Changing a MS -- Crimson Moon

I've gotten a few comments/emails about the revised edition of Crimson Moon and how I'm changing the manuscript. Let me start by saying this: The story will remain the same. However, the book does have issues and I want to strengthen the material if at all possible. How? It's a combination of cutting, revising, and re-writing. If you're curious, I've included two snippets below. You can see what I'm up to and what you can expect.

**I've intentionally chosen the scene I based this story from. I had a vision in my head while driving one day and came home and started writing.**

Old Version:

“Get behind me.”

Caleb’s voice was the most welcome thing my ears had ever heard. I did as instructed, slowly stepping backward. I didn’t break eye contact with the two creatures snarling and snapping, too horrified to look away.

Caleb’s large silhouette appeared in the corner of my left eye. He came around, closing the distance and providing a barrier from the two werewolves ready to shred me apart if presented the opportunity. They snarled louder, growls becoming vicious and angry, matching their non-human lupine faces.

One launched forward, throwing a punch which Caleb deflected harmlessly. The other attempted to deliver a blow as well, aiming for the midsection. Caleb maneuvered effortlessly out of the way, keeping his body in place, continuing to separate them from me. They persisted, making small passes, waiting for an opportunity to strike.

They chose to move together, the one on the left striking out while the one to the right tackled Caleb into the sand. They began to hit him violently, fists flying.

I glanced around in panic, searching for anything I could use. The ladder caught my attention.

If I could be fast enough, and pull a piece free, I could use it as a weapon.

I started forward, unsure of what to do but unable to bear standing by to watch the carnage.

A firm hand gripped my shoulder, startling me.

“Don’t do that darlin’,” Billy whispered. “A man’s got to have his pride.”

I watched helplessly as Caleb attempted to deflect the blows that rained down on his shoulders and back. I averted my head and closed my eyes, fighting back sickness.

I didn’t want to see Caleb’s blood staining the walls and sand.

Energy surged through the pit, brushing painfully across my skin, nearly knocking me over. I gasped and stumbled, remaining on my feet by Billy’s hand locked onto my shoulder. A deep growl rent the air and the force in the room intensified and shifted. The hair on my arms stood on end as the crowd above erupted into absolute chaos.

I opened my eyes and glanced up.

The rail was completely full now, bodies surging against the railing to watch. Men and women stared down, snarling and cheering, their words mangled and distorted.

The blonde girl who knocked me over was still there. Her eyes—like all the others—glowed strangely and shifted color. Her lips quavered as she chanted along with everyone else.

I glanced back down, searching for the source of the growl.

Caleb was no longer on the ground. His body contorted under his black t-shirt, the muscles in his arms expanding as his body grew and doubled in size. I gasped at the incomprehensible thing I was witnessing and Billy patted my shoulder in understanding.

“It’s all right. He’s a big boy, and they done pissed him off.”

Caleb punched the one on his right, sending him reeling through the air, his body making solid contact with the bloodied wall. A nasty crunch vibrated in my ears and he crumpled unmoving to the sand.

Caleb moved swiftly, rushing the other werewolf and grasping him by the throat. He forced him back, pushing his body against the blood stained wall.

The sound in the room increased, voices mingling together. People yelled out frantically, tones garbled and thick.

The werewolf kicked feebly as he used his arms, attempting to deliver blows to get free. Caleb deflected each with his free hand, until the movements became sluggish and uncoordinated, before coming to a stop all together.

Caleb stepped back, releasing his hold and opening his fingers. The man crumbled to the ground, legs dropping from underneath as he slumped. The crowd erupted in cheers as the energy eased from of the pit.

I sighed in relief. My skin wasn’t tingling painfully under the jacket any longer.

“See, no harm done,” Billy offered comfortingly, removing his steadying hand.

I watched Caleb’s back. His arms slowly receded, muscles returning to normal. His frame shifted and his bones cracked into place. I envisioned him closing his eyes, taking deep and measured breaths as he fought that struggle within. He lifted his arms, raking hands through his thick hair. He turned around, brushing the sand free from his shirt and keeping his eyes downcast as he approached.

He was embarrassed. For some reason, having me witness this upset him.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

Emotion strained my voice and I smiled at him, crossing the space between us. He lifted his chin, gazing at me, shimmering ice blue staring back. It was different than the indigo I’d grown used to, but lovely nonetheless.

He waited until I was inches away and he reached for me, lightly touching my arm.

His voice was thick and hoarse. “We should make this look legitimate.”

He didn’t give me the opportunity to consider his words as he bent down, wrapping his arm around my waist and lifting me against his chest. His head bent as his mouth found my own.

If I thought Caleb smelled delicious, he tasted even better. His lips were full and soft as they brushed against mine, and my reserve melted away.

I lifted my arms around his shoulders, hands entwining in silken hair. I lost myself in the strange and irresistible pull that existed between us. I had only kissed one other person in my life, and the experience didn’t even compare.

Everything but Caleb fell away in that moment.

It was just him and I, our bodies impossibly close together.

“That a girl.” Billy’s voice barely registered in my ears. “I’d say he earned it.”

New Version:

“Get behind me.”

Caleb’s voice was the most welcome thing I had ever heard. I did as instructed, slowly stepping backward. I didn’t break eye contact with the two creatures snarling at me, too horrified to look away. Caleb’s large silhouette appeared in the corner of my eye. He came around, providing a barrier from the two werewolves ready to shred me to pieces if given an opportunity. They snarled louder, growls becoming vicious, matching their lupine faces.

One threw a punch which Caleb deflected harmlessly. The other attempted to deliver a blow as well, aiming for Caleb’s midsection. Caleb stepped effortlessly out of the way but kept his body in place, separating them from me. They persisted, making small passes, waiting for an opportunity to strike. The one on the left lashed out and the one to the right tackled Caleb to the sand. They started to hit him brutally, fists flying.

I glanced around in panic, searching for anything I could use. The ladder caught my attention. If I could pull a piece free, I could use it as a weapon. I started forward, unsure of what to do but unable to stand by and watch the carnage.

A firm hand gripped my shoulder, startling me.

“Don’t do that darlin’,” Billy said softly. “A man’s got to have his pride.”

I watched helplessly as Caleb attempted to deflect the blows that rained down on his shoulders and back. I averted my head and closed my eyes, fighting back sickness.

I didn’t want to see Caleb’s blood staining the walls and sand.

Energy surged through the pit, brushing painfully across my skin, nearly knocking me over. I gasped and stumbled, remaining on my feet with Billy’s help. A deep growl rent the air. The pandemonium in the room intensified and shifted. The hair on my arms stood on end as the crowd erupted in absolute chaos.

I opened my eyes and glanced up.

The rail was completely full now, people surging against the railing. Men and women stared down, snarling and cheering, their words distorted. The blonde girl who’d knocked me over was still there. Her eyes—like all the others—glowed strangely and shifted color. Her lips quivered as she chanted along with everyone else. I lowered my gaze and searched for the source of the growl that drowned out the noises in the room.

Oh my God.

Caleb. The noise was coming from Caleb.

And he was no longer on the ground.

His body contorted under his black T-shirt, the muscles in his arms bulging as his body doubled in size. I gasped at the incomprehensible thing I was witnessing and Billy patted my shoulder.

“It’s all right. He’s a big boy, and they done pissed him off.”

Caleb punched the one on his right in the chest, sending the man reeling through the air. His body made solid contact with the bloodied wall. A nasty snap vibrated in my ears and he crumbled unmoving to the sand.

Caleb moved swiftly, rushing the other werewolf and grasping him by the throat. He forced the man back, pushing his body against the blood stained wall. The sound in the room increased, voices mingling together. People yelled out, eager for blood. The werewolf kicked feebly as he used his arms, attempting to deliver blows to get free. Caleb deflected each with his free hand, until the man’s movements became sluggish. Before long the werewolf’s arms fell to his sides and he slumped.

Caleb stepped back, releasing his hold. The man sank to the ground, legs folding as he hit the sand. The crowd erupted in cheers, and the strange energy I felt eased from of the pit. I sighed in relief, my skin no longer tingling under the jacket.

“See, no harm done,” Billy said and let me go.

I watched Caleb’s back. The muscles in his arms slowly receded and returned to normal. His frame shifted and his bones cracked into place. I envisioned him closing his eyes, taking deep and measured breaths as he fought for control. He lifted his arms and raked his hands through his hair. When he turned around, he brushed sand from his shirt and walked toward me and Billy, keeping his eyes lowered.

He’s embarrassed.

For some reason having me witness this upset him.

“Thank you,” I whispered, emotion straining my voice.

Caleb lifted his head and gazed at me with shimmering ice blue eyes. The color was different than the indigo I’d grown used to, but lovely nonetheless. He waited until I was inches away before he reached out and touched my arm.

“We should make this look legitimate.”

He didn’t give me the opportunity to consider his words as he bent down, wrapping his arm around my waist and lifting me against his chest. His head bent and his mouth descended.

If I thought Caleb smelled delicious, he tasted even better. His lips were full and soft as they pressed against mine, and my reserve melted away. I looped my arms around his neck, my hands gliding into his silken hair. I lost myself in the strange and irresistible pull that existed between us. I had only kissed one other person in my life, and the experience didn’t even compare.

Everything but Caleb fell away in that moment.

It was just the two of us, our bodies impossibly close together.

“That a girl.” Billy’s voice barely registered, seeming far away. “I’d say he earned it.”

***

I hope you enjoy the new version. I'm busting my arse to get the manuscript in order. Please forgive any typos you might find. This is version zero. After I wrap this up the book will be off to my CPs and Betas and then I'll give the MS another go.

The Renfield Syndrome, Almost Here

It's hard to believe that The Renfield Syndrome will be releasing in a little over a month. So many of you have wanted to get your hands on the book, and I hope the wait is worth it. I was fortunate enough to have Carolyn Crane (author of the fantastic Dissillusionists Trilogy) give The Renfield Syndrome a read and write a author blurb for the book (thank you, Carolyn) so things are finally winding down. Not too much longer now...

I'm currently doing a read through before my editor gives the manuscript one more go. It's impossible to describe how terrifying it is to share it with all of you. The Renfield Syndrome takes the series in an entirely different direction. It was a situation that made writing it all the worse. Ultimately, I stuck to my guns. What will happen as a result? I'm not sure. The hope is you'll be interested enough in what transpires to pick up The Ripple Effect which will release (I'm currently writing the novel) in 2012. And, guess what? The first chapter of The Ripple Effect will be included in the book, so you'll get an idea of where things are headed. Sound good? I hope so!

I had no idea what I was getting myself into when I started writing this series. In the beginning it was all fun and excitement. Now it's nerves, dread, and anxiety. I will promise you this -- regardless of what happens I will keep writing. It's not as easy as it once was, but it is something I enjoy. Thanks for giving me a reason to keep pounding away at the keyboard. Dead, Undead, or Somewhere in Between continues doing well, so I hope The Renfield Syndrome will widen the readership and will encourage new book addicts to give it a try.

With that, I'm off. I've got to get this final proofing done. For those who are curious I am attending Authors After Dark in Philly in August. If you're attending I'll have new copies of Dead,Undead, or Somewhere in Between for sale (at a substantial discount) as well as book plates to sign for The Renfield Syndrome in the event you plan to purchase a copy and want one.

Thanks again for your awesomeness!

Practice = Improvement

Today I received a review for one of my stories. It was a fair review, although the reader didn't like my work, because the reviewer noted something that is (without a doubt) true.

My writing wasn't polished.

When I started writing (yes, I've said this before) it was entirely for me. I didn't want a publishing contract. I didn't want anyone else to read what I wrote. I had four young children, and I needed an escape from life. Writing gave me that. When I wrote my first book, I had no idea what I was doing. But it didn't matter. The book was my way to escape, to create my own heroine, hero, and characters. I loved the hell out of writing. I could do whatever I wanted to, in whatever fashion I pleased. To this day, I have nothing but fond memories of Crimson Moon and of the journey I took when creating it, because it inspired me to keep writing, to create more stories, and to learn as I went.

I talk to a lot of aspiring authors and the one thing I can tell you is that in most circumstances, your first book should never be published. That isn't to say Crimson Moon is a turd of a story, but rather, it is what it is -- the only thing I'd ever written. I didn't know about pacing, about unnecessary details, about improper word choice. I only knew that I wrote things as I saw them in my head. After all, those little details didn't matter. The book was for me. So when my mother-in-law read the book (books at that point) and pushed me to seek publication, I hesitated. Then, when she pointed out I had nothing to lose, I figured why not.

In retrospect, I should have kept a few things for myself versus trying my hand at being an author. I've learned a hell of a lot in three years, and you'll see those changes in my writing style in Crimson Sunrise. It's the same characters, but the voice is different. It's what happens when you practice, learn, and (hopefully) improve. The same can be said of The Renfield Syndrome. The first thing my crit partners and beta readers told me was it was a better story because the writing was stronger.

That is a good thing.

However, all good comes with bad, and the bad is that I had to learn. All authors do. I spoke with Madelyn Ford today about the craft and the way we evolve as we go. For example -- grammar. I know many people harp on this (and it is important) but for most of us, even those who have college degrees, we took literature classes, not those which focused on the grammatical aspects of writing. Truth be told, I didn't learn about the various rules of grammar, the house styles at publishers, or how important it is to have a book without unneeded dialogue tags, simultaneous actions, etc, until I was published.  I'll be the first to tell ya that I had no idea that blonde was for a woman and blond was for a man. I'd always assumed it was simply "blond." I also didn't know about passive voice, show versus tell, and other important things a solid editor will teach you. Believe me when I say there is a LOT to learn. You just need the proper guidance.

So why am I writing this blog? I suppose it's a way to tell those who want to be published that it's okay not to publish your first book. I've heard it said numerous times that an author is still trying to get their first book published because they love it and they know it's good. The thing is, your book probably is good and something people will enjoy. However, just as some might love it, others may not for the reasons listed above. Remember that it's okay to move to another project and try again. If and when you receive a contract, you'll learn, and you'll become a better author for it.

All of my editors are different. Some are strict about keeping character sheets with references of names and places. Others adhere to guidelines about dialogue tags, present participle phrases, and passive voice. Each one has their own way of doing things, but I'm grateful to each one, because the information they've shared is invaluable. It makes it easier for me to convey what I want to without being wordy, too informative, or slowing the progress of the book. It also means it's changed my voice, the way I create things, and the way I approach my books. In my opinion, my editors continue making me a better, stronger author. That is why I place so much importance on them, and why I trust them with my work when I sign a contract. Yes, they make mistakes. We all do. However, chances are they'll teach you something you didn't know and allow you to reference it in the next manuscript you pen.

I can tell you that I'm one of those authors who love to read, therefore I always root for new authors. In fact, a majority of my reading list is complied of new authors at the presses I'm with, or those I meet networking. Most probably won't tell you when they get a lukewarm review and point out that the reviewer is probably right, but I will. Why? Because none of us start out perfect. Hell, I don't want to be. Perfection means there is no room to improve, and I always want to be better.

I hope you are all enjoying your holiday weekend. Things are a bit chaotic here, with summer coming and Lori Foster's this week. I can't wait to visit those who are coming to the Reader and Author Gathering. Chatting with all of you is the icing on the cake for someone like me. As much as I love writing and my characters, they can't beat actual people. So I hope I see you there.

Bed Rest

Writing Status - Edits

Mood - Blah

Playing on ipod - Nada

It's official -- I'm on bed rest today.  Yesterday was my first "day" of returning to life as usual and I blew it by doing too much.   When the hubs found out I wasn't feeling so hot last night, he was none too happy.

I'm visiting Taste of Kiwi, sharing a writer's tip.  Click HERE to go on over and say hello.  I suppose I'll be in my bed in the meantime, working on edits and reading.  My eye was getting better but the nasty crud along the top came off, so it burns really badly.  That means long stretches of staring at just about anything hurts.  At least the shingles are in the healing phase now and will gone soon.

Hope all of you have a fantastic weekend, without mother nature interrupting with storms and chaos.  We're under tornado warnings here in 'Bama, which is nothing new.  The south seems to be a breeding ground for Twisters and unstable weather. 

Return to Work and Contest

Writing Status - Working on TRS and CS
Mood - Tired
Playing on itunes - Nothing Just Yet

Yesterday I finally returned to "writing". Well, if you can call it that. I reopened The Renfield Syndrome and started reading/editing it from the start. I want to reacquaint myself with the story and make sure everything is on track before I dive back in. Oddly enough, I found tons of things to "change" and it's as if I'm reading with virgin eyes, which is good.

I also entered a contest over at Jennifer Haymore's Blog in an attempt to "try to land an agent". You submit the Title, Genre, and the first five sentences of your story. If you're chosen, they'll request the first chapter of your story for consideration with the Irene Goodman Literary Agency.

I decided to submit the first five from my urban fantasy, The Company of Wolves. What do you think? Does it have a shot?

Sickness has a scent. The stale tang doesn’t burn the nasal cavity, nor does it sour as it hits the back of the throat. The perfume of impending death is musky, lingering heavy and oppressing in the air. It doesn’t have to be accompanied by formaldehyde or alcohol, the metallic rustiness of blood or the stench of decaying tissue, but I was able to distinguish all four scents — as well as something else.

For a moment, I considered feigning sleep, concentrating not on the unexpected earthy scent I knew all too well but rather on the strong and intrusive aroma of bleach, sterile fluids, and unemptied bedpans overflowing with bodily waste; the world was less complex without the complication of pack.

Decisions, Decisions

Writing Status - Prepping to Start
Mood - Tired
Playing on itunes - Mysterious Ways by KMFDM

After much reflection, I have decided to work on Crimson Sunrise while diving into The Renfield Syndrome. I was on Amazon.com (where Dead has almost dipped below the 1,000 kindle bestsellers mark!) and noticed a thread regarding Dead and what is in store for the future. The poster was curious about the new story, what was to come, and when the next installment was going to be ready. For some reason, it kick started something and reminded me that while there are those who don't do the right thing, there are also those who have done nothing wrong and enjoyed by story (and deserve to know what happens next). So really, I'm obligated to get off my ass and get to work.

On a sad family note, our rabbit has went to that carrot nibbling place bunnies do in the sky. We got to tell our children this morning. Braced for tears, we were rather shocked when my macabre bunch requested to "see" the body. *cringe*

Thursday! Only one more day 'til the weekend.

Dreaming of Writing

Writing Status - Edits
Mood - Agitated
Playing on itunes - The Wretched by Nine Inch Nails

For the rest of the week, I'll be working hard on Eternity edits. So if you don't see me around, I'm in the cave, reconstructing and smoothing out things. I'm not exactly looking forward to it, but I've managed to convince myself that:

A. I am the writer here and...
B. The story will do as I want, even if it has to change.

Then there is the Crimson Sunrise news -- the first test read was a thumbs up. Now, we're waiting for the second reader's okay. If it's a go, there will be heavy edits (these I anticipated), and that means my writing will be forced to the backseat again.

I was complaining to my husband last night that I never have time to write anymore. Between edits, promo, etc, I just can't find the time. It's incredibly frustrating. I have so many ideas going through my head, and until I start clearing them away, it will only get worse. Right now, I have three stories stewing in the brain and eight WIP's. That's enough voices and envisioned "scenes" to drive anyone insane.

On a more happy note: Dead got an amazing 4/5 star review at Darkly Reading that you can read HERE. I'm so pleased by the tour and the amount of word-of-mouth my visit at Parajunkie's View generated. As I follow them on Twitter, I can see the "I want to Read" shout outs. Knowing someone wants to read your story enough to tweet the title of it to the world...crazy.

Is it just me?

Writing Status - Dead, Undead Final Edits
Mood - Anxious
Playing on ipod - Keep Breathing by Ingrid Michaelson

As I edit Dead, Undead, there is a rather sizable portion of me that wonders what I was thinking when I submitted the story. Once upon a time, I loved the work, the characters, the premise... Now? I can hardly stomach it.

Perhaps it's a folly all writers experience, a unavoidable detestation of their work. I experienced the same with Crimson Moon, as well as a majority of my other stories. I'm not sure if it's because I've read the material so much, or if it's because I've grown since I submitted that particular story and the writing seems stinted and awkward.

Either way, it doesn't really matter. I have a job to do, and I have to suck it up and meet my deadlines. Dead is due to release in less than three weeks, and I have to make it as neat and clean as possible.

Back to work...

Dead, Undead, or Somewhere in Between Update

Writing Status - Good
Mood - Relieved
Playing on stereo - Christmas Music

Some news about Dead, Undead or Somewhere in Between. The release date has been held back until February 7th, which is good news. The MS needed a bit of work and this will ensure the material is as shiny as possible.

Hope everyone is enjoying the Holiday! ;-)

The Edits Continue...

Writing Status - Second Round of Edits on Dead, Undead
Mood - Tired
Playing in ipod - Alabama Anthem by 63 Boyz

I took the above picture on Saturday. Since we live in the higher elevations, we get snow from time to time. Unfortunately, that also means during a freeze we get stuck on top of the mountain and can't travel.

As I work on Dead, Undead, or Somewhere in Between, I'm torn about what I'm going to write when all the edits are said and done. I've been putting serious writing off for months. I'm not sure why, but I think it's because I can't settle on one idea and see it to fruition. Hopefully I'll make up my mind soon and get to work.

I hope everyone has a fantastic Monday -- even though it's usually the worst day of the week.

I can sleep when I'm Dead

I remember writing Crimson Moon vividly. The story just kept getting larger, and larger, and larger... Before long, I knew it would have to be broken up in at least three separate installments. There was simply too much material and, at the time, I was incredibly wordy (I did try to scale that down in edits). When I finished Crimson Moon, it topped out at a insane 98k words, and as shocked as I was, I was somehow equally proud for writing this whopper of an epic.

Fast forward a few months.

Those three-hundred and forty-eight pages have been absolute hell to edit. I've read the story probably thirty times, and each one is a test in patience. For one thing, my writing has changed significantly. So when I go back and read through CM, I find what I consider to be monumental flaws. It's not easy, and I've struggled not to change the material too much to continue with the same voice and "feel", if you will. After all, the editor chose it "as-is", not some altered version of what I think it should be. I'm not sure if this is a result of my editors at Amira (who have taught me invaluable lessons on editing) or if it's because my writing has matured (CM was conceived as a YA), but I can't help but wince when I read the story and note all the 'sighs' and 'chuckles'. *cringe*

I finished the final galleys last night and sent them in. I'm very anxious, as my editor will be passing them along to the senior-editor and getting that all important release date. I've always tried to be neutral with what reviewers think of my work because it's so subjective, but this story is very special to me. You won't find oodles of smut, and I'll confess here and now to having portions of adverb repetition (I didn't know any better, honestly). I simply hope that others enjoy the journey of reading it as much as I did creating it.

Now, it's on to Crimson Sunrise. I know I said I'd partake in NaNo, and I still intend to. But I have to get on the move and start getting more work completed and submitted.

I can sleep when I'm dead.

Edits...

Writing Status - Are you kidding?
Mood - Already Tired
Playing on ipod -Here with Me by Dido

The rest of the week and the weekend following will be used up on edits. It's incredible. The line process has truly allowed me to see and correct mistakes I missed before, which I like. Learning more about production and the process has given me a greater appreciation of what editors suffer.

On a side note, I've just finished up the edits for A Kiss Before Dying. I'm doing a "final" read through and afterward it will be off in the mail to Amira. I can't believe it releases in just a week! It's surreal and exciting and terrifying.