Writing

RELEASE DAY: Incorruptible

Are you excited, dear Readers? Heaven and hell both know I am. Today is the day Incorruptible is free in the wild!

Falling was only the beginning…

Jenna Delacroix is determined to keep her life as simple as possible. Maybe if she tries hard enough to be normal the nightmares and strange occurrences plaguing her all her life will finally recede. But then the monsters arrive—and with them, the man who says he’s her protector.

Lonely and disciplined, Michael Gabon is just a grunt in the Legion’s endless war, but now he’s stumbled across something special—a living, breathing Incorruptible, the first one he’s seen in more decades than he can count. She’s also being hunted. And now, so is he.

On the run without backup, the diaboli haunting their trail, their only hope is working together. Even that might not be enough, because the unclean seem to know more than they should. Whether it’s treachery or bad luck doesn’t matter to Michael. The only thing he cares about is seeing his Incorruptible safe…

…no matter who–or what–he has to kill.

AVAILABLE DIRECT (.EPUB AND KINDLE VERSIONS), THROUGH KOBO, THROUGH AMAZON, OR THROUGH BARNES & NOBLE. PRINT EDITION AVAILABLE.
YOU CAN ALSO DOWNLOAD AND READ THE FIRST SIX CHAPTERS FOR FREE.

Isn’t it lovely? The cover is by the glorious Indigo Chick Designs; Skyla does such beautiful work.

It’s rather a sweet romance, though with plenty of gore–this is, after all, me. I can’t wait to hear what you think of it. And now I’m going to go soak my head in a bucket, because release-day nerves are shaking me like a rat in a terrier’s teeth.

Enjoy!

Soundtrack Monday: Out of My Mind

Selene

One of the things about Selene is that we never see inside Nikolai. We don’t see how similar to Selene he really was, as a paranormal1 trapped by Grigori. In his mind, he’s much better than Grigori ever could be, because he allows Selene a few choices.

You become what you despise, you become the mask you wear, so be careful of both.

Anyway, if Selene was ever a movie, Duran Duran’s Out of My Mind would be playing at the end–Nikolai waking alone, Selene embarking upon her immortality, free at last. I did plan on writing Selene’s adventures as a standalone, but piracy of the book put paid to that. I simply couldn’t afford to.

How could you dare to become so real, Not just a ghost to me? That’s Nikolai, baffled by how Selene manages to slip through all his defenses and strike at the only tender, mortal part he has left. I often wondered when Selene would realize he let her go, once Grigori was gone, because of the old adage about when you love someone.

I played this track over and over while writing the last chapter of Selene, and had to listen to it obsessively while writing Just Ask.2 If I do end up writing the Hell Wars with little Lia Spocarelli, we’ll get to glimpse this pair again.

In the meantime, enjoy the music.

Time It Right

I’ve only twenty minutes before I have to shove the icepack back into the freezer and hop in the shower. I don’t care if my plantar fascia hurts, I have to run. I have been going mad with the enforced rest, and tomorrow is a release day.

That’s right, tomorrow, Incorruptible is released to the world for your delectation at midnight tonight. Remember, you can download the first six chapters here for free.

I already have release day nerves, so I’ve been pushing myself pretty hard this morning. If I can get tired enough I might even be able to sleep tonight. I finished the zero of Damage late last week. It’s only around 46k, but there’s plenty of room for expansion if it gets sold as a category.

I’m trying to work out what comes next. Orphaned and out of contract is never a fun place to be as an author, especially in this economy. It’s one of those days I think I should pack it all in, become a plumber or something, and only write for home consumption, so to speak.

Don’t despair, dear Readers. The feeling is normal, I get it right before every release day. You’d think it would get easier to deal with, but each time it wears right through the carpet and cuts a groove in my mental floor.

In any case, I have Hell’s Acre, Memory Game, and HOOD‘s Season Two open in Scrivener. The last needs a stiff reread to get back into the groove, and if I push I might get a zero out in the next month. That would be nice; I’ll probably work on Memory Game next since I’m still in a suspense/thriller mood.

But in the meantime, I’m going to finish icing my heel and stagger for the shower. Getting back to work after finishing a zero is always an exercise in stubbornness, like hopping in to jump double-dutch. I never quite got the hang of that, but it didn’t stop me from trying. One day I’ll time it right.

Over and out.

Stubbornness and Experience

Just a short note today, since I am so close to the end of Damage I can almost taste a few days off. Usually I have a long doldrums in the center third to four-fifth of a book before lunging to the end; this particular story began gathering steam at the halfway point and is full speed, arm the torpedoes, pass the butter and devil take the hindmost, amen.

Which also means I’ve had the usual “this book is shit, I am shit, and everyone who depends on me will starve to death because of it” in fast-forward, compressed into a smaller length of time but not at all ameliorated. Instead of the usual endurance match it’s a battering on the ropes.

Fortunately, I’ve stubbornness and experience on my side. And icepacks for my damn heel; I’m going to have to get some dixie cups and ice my forearms after this as well. Taking care of one’s hands is de rigeur for a scribe, and my fingers are a little tired. Normally I break in the middle of the day, shifting between two projects; spending all my time focused with white-hot intensity on one is giving me aches I could do without.

I might be pushing so hard on this book because I can’t run for a short while–plantar fasciitis is a bitch–and I need something to keep my brain from eating itself. Yoga sadly doesn’t cut it.

So it’s ice, and ibuprofen, and swearing under my breath every time I have to get said icepack out. This draft is extremely lean; that’s all right, I think it’s more a category romance than anything and the leanness of the draft will give me plenty of room to add the necessary touches and still be under wordcount limit.

Of course, if the category publishers don’t get off their rear ends and move in a reasonable amount of time, it will no doubt grow to a different proportion and be brought out through my own inimitable services. Either way a reader wins. I’m getting less and less willing to wait for trad publishers to, in my grandfather’s pungent phrase, shit or get off the pot.

Also, it’s subscription day, and I should really get the monthly newsletter out. If I get the denouement done this morning, that will be a lazy afternoon’s work.

Meanwhile there’s coffee to suck down, ice to put under my heel until it stings and grows numb, the dogs to walk while I wince and step carefully. The rain has retreated for now; the sunshine is unpleasant but at least it’s not gasping-hot anymore. Summer’s spine has broken and autumn has ascended the throne.

It’s got to be enough.

Only Moderate Pain

The Society

It’s a dark morning, a nice thick cloud layer shielding us. The rain has brought greening at the bottom of summer-yellowed grass and the trees are lifting their arms again, turgor pressure rising. Miss B is philosophical–her coat is wash and wear, and she’s a fan of chilly temperatures.

Boxnoggin, however, is from the South, and this cold, damp bullshit is not at all to his liking. Plus, he’s got a lovely slick coat that doesn’t bulk up like B’s. Consequently, he goes out in the rain and his first act is to crane his head over his shoulder and look at me mournfully. Clearly I am a vengeful goddess who is making water fall from the sky for the express purpose of inconveniencing his four-legged self.

B’s just happy summer is over. She gets warm, even with the air trapped in her coat.

As for me, I am delighted with the rain. Already my productivity’s spiked; 4k on Damage yesterday alone. I’m in the space where I hate the book, I loathe it, nobody’s going to want to read it, and we’ll all starve to death because I’m a terrible writer.

So, just as usual, then. I wish I could escape that terrible feeling for at least one book, but it hasn’t happened yet after fifty-plus, so it’s probably just one of those things. Like death, taxes, and the stupidity of rich white men.

This morning requires some walking in the rain. I know exactly what happens next, but there’s two gory combat scenes I need to block out, and since the injury running is out of the question for a while. Fortunately I can still walk with only moderate pain, and I need to be moving.

Also fortunately, I can swing the sledgehammer. I sense a lot of that in my future.

Oh, hey–we’re also a week away from Incorruptible‘s launch! Remember, you can download the first six chapters for free; you can also preorder just about everywhere.

And now, the shilling of my wares done, I need to get a jacket on and get the dogs out the door for walkies. At least when it’s raining Boxnoggin keeps up a brisk pace, wanting to get back to shelter as soon as possible. I don’t blame him, especially since it’s good exercise.

But first, there’s coffee to be absorbed while I blink frowstily at yesterday’s work, trimming just a few words and getting back into the rhythm. It may be a terrible book, but it will not be a terrible unfinished book. One can work with a whole corpse, after all, much better than one can work with fragments.

Happy Tuesday, my dears.

Soundtrack Monday: Terra Firma

Steelflower in Snow

Years ago, the only time I had to myself was a walk after dinner when my ex-husband was home and napping in his chair. I could conceivably leave the kids safely with him, put on some headphones, and walk through dusk or night itself.

Of course, every time I came home there was a mess to punish me for leaving. I still haven’t decided if the ex was consciously pulling that bullshit or if he didn’t even realize he was being an ass. Either way, it was maddening.

Anyway, the walks were a refuge; while I was writing the original Steelflower, Delerium’s Terra Firma was what I imagined playing when Kaia arrived in Hain. If the series ever becomes a movie (unlikely, since the only white person for two whole books is Redfist, though maybe Kesamine counts) that’s what would be playing over the opening montage of several days while the principals get into position.

You can hear Kaia arriving on a ship, Redfist hiding from the guards and deciding to dice a bit in the foreigner’s quarter, and see Darik and Kaia just missing each other in the crowds, Kaia stopping every now and again to watch some street acrobats or pay a bit of tradewire for a snack. There’s even a space in the song where Darik realizes he’s lost the darauq’adai, and his desperation–not to mention his frustrated anger–mounts. Then, you can almost hear Kaia getting drunk and her hand flashing out as she picks Redfist’s pocket.

There are other songs that remind me of Kaia, but this one’s the clearest. Everything about it speaks of Kaia’s world, and more to the point, her grace and beauty. She wouldn’t think herself beautiful, but most of the time I do, and I’m sure Darik does.

It’s a shame he’s keeping such a large secret from her. Of course that won’t end well, it never does. But that’s a story that may not ever be written.

Enjoy the music, my friends.

Blank, Pointy-Tooth Screens

Cormorant Run

The weekend passed in a blur, between chores and getting wordcount in on Damage. The best thing about it was the rain moving in. It is now officially autumn, and I couldn’t be happier.

I always work best when the rains settle like an inverted grey bowl, tip-tapping the roof and window, hissing between leaves beginning to turn, plopping into puddles. Maybe it’s all the negative ions being thrown up, maybe it’s the ambient white noise, maybe it’s the petrichor, maybe it’s the cleaning of the air. Maybe it’s all of them.

I also watched Wes Craven’s Dracula 2000 and its two “sequels”, the latter only loosely related to the first movie but starring Jason Scott Lee. I don’t quite uncritically love them, I’m aware of how bad all three movies are. The first one played with some extremely interesting themes and the third had the right ending1 instead of an action-movie Gary Stu vomit-fest, so all in all, they’re not bad.

Vampires are a blank screen we use to project a number of anxieties onto. I know–I’m guilty as charged, between Selene2 and the scurf in the Kismet series.3 Both had their uses, and I might be ready to write Tarquin’s story. Or even Imprint, the Beguine vampire smexy-story I’ve been adding chunks to over literal years.

But first I’ve got to finish Damage and get the Season 2 zero of HOOD out of the way. Now that I’m in the productive half of the year, that might even happen in a hurry. And of course there’s running, running with dogs, walking with dogs, parenting, and making sure my meatsack doesn’t give out under the pressure.

It feels like juggling chainsaws, complete with the risk of lopping off a hand when one grabs the wrong way. Tiger by the tail, and all that.

I should also get the monthly newsletter out of the way. Incorruptible goes on sale later this month, too, so there’s housekeeping to do for that.

It’s a good thing the rainy season’s long in these parts. I’d probably never get anything finished otherwise. Time to finish absorbing my coffee and get with the program; it might be dangerous to stay in one place.

Over and out.