his fingertips to her lips. “Sleep, my love. When you awaken everything will be right again.”
#

“Salamander, what are you doing?” the large gray tabby cat asked stepping stiff legged into the boy’s conservative quarters.
The boy, who was now aged to sixteen, but in reality was actually more around 160 years old, gasped and covered his naked body with the sheet he’d been holding open in front of a long mirror. Once he was covered he dove into his meager cot on the cold floor.
“Go away, Georgina,” Salamander rasped.
“You’re supposed to be asleep,” the cat said. “What were you doing?”
“Nothing,” Salamander demanded. “I was just looking.”
“Looking?” the cat asked, yellow eyes probing as her cold nose touched the back of his neck.
“Yes, looking,” Salamander said defensively. “It’s my body. Don’t I have the right?”
“Of course, dear. Good night?”
There was a loud crash and then an explosion coming from the bowels of the mountain, and purple smoke filled the room.
“What was that?” Sal asked setting up.
“Zolton is hard at work again,” the cat answered absently licking her paw. “Doing God only knows what.”
“Why didn’t he wake me? I could help,” Salamander said in a panic.
“There are some tricks little boys shouldn’t know,” Georgina said rubbing her forehead against Sal’s forearm. Sal groaned and fell back against his pillows.
“Zolton never lets me see the good stuff.”
“Good night, Salamander.”
“Good night, Georgina.”
Sal sat up after the cat left the room again. With a flick of his wrists the wall sconces blazed until he could see the black stone outline of his room. With a turn of his finger his full body mirror returned. He gazed at himself wrapped in that sheet, his thin shoulders and nonexistent waist, the fine blonde hairs all over his body so tiny you could hardly tell they were there at all. He liked the way he looked, but he knew he was different from the other boys he’d seen in town. They were brutes. They had muscle and deep black hairs all over their bodies, and even some patches of hair on their faces.
Salamander inspected his face, softer than the petals of a freshly sprung daisy. As was his chest, he thought as he opened up the sheet and looked down. Boys’ chests didn’t look like this. They were wide and muscular. His was silky with very little muscle. His was small and his pecks were round like small oranges. They seemed to have grown over night. Last time he checked, his chest was flat.
He bit his bottom lip and closed the sheet over him. He was bothered by all of this, bothered by his soft little voice, bothered by his hairless body, bothered that he was missing certain parts of his anatomy, and bothered that he loved the way his tan sheet looked draped over his body. He stood and turned in place letting the sheet flow over the air like a ball gown. Then he sat down again.
He sprung back up when he heard another explosion. Wind burst through the caves of Dark Mountain and he heard Zolton cackle. Then there was a relentless banging sound. Then it all stopped abruptly with a thud.
Salamander gasped, “He’s hurt,” he shuffled out of bed an ran toward grand tower number one where Zolton liked to cast his most important spells, the one that Sal had spent most of the day scrubbing. Sal ducked behind a medium sized rock to protect himself from any remaining magic that might still be running amok in the tower. When Salamander peeked over, Zolton was there just fine with his back was turned away from Sal as he casted his spell.
It was hotter than murder in the tower tonight as Zolton flew through the air around a giant caldron, amethyst lava glowing and spattering all around him. Sweat rolled off of Zolton’s brow as he landed, his black robes were plastered to his body, and his black hair plastered to his forehead just the same.
Zolton rose off the ground again. Salamander watched in wonder as Zolton threw something volatile into the brew causing an explosion that forced Sal to duck out of the way to avoid the shock wave of purple fire. When Sal peeked back over the rocks, Zolton’s feet were once again safely on the ground and he was laughing, his robes covered in purple and black slop. He pulled off the hopelessly soiled robes until all that was left was naked skin.
Salamander ducked behind the rock a second time and pressed a shaking hand over his mouth. Sal’s white skin flushed and flushed again as his heart slammed so hard against his chest he thought he might not survive. Sal closed his eyes and tried to take deep breaths. He’d never seen his master that way, nor any other man for that matter. Sal’s hands shook as he lifted himself for a better look.
Zolton ran his fingers through his black hair and stood before the caldron waiting. For what? Sal could not guess, but he had a perfect view of Zolton’s olive skin glistening in the purple light. His muscles were large and sculpted like those of a Greek god. Zolton was a god, at least in Salamander’s eyes. He was everything a man should be with muscles and hair. He also had a bit of a beard going tonight. He was so rough and raggedly handsome. Sal wanted to touch that beard before it went away, to see what it felt like, to see what Salamander himself was lacking. God, Zolton was strong. Salamander knew he was strong, but he’d never seen the physical evidence of it. Zolton was magnificent, Sal thought as an overwhelming pang curled up in his stomach. He doubled over, but kept an eye on his master.
Zolton was amazing, Sal thought. The pang in Sal’s stomach unraveled and stung him until he could feel it everywhere in his body, and in places he knew he shouldn’t. Sal closed his eyes and breathed in slowly. Zolton was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen in his life.
Salamander gasped and fell backwards as Zolton’s eyes turned his direction. Sal had always appreciated Zolton, idolized him, and was always grateful for the shelter and home he created for them, but Salamander had never felt anything like this for his master. He was suddenly frightened by the strange and feelings he’d overwhelm him, so he ran faster than he’d ever ran before back to his little cot. He dove under all of his blankets and pillows until he disappeared.
“Wrong! Wrong! Wrong! You stupid idiot!” he screamed. “Wrong!”

#

Zolton could feel the presence as he worked feverishly in this blasted heat, but he could not stop at this point. He’d spend weeks on this spell, weeks gathering the correct herbs and potions. He was determined that none of his work went to waste. This spell was much too important. Besides, it was probably just Salamander. It wouldn’t hurt for the boy to watch. Sal had spent many nights watching Zolton as he casted his most precarious spells, nights when the boy should have been sleeping, but Zolton always knew when he was there. Sal had always been a curious soul, but as long as it didn’t affect Zolton’s important work, and as long as it didn’t affect Salamander’s chores, Zolton saw no harm in him watching.
Zolton smiled to himself. The boy was just like Zolton when he was an apprentice. He and Merlin would stay up all hours of the night watching as their wizard Ximon would do something as important as bending space and time, to zapping a hangnail or levitation exercises. It didn’t seem to matter what Ximon was doing, or what Zolton was doing. Zolton and Salamander alike just wanted to be a part of it.
It was probably time for the boy to participate in the more important spells that Zolton usually scheduled to take place while the boy slept. He felt Salamander was mature enough to handle the more dangerous and difficult things that come along with the profession of wizardry. Besides, Salamander had been poofing flowers and zinging butterflies for much too long.
It was deadly hot in this tower. Sweat rolled off Zolton in buckets and he promised himself a rain shower before the night was over. When Zolton whipped off his robes the sound of a heartbeat thundered in his ears louder than the explosive magic in the room. It was a frantic sound that excited Zolton’s ears and made him raise his eyebrows. He’d never known the boy to be so shy, but then Zolton realized that it was not shyness that made Sal’s blood boil, nor appreciation, nor the thrill of the magic all around him. No, this was different. This was something sweet and innocent, like the blooming of a delicate flower or the flutter of butterfly wings, the twinge that erupts all over when your heart realizes it is in love.
“That isn’t…healthy,” Zolton thought as the boy’s anger surged, and fear, and confusion. Zolton’s gaze turned as the boy ran away.
Zolton shook his head in amazement. What a thing it is to be in love. He’d never had the luxury, but he felt a certain pride and flattery at being the object of such feelings, even though those feelings were completely inappropriate, and he would have to put a stop to them immediately.

#

Amanda’s eyes opened slowly. The room seemed to spin as she regained consciousness, but then it stopped. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she recognized where she was, the feeling of the cot beneath her, the cold rock floor it sat on, the dim torchlight and the cold black walls. She was home, this was her room. God, how she missed this place, and the magic within it. She missed her wand and helping Zolton with spells that were crucial to human existence. She missed Zolton back when he was her master, back when she trusted him, and he trusted her with all the secrets of the universe. She closed her eyes and pulled the blanket tighter around her and wondered if life would ever be that way again. She closed her eyes tighter when she felt a presence draw near.


Nothing Left to do But Edit

The typing phase is done. The pages of my notebooks have run empty. I’ve been typing feverishly for the past month trying to get that second draft (typing draft) of my wip into my computer, and now it has come to pass. The God Machine has been digitized!
I noticed how light my back pack was this morning. Yes, I had my computer in it, but it just felt wrong. Those two think notebooks that I would drag around with me everywhere I went, they were gone. Full of life and beauty, full of blue pen and red pen and folded down pages, chapter notes, wizard’s names, apprentice names, magic… now they are just piles of dead tree. How quickly the magic goes away from one medium and is transferred to another. A new phase begins today…Real, hard, destructive editing. This should be fun.


2 to Edit…

Tie Dye of the Day

Good morning fellow bloggers! It has been a tremendous two weeks and I finally have a moment to breathe…so I decided to continue to work instead. Such is the life of the writer. You’ve got your home life, your personal life, and you have to cram your writing in all the little cracks of time that may or may not form in between.
So why have I not been breathing? Well, when I’m not flying on dragons with the wizards, or flying through space with my aliens, I work in the most awesome health food store. Two weeks ago I was surprised with the news that Open Circle Natural Foods would be moving. We’ve been in the same location forever so you could imagine my shock. Ive been cleaning and moving sections while my boss and her husband have been taking shelves and painting them so they will be nice for the new store. I’ve been working at a hundred miles per hour for the last week and finally, about ten minutes ago, I realized that I could stop. There was no more bulk to package, no more cleaning to do, no orders to put away, nothing. Yes, I realize there is always something to do at a grocery store, but I got finished with all the stuff that simply had to be done, so I’ve earned myself a break.
Now I get to brag… I have finally completed The Sorcerer’s Apprentice!!!! Yea!!! For all of you who are following my progress, I usually follow the title with this (probably going to change the title) . I have come up with a new title for my wizard romance novel. Officially, the new title for The Sorcerer’s Apprentice is The God Machine, so I will be calling it that from now on.
My other book, The Fall, has been in editing for a while now. I expect that book will be ready for publishing at the beginning of September. I’m at the point in the editing process where I’m reading it out loud really really slow and very monotone so that I can catch all the mistakes I can. I also changed the font. I need to make it as different looking as possible so my eyes won’t gloss over something I’m used to seeing. I don’t have an editor, nor do I have the money to hire one, so I’ve got to use every trick in the book. I don’t recommend flying solo without an editor, so If you can get one if at all possible, get one. There is a very high probability you will miss typos if you do it on your own. That’s the risk I take every day. Some readers don’t mind at all and tell me how wonderful I am, others get really snippy about grammar. It’s just something you learn to deal with. Anyway, I am anticipating one or two more pass throughs of this novel before it is published, more like one. I’m excited to put this one to bed, finally.
The God Machine is currently in the type out draft. I like to write the first draft completely in notebooks. The type out draft is like the second draft. I am loving this novel, and I can honestly say I’ve never seen anything like it. I am definitely going to try again with agents on this one. Somebody’s going to love it!
Last night I was so exhausted after work that I felt like I was literally going to pass out. I hadn’t edited or typed anything in days, so I whipped out my wizards and started typing anyway. I also put on a Star Trek Voyager dvd and thought I’d try typing and watching tv at the same time. It didn’t work exactly.

Here’s a humorous interlude into my brain…
typing typing typing, “What did Zolton say?…” “What did Tuvoc say?…”Could a wizard use a phase inverter?” “Isn’t that a wand?” “They sure did frack up Jatrell’s nose…”
Like I said, It wasn’t a very productive night, so I went to bed at 8:45 and was just happy to be alive.
Here’s an update on To Love a Beast if you’re interested. I sold my 50th ebook on Tuesday! Yea! I am a little bit frazzled by Amazon though. They ask what price I would like to sell my book, and I said 3.99. Okay, that’s fine and dandy. Then they sell it on Amazon for .99 cents. That’s got me scratching my head… So it’s .99 cents everyone! Come get your copy!
I also got my first fan mail this weekend. The nice lady from California said that my book was better than 50 Shades! I haven’t gotten a chance to read that book, but it’s hot right now and I am very humbled and delighted she thought so.
Time to get back to my manuscripts. Have a great week everyone.


Construction to Destruction

Going from the creative writing part of being a writer (construction) to the editing part (destruction) is hard!
I just finished writing The Sorcerer’s Apprentice (working title) and I am now ready to start chopping that sucker up and making it readable. I also have another finished novel that I should have been editing, but instead I indulged my muse and finished The Sorcerer’s Apprentice letting The Fall fall by the wayside.
My predicament is I’m still feeling creative and am just itching to keep going with more fun writing. The only problem with that is I have two books here waiting to be edited and if I don’t get them finished they won’t ever be seen and I won’t make any money to support myself, my cat, and my muse…
Yikes! I don’t want to shut down the creative center, but on the other hand I do like to eat every now and then.
Time to put on the big girl pants and start editing and revising. I’ll write a little bit to keep the nasty monster away, but that other work must be done, too. A good balance of work and play makes the Teri a happy writer.

I am also thinking about putting my whole wizard book up on its own blog, a chapter or two a week. I heard from some sources that it is a good idea, but some that it’s not. I know a few of my followers have done this in the past and i was wondering if any of you wanted to give me any pointers or opinions about this. Any opinions will be appreciated.
Have a great weekend everyone.


Pulling Teeth!

Tie Dye of The Day…yes, I know it’s upside down.

I recently saw my dentist this past week, and if you’ve been keeping up, you know I’ve been seeing a lot of him lately. Finally getting to the end of my root canal/crown situation.
I’d mentioned to my dentist that I was an author and to my surprise, he was writing a book, too! Thus, he is my inspiration for this post.
He had a common problem amongst fellow writers. He’d written the beginning of his book, and the ending, but he was stuck because he wasn’t sure what things should go in the middle.
I started thinking about my own writing experiences, especially those of the last book I wrote. The Sorcerer’s Apprentice (working title) seemed like a never ending roller coaster for me. There were times when it felt like I was watching a movie inside my brain and writing it down as fast as I could. Other times were like , well, pulling teeth! ( I figured my dentist would like that).
In the middle of the book, my wizard apprentices are invited to participate in the UWA Apprentice Showdown. Basically at the end of this month long “Wizard Olympics” the young apprentice boys would graduate and receive their powers or “Wizardhood.” Only, I had one problem…what in the world are the wizards apprentices supposed to do at wizard apprentice olympics? At the end of the UWA showdown, 5 of the highest scoring apprentices would enter a final event called “The Gauntlet of Fire” where the final 5 apprentices compete to become champion of the games and thus the first to become wizards. Damn it, I had no idea what that was going to be either. HOLY CRAP!
I have completed this novel, thank God. It only took me two and a half years, but the Wizard Olympics and the Gauntlet of Fire took up over a year of that writing time. I had no idea from day to day where I was going with this part of the story, and that’s where the pulling teeth part comes in. That whole year I spent writing that part of the book went like this…
I would write a sentence. Then I would sit there for five minutes thinking about the next one. I would write the next sentence, sit five minutes, write a paragraph, sit five minutes, tear out the sheet of paper and toss it away.
Basically it took a lot of teeth pullin’ before I got more steam to push on to the end of the book.
That part of the book was right around 150 pages too, so that’s a lot of stop/starts, and many hours of sit around and do nothing but think about apprentice events and other magical things that happen. I never realized how difficult it was to write magical things because…they’re freakin’ magical!
No one ever said writing was easy, and my ultimate advice to anyone who is having trouble coming up with story is… It’s okay to pull teeth.
There are two ways to handle writing difficult scenes, especially those where you have no idea where to go from where you are. Neither one are wrong. I always recommend do what works best for you. I did a little of both during this time.
First, you can let your idea percolate. You don’t have to write anything during this time. For me, I will just sit there and think and think and then think some more. Eventually, the answer will come. Also during that time I watched a lot of movies, read a lot of books, wrote other stories, and when that magical day came, and the answer to my constant thoughts was finally answered, I ran to my notebook and was off to the races!
The second thing you can do is keep pulling those teeth and keep writing. I recommend this one as well because for me, there are many many things that do not occur to me until I am actually engrossed in a scene and writing it. When you’re writing, things can go in completely opposite directions of what you intend. Those are magical moments as well. That’s when your characters start writing themselves and you’re just along for the ride. Literary surprises are just as fun for the author as they are for the reader and the reader can see the excitement in your words.
They can also see when you chucka chucka chucka one sentence at a time, but sometimes when you read it all at once and let those unruly sentences stand with other unruly sentences, another magical thing happens. It flows! It doesn’t happen for everybody every time, but when it does…that year and a half you spent pulling teeth becomes worth it!
Happy writing!
Once again, it’s time for me to start editing!


And 40 Years Later…

Here’s my tie dye of the day!

And here’s my post…

Passage of time is a strange little monster. I think it’s something that a lot of people do differently and there is not real right or wrong way to do it (as with all writing, I guess). P of T is an elephant I’ve been struggling with for the past couple of days. I have sought help from all corners of the internet and i still don’t have a really great answer, so I just made my own and hope it’s el correcto.
Here is a little background to my story… Two wizard’s apprentices are marked for death by the league of wizards known as the UWA. The apprentices are being attacked on a daily basis by the black wizard of death who has been taxed with their execution. The first P of T occurs over a time span of hundreds of years. Not much happens in that period of time except our heroes wander through the wilderness. Basically I started the scene a hundred years later and peppered in mentions of events and lines like “We did that a hundred years ago.” That one was easy.
Second P of T takes place when our heroes go into hiding for an undisclosed amount of time. They have a great life living on their own private island that they created with people they created and a town they created. This P of T was a little different in that I wanted to show that they had a good time, but I didn’t really want to go into it too deeply. What I ended up doing was writing about 2 pages worth of narrative with what I like to call blips of action where there will be several paragraphs of narrative and then a brief blob of action just so the readers know my characters are still there and participating in the story. I don’t know how well this will stand, but I’m hoping one or two of my blog friends may have some advice.
The last P of T instance, and the one giving me the most trouble, is right at the end of the book . Our heroes think they have destroyed the black wizard live in peace again for a short time. The apprentices even get married, but then it turns out the black wizard is not dead. He is just waiting for a moment of weakness to strike them. Basically its 40 years of battles and peace and more battles and more peace.
There weren’t supposed to be scenes within the 40 years. I was basically just gonna tell ya what happened. That didn’t work out because my characters are still writing themselves. I know telling is looked down upon in the writing world, but in some places, like P of T, it is very helpful.
I didn’t want to tell the whole thing because there were a lot of things I just couldn’t get by with telling. My two main characters are stuck in the human realm for 40 years this time, and they cannot use their powers because that would lead the black wizard straight to them. They live like humans for those 40 years but are always on the run. They are in the United States during this time and they live throughout the 70’s 80’s 90’s and 2000’s. Basically in this 40 year P of T, I would write a little bit of narrative, and then put my characters in an action scene. I would do the same thing for every decade. This was not the easiest thing in the world to do, but I owed it to my characters not to write the happiest parts of their lives away.
Anyway, writing passage of time is hard. I would appreciate any wisdom from my blogging friends.
Now I basically have a few small scenes before I can say “the end,” and that’s basically how I plan to spend the rest of my day. After I’m done here, I’m going to take a nice month long vacation on writing and do some intensive reading. Bloggers, do you have any book recommendations for me? Have fun!


Bountiful Weekend with the Wizards.

Bloggers, my life has taken a very exciting turn this weekend and I am proud to share it with you. First of all, I got rejected again. I would like to send out a personal thank you to Vicki Motter for reading my heartfelt query letter and then smashing back down into my place! Oh well, that’s what agents are supposed to do right? We send, they reject? I did not let this bother me because 1, I have had so many rejection letters over the last few years that I have become desensitized, and 2, I am about to finish writing my wizard book!
Another cool thing that happened to me was I got a Twitter account. Yes, ladies and gents, I am officially a Twit. I have to give a quick thank you to Angela Q for hooking me on this wonderful techno-drug. I really have no idea what I am doing with the twitter account. Right now I am just aimlessly following authors I love, and agents, and Nascar drivers, and tweeting very random things because let’s face it, random is my thing.
As for my wizards… after sitting on my tushie doing absolutely nothing this past week, (I was supposed to be editing The Fall but just could not wake up the destroyer in me) I decided to do what my brain had been begging me to do. I could hear the spirits calling me, so I put down the computer and picked up my wizard notebook and tore through 60 pages in four days. Now that feels good!
Since I brought it up, I better tell you what my Wizard story is about. Actually, it is a very complicated tale, one of the most twisty turny books I’ve ever tried to write, and every time I pick up my notebook, the story gets more and more complected.
The Sorcerer’s Apprentice (title is probably going to be changes due to many other things called the same) is a paranormal romance novel about a young apprentice named Salamander who has fallen in love with his wizard master, Zolton.
(NO, IT’S NOT WHAT YOU THINK, though still pretty awkward).
Things become complicated when the young Salamander discovers that he is a she, and the only way to continue her wizards training and to stay with her beloved Zolton is to restrain her femininity and continue to be the good little boy everyone thought she was. To help her with her ruse, Salamander’s best friend Ferret, also an apprentice, casts spells on her to inhibit her growing womanhood and to make her seem more male…and that’s just the beginning. From here it gets insane.

Why I am shocked I wrote this book…
First of all, wizards? I admit that this book has been a long time coming simply because I was terrified to write it. A little background about myself, I am from the bible belt, and I am Christian through and through. My parents are the same. I was a teenager when Harry Potter came out and was firmly ensconced in the uproar of Christian folks against those books. I sat back and nodded while it was all happening. “Yeah, sure, evil, Satan, BOOGIE BOOGIE BOOGIE!” I remember sneaking episodes of Sabrina the Teenaged Witch, and all that jazz, shaking my head at myself all that time. I did not actually get to read Harry Potter until I was an adult. I didn’t hate it, but I’d lump it in with Twilight in that I didn’t really see what the fuss was about, so take that for what it’s worth.
Another thing, I’m used to writing Regency romance novels, so I had no idea where this wizard thing came from. Actually, I’ve always hated Regencies where the girl dressed up like a boy and fell in love with whatever aristocrat she was serving. I guess the only saving grace for me was that Salamander did not know what she was until it was too late, and being a wizard’s apprentice was all she knew, and she was desperate to keep her wizard family intact.
Another cool thing about these wizards is they are all Christians. I don’t get too bogged down in religion, but I do get just enough in there to keep the people with the pitchforks off my back. Technically, the wizards are lower forms of angels, but I don’t get that specific.
The last reason I decided to write this book is because I couldn’t not write it. Aric and Sheree have been pushing me to write this thing for the last two years and I appreciate every little push Aric has given me (he himself is a red wizard) But I had not idea in the beginning what I had. I just started writing and one thing would build upon another upon another and so on and so forth. I’m almost certain that the same thing happened to JK. Once you start something good and cool you just can’t stop. I wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t have an Aric floating around her head. I feel like my hand is being guided and it is a magical thing.
So I wrote 60 amazingly awesome pages in the last 4 days and I am going to continue on, hopefully. Being at work does complicate things a little, but I am so sure that I am going to finish this thing by the end of the week. My hands are shaking and I am ready to go.
I hope you all have a wonderful independence day. I know I will. Thanks for reading.