All right, so my new release A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S FLING is a not a paranormal (it's a straight-up romantic comedy) BUT the play from which it stealsborrows its title (Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream) is all about supernatural creatures. Namely: fairies.
I played a fairy once in A Midsummer Night's Dream; it was one of the great pleasures of my life. And one of my favorite parts of writing this book was deciding how I was going to have my fictional people portray Shakespeare's fairies. The wonderful website Pinterest was great for this, and I happened to have a pretty great costume designer character in my book so I could let my imagination go wild.
And I did. :)
Here's how the fairy looks are described in the book:
All four of the actresses playing Titania's handmaidens now had soft, pastel colored hair of various shades -- a soft lilac for Cobweb; an icy, silvery blue for Moth; a peachy orange for Mustardseed; and a soft blend of pale green, blue and violet for Peaseblossom. Elaborate headdresses of flowers and feathers, twigs and seashells crowned their heads.
Their costumes were also a tactile delight of texture, some with scaled black leather, some with shredded silk pieces; one had an amazing corset that looked like wood. The most incredible, though, was Moth's. Somehow, with clear sea glass beads knit with wire, the designer had fashioned a dress that actually seemed made of water droplets for the Moth character.
If you want to check out my Midsummer fairy looks and other fun pictures that provided inspiration, check out the book's Pinterest board.
There's more info about the book below if you're curious. Even though it's not a paranormal. ;)
Blurb:
After dating her childhood sweetheart Max on and off for years,
aspiring actress Nicola Charles is finally ready to move on. It’s time
for her to focus on her stage career and stay away from Max–before he
can break her heart again.
Max regrets hurting Nicola, but he wants another chance. So when his
play loses its leading lady, giving Nicola the part seems like the
perfect opportunity to win back his old flame.
But the course of true love—and a theater production—never do run
smooth. As Max fights to reignite Nicola’s love, the onstage antics
can’t rival the bedlam backstage: a neurotic cast, a prickly crew, and
an evil diva of a director who’s got designs on Max.
As Nicola and Max battle to keep the drama onstage, Max can’t help
wondering if their romance will end with the last performance. Or have
the two of them finally captured what they’ve dreamed of all their
lives? True Love.
Each month the RT editors
select one book that is not only compelling, but pushes the boundaries
of genre fiction. This book stands out from all the others reviewed that
month, in the magazine issue and on the website. June 2014's RT Seal of Excellence — the editors' pick for best book of the month — is awarded to Jeffe Kennedy's fantasy romance, The Mark of the Tala.
All of us here at Paranormal Romantics have experienced the ups and downs of the paranormal marketplace. These days we're told that paranormal romance is a dead genre and don't even think the word "vampire." And yet, we know readers are still hungry for it. Hell - WE are hungry for it.
The problem is nobody's entirely sure what they're hungry for.
When a genre becomes "hot," like paranormal romance and urban fantasy did, you can watch a very predictable curve in the marketplace. A book or several books hit big - like Twilight - and create tremendous interest. We read those books and want more like that. The editors buy them up, because the editors are buying - and because they're inspired by the books they're reading - writers write more like that. The shelves get flooded and, like a hit song overplayed on the radio, soon we're sick of the whole thing. We'll turn off the radio before we have to hear that song one more time.
Except, we still want music. Even that kind of music.
I think this is why it's important to remember to write what we want to, not for the market. I got really lucky with this Twelve Kingdoms trilogy, because the books just happen to be coming out at a time where there's an upsurge of interest in fantasy. To some extent, I thought this could happen. I had already written the book that became The Mark of the Tala when I attended a conference two years ago. At the TOR/Forge spotlight, I asked the panel of editors if they thought Game of Thrones being on HBO would create interest in more fantasy of that type. The gals exchanged bemused glances and said, well, maybe? And one explained that, to them and anyone else in SFF publishing, George RR Martin's series was old news. It was a funny moment, watching them process that this would not be true for all those TV watchers discovering this kind of story for the first time.
However, if I'd decided then and there to write my book, I would have missed this particular moment. My agent sold it a few months later and it just came out. That's where the luck comes in.
But I wrote in the first place out of love - and that's the key.
Have you ever been so hungry that it was the only thing that occupied your mind?
It's one of our primal drives.
We all have to eat.
What if you didn't just need food to survive? What lengths would you go to live and how would you live with yourself afterwards? These are questions that Pia Blyton suffers through in Ravenous.
Suffer
the hunger.
Pia
Blyton wants it all. A steady boyfriend, love and her independence. But to
ignore her succubus nature is to welcome chaos. Every three days she must
orgasm to feed. Bad sex isn’t an option. Stave off the hunger for too long and
her demon side peeks out, and its tastes are much less discerning than hers.
One
bad day, one wrong decision, and her demon takes control of her libido and
kisses all her best intentions goodbye.
Brokenhearted
and ashamed, Pia is dragged home to Lake City by Zur-Sin, a vampire her father
paid to find her. Caught in a world where mortal desires are seen as a
weakness, Pia needs to figure out how to protect her heart from her deepest
longings.
Cold iron bit into my wrists when
I rolled on my side and turned my back toward the door. The insistent knocking
drilled into my aching head. I stifled a moan. If I stayed real quiet maybe
they’d leave, thinking the motel room was empty. From the searing pain in my
abdomen and the weakening demands of my inner demon, I only had a few hours
left to live.
The crack of wood splintering
replaced the pounding. I jerked at the sharp noise and twisted around. Hanging
on the hinges, my door had smashed open. Someone flicked the switch on and the
lights burned my sensitive eyes. I tried to shield my face with my hand but the
chains holding the manacles around my wrists clanked and held my arm inches
from the mattress.
“No.” I yelled. “Get out!” My
chains rattled as I lunged at them. They snapped me back against the mattress
and my head flopped on the pillow as a surge of sexual frustration flooded my
system. My demon nature had quieted to a dull roar since yesterday but the
scent of males had awoken the beast. It roared inside my head and clawed to
retake control of my body. “Yes, stay,” it whispered.
Two people strode into the room.
Light haloed around them so I couldn’t make any details. “Close the door,
Cooper.” The shorter one knelt by my bed. “You look terrible for a succubus.”
I blinked my eyes until I could
focus, and cleared my throat. “Get the fuck out.” I just wanted to die and take
my demon with me.
The young man tilted his head to
the side as if confused. Blond with blue eyes the same shade as a tropical sea,
he didn’t look much older than nineteen. “I’m here to rescue you, sweetheart.”
He caressed my cheek and all thoughts of saving him stopped on a dime.
I leaned into his touch and
purred. “Yes, let me go.” My demon fought me for control.
He jumped to his feet and stepped
back, his gaze caressing my body as if trying to decide where to start
undressing me. “Fuck.”
I’d seen human males react to me
this way. The hungrier I grew, the more they would want me. Neither of us could
control that reaction. My body would pump fuck-me pheromones in the air until
it was fed.
The second man came into my view,
a little taller than the blond, with tawny hair down to his muscled shoulders.
His thread bare t-shirt and faded jeans clung to all the right places. “What’s
wrong?”
“Look at her body. She’s
emaciated. Someone left her here to starve.” He watched me as I struggled
against my chains.
I could only sit in the back of
my head and scream in silence. What I called my demon nature was really a
survival instinct. It grew more powerful when I got too hungry. I’d find myself
humping some schmuck behind a Dumpster if I didn’t feed every three days. This
was day seven.
I shuddered. This drive to orgasm
was what ruined my life. All I ever wanted was to be loved. Why could
every other creature have it but my kind?
The blond searched the bathroom,
the closet and under my bed. “I don’t think it’s a trap. If it was, they would
have set her loose on us by now.”
“A trap?” Tawny, gorgeous Cooper
retreated to the door. “You said we were here to help her.” He readjusted the
crotch of his tight jeans. His gaze wandered back to me and he swallowed hard.
“We are, but I wasn’t expecting this.
Her father said she’d run away but this looks more like a kidnapping.”
“Well, unchain her and let’s go.”
The blond grew still and glared
at Cooper. Suddenly, he didn’t seem nineteen anymore and the power radiating
off him sent my supernatural Richter scale off the chart. So, not human, which
explained how he knew my father.
Cooper shrank against the door,
his gaze pinned to the cheap carpeting. “Sorry.”
“Sorry, what?”
“Sorry, master.” His voice shook.
“Use your fucking nose and see if
you can pick up the scent of whoever chained her to the bed.” The master ran a
finger along the sole of my foot.
I rolled my hips, inviting him to
take off the yoga pants. I wanted his hands on my skin, not teasing my feet.
No, no touching, no feeling. I clawed at the demon. I wouldn’t lose this time.
Cooper had walked around the room
sniffing at random areas. “It’s hard to pinpoint scents in motel rooms,
Zur-Sin. There’s too much traffic, but hers are the freshest and I don’t pick
up anything else as new.”
That name snapped both me and my
demon out of our horny trance. Oh, shit. I’d heard of him. If the devil was a
rock star, Zur-Sin was his lead guitarist.
“Look at her.” There was a touch
of awe in Zur-Sin’s voice. “Starved and in desperate need of a shower, yet
she’s got me eager enough to cum in my pants like I was fifteen all over
again.” He glanced at his erection, then at Cooper’s. “You too. Now that’s
power.” He pulled out his phone and took a picture of me. “See? I’m even
sending proof to Flynn.”
“No!” I cried out. Fear of
hurting my father somehow trumped my demon for a second and gained control
again.
“Oops, too late.” He shook his
head. “What am I going to do with you, Pia?”
I'd never written a bad boy before, until Vadim Bazarov. He first showed up as a secondary character in Trancehack, the first book in the Magic Born trilogy. The gleefully foul-mouthed nightclub owner had a fondness for booze and casual drugs. He routinely bribed and blackmailed to get his way. But most important of all, he ran the local underground that helped witches and Normals alike escape the horrific Magic Laws. With every new scene that featured him, I loved him more. So when it was time to write the second book in the trilogy, Witchlight, I knew Vadim would be my (anti-)hero.
Vadim did not disappoint. As the beginning of Witchlight unfolds, he finds himself needing to blackmail someone in power who can provide access to sensitive information and documents. He finds a target in city councilwoman Lizzie Marsden, a secret Magic Born whose wealthy family hid her status as a witch. What he doesn't count on is meeting his match. Vadim and Lizzie both are full of contradictions, passionate and driven. They clash at first, but soon their undeniable attraction leads to sparks of a different kind. But there are forces at work that may keep outlaw witch and bad boy Vadim apart from his beautiful, complex ice queen Lizzie.
In 2066, the Magic Born are segregated in urban reservations. The laws do not protect them, or their allies.
Councilwoman Elizabeth Marsden is a powerful player in New Corinth politics, but a closely guarded secret could destroy her life—she's a hidden Magic Born. Her family has gone to great lengths to erase all her magic-related records, until a trancehacking outlaw discovers the last remaining one…
Vadim Bazarov smuggles Magic Borns through the underground railroad and threatens to reveal Elizabeth's secret unless she helps him access blank ID cards. Elizabeth wants to hate him for having a stranglehold on her life, but can't help being attracted to someone so sure of who and what he is.
Vadim initially sees her as a political ice queen, but is intrigued by her suppressed magical abilities. He trains Elizabeth to use her magic, and before long finds himself falling for her. But their newfound love may be shortlived; an anti-magic ordinance forces one of them to make a choice that will change both their lives for good.
This is a hard topic. Maybe it’s because I never liked bad
boys. I remember them from high school. They wore blue jeans to school
(horrors!) and white T-shirts, cigarette packs tucked into their rolled-up
sleeves. They hung out in a pack, just outside the school fence. And they
SMOKED. They leered at girls and shouted at us as we walked back into school
after lunch.
Scary.
As I grew older, I still stayed away from the bad boys. Just
call me Goodie-Two-Shoes. But I love reading about them or watching them on TV or movies. Especially when a GTS
reforms him. More likely, he already has the character of a good guy. Bad Boy is just a façade.
My favorite bad boy is Captain Malcolm Reynolds of the short-lived TV series Firefly and the movie Serenity. He was a
rebel in the war and stayed one by working on the fringes of space. He and his
team are scavengers, carrying cargo of dubious legality. Captain Mal seems hardhearted.
He’s been beaten down by the Alliance but refuses to stay down. He grouses
about his passengers yet, underneath, you know he cares about them.
Finding a way to not only survive but work outside the “system”
is Mal’s strength. Another is that he takes responsibility for his crew. One of
the hardest episodes for me to watch was when the ship’s life support system
fails and he orders the crew to leave in the shuttles to find aid. He stays
behind. Alone. Being rescued would be a miracle. My heart ached for him in his
loneliness and despair. Yet he had to do the right thing with his crew. He gave
them a fighting chance of staying alive.
Self sacrifice. What more could you ask for in a bad boy?
We’re looking forward to the release of Dragon Age: Inquisition, coming to us soon (not nearly soon enough) from Bioware. We’re very interested to see how the character of Cole plays out, especially. Cole is an enigma—when we first meet him in Asunder, a Dragon Age novel, even he doesn’t know what he is. Is he a spirit? A demon? A ghost? Perhaps the final answer will lie more in what Cole does than in what he’s made of.
We know that he’s not human and he’s not sure that he wants to be. He does know right from wrong, and he knows that it’s wrong to hurt the innocent. With the ability to move unseen and the power to make people forget he was ever there, Cole is an excellent companion in any kind of war party. He’s also a very kind creature, willing to help simply for the sake of helping, because he can be forgotten after.
Often, when we write paranormal creatures, our characters may not know what those strange things are but those strange things certainly know themselves. That’s what makes Cole so interesting. A character who doesn’t know themselves is a window to a world of magic and paranormal laws that we might not ever see otherwise.
In our writing, it’s often tempting to err on the side of certainty, to always explain things to the reader, to never leave a matter so vague as to be questionable or confusing. But, perhaps, with a character that doesn’t know what they are something new can come to light. Maybe we can explore the unusual laws of our various universes through their self-discovery. So we’re looking forward to Cole and to what he tells us about one of our favourite game worlds—and what his story tells us about how to unveil the inner workings of the supernatural in our of writing.
One of our themes this month is Bad Boys. Oh, whatever will I write about? I think a gambling demon thief and con man who happens to be a BDSM top and a celestial brothel owner—as well as one of Russia’s vory v zakone—probably qualifies.
In the upcoming third installment in my Demons of Elysium series, Master of the Game, the aforementioned bad boy, Belphagor, is up to his
usual tricks. But Master of the Game also features another bad
boy: Silk.
In Book 2, King of Thieves, readers meet Silk, a 21-year-old
demon pretending to be a 16-year-old at an underage brothel. More than a
few reviewers and readers mentioned curiosity about further adventures
with Silk—along with trepidation about whether he could be trusted. The
answer to that question depends on who you are. Silk looks out for
himself, but he’ll put his life on the line for those he cares about if
he has to. Then again, if there’s money in it for him, he may just put
your life on the line. You just never know.
I had a lot of fun writing Silk, precisely because he’s so hard to
figure out. Belphagor and his lover, the firespirit Vasily, are fairly
easy to read. They may have a few secrets, but their hearts are worn on
their sleeves. What they’re feeling is pretty much never a secret,
particularly with Vasily, who speaks (or roars) before he thinks. But
Silk, even as a character in my own head, was full of secrets. I never
knew what would happen when he walked into a room, and half the time, I
didn’t even know if I believed him when he said something.
Whether you trust Silk or not, there’s never a dull moment when he shows
up. And my cover artist at Samhain, Kanaxa, captured him perfectly:
Love is the ultimate game changer…and this time it’s winner take all.
Now that his lover is back in his arms, Belphagor is taking his own sweet time to say the words Vasily longs to hear: “You’re my boy.” And savoring the sweet torture of driving the firespirit into a frenzy of unfulfilled need.
As the undisputed master of Heaven’s gaming tables, Belphagor never plays unless he’s certain of winning. But this time, political machinations send the game—and Vasily—tumbling to the brink of even his formidable control.
Vasily can’t deny enjoying their delightfully edgy play—until the airspirit auctions him off for a night to the one demon with a gift for taking things too far. Seductive Silk, tight-lipped about the end of his relationship with the sweet submissive Phaleg, may also be involved with a new faction threatening the pregnant queen of Heaven.
Belphagor couldn’t be less interested in the games angels play, but when angelic and demonic intrigues overlap, he’s drawn in against his will. And forced to break his one inviolable rule: Never gamble what you can’t afford to lose.
We had two choices for theme of the month and I'm going with men in uniform, but adding a science fiction twist, and of course guys in uniform are always hot. Right?
First, major respect and appreciation to the men AND women in uniform for their country in real life, and for the veterans and the families.
OK, if I was going to pick my favorite military man in uniform in SF, it would have to be Corporal Hicks in the movie "Aliens", as portrayed by Michael Biehn. I always go for that Southern accent and the man is not only good looking, he's calm, deadly with pulse rifle and can survive an Alien encounter.
A close tie for second would be Raleigh Becket and Stacker Pentecost in "Pacific Rim." Played by Charlie Hunnam and Idris Elba respectively, they cancel the Apocalypse and keep us all safe from alien Kaiju. (And the character of Mako Mori, played by Rinko Kikuchi, was wonderful!)
Then there's "Firefly" and Captain Mal...."Independence Day" with Will Smith's fighter pilot (although I actually preferred Jeff Goldblum's civilian character)...
When I'm writing science fiction, I almost always make the hero a Special Forces soldier in the Sectors military. (The Sectors being the galactic civilization where my SFR novels take place.) I think they're the most bad ass guys around, the kind of people I want to come rescue me, fight my way out of danger with and celebrate the victory in all possible ways together with. The quiet professonals, as we say of the modern day Navy SEALs.
So far I've done three SFR novels (the 3rd, "Mission to Mahjundar" is coming in August) and the three heroes share some things in common, while being very different individuals. Nick Jameson, in "Wreck of the Nebula Dream," has just come off a really bad mission, blames himself for the loss of his Team and seems to be trying to drink himself to oblivion while on his way to a court martial. But when danger threatens the ship he's on, he's right there, working to save the civilians, putting his life on the line for theirs. It helps that a certain beautiful and competent galactic businesswoman is at his side.
In "Escape From Zulaire," Tom Deverane has served his time and would retire if he
thought he could handle peace and quiet. He's hiding a secret, which has the potential to endanger everyone whose life he's trying to save. Despite all the odds being against them on a planet descending into war, he refuses to give up. And Andi, the woman he was sent to rescue, turns out to be the key to mission success, with her hard headedness and local contacts.
In "Mission to Mahjundar," (cover reveal SOON, book out in August) Mike Varone has one last job to do before he takes early retirement to help his family out at home. The mission seems simple enough - find a downed ship and retrieve the casualties - until he's thrown into the local political intrigues, takes a detour to go tomb raiding and rescues a reluctant princess from her arranged marriage. But Princess Shalira, although blind, can channel the powers of the local gods and proves to be every bit his equal in solving the challenges they encounter.
The only easy day was yesterday, as the SEALs will tell you, whether you're on Earth or Out There.
Amazon best-seller Veronica Scott is a two-time recipient of the SFR Galaxy Award and a National Excellence in Romance Fiction Award finalist. She's written a number of science-fiction and paranormal romances, including Magic of the Nile, her most recent. You can find out more about her and her books at veronicascott.wordpress.com.
Hope
everyonehad a happy and safe Independence Day.
Keeping
with the theme of bad boys—I’ve written quite a few of them in many guises.
There have been vampires (or vampyres), cats, dogs, and wolf shifters. I’ve
even turned a few angels into bad boys and that was fun!
There
is nothing as hot and sexy as a bad boy who champions a cause, one we can watch
fall in love, become tender and a little needy in the hands of the right woman.
Why do we love reading these stories? Because in each of us is the woman they
fall in love with, the woman they’ll do anything in their power to win and protect.
There’s
a special place in my heart for the Sovereignkind cats who shift into vampyres.
These guys can walk in daylight, so they pose a threat to pure vamps who can
only walk at night. One of my favorites isHot Tin Rooffeaturing Leron Wilder,
a jaguar.
Corinne
Nelson loves her new home and her new job as a waitress at the Coffee Swirl,
and she's really hoping she won't have to move on this time. Life's finally
looking up until the hottest man she's ever met walks into the shop -- and
licks her hand?
Mating
is not something Leron is looking forward to. Yet the minute he tastes the new
waitress, he knows he's in serious trouble. She's a flavor he could find
addictive. But she's not who she says she is, and everything's falling apart
around them. He's starting to feel like a cat on a hot tin roof...
The
lot at the Coffee Swirl filled up fast. Leron saw Jag's Lotus right in front.
He really did miss the guy. He couldn't pop in on him like he used to in the
mornings, not with Barbara there, but he could always catch him at the Swirl.
"Now,
the Lotus, that's a real car."
"Jesus
Christ, get the fuck out of my car, Trent. You better pray Jag will take your
ass back to the compound."
"I'll
ride with him because you're in a pissy mood."
Leron
stepped from the car and slammed the door shut, wincing at the force he used.
He bounded up the steps, taking two at a time. He walked inside and saw Jag's
head come up immediately in the booth where they usually sat.
"Hey,
man. How you been? Trent, what's up?" Jag looked happy as hell to see him
and that improved Leron's mood a little.
"Stopped
by to catch up, check on how you're doing."
"He
misses you," Trent chimed in.
Leron
wheeled around, collared the youngster, and slammed him against the plate glass
window. His temper was on a short fuse today. His claws had begun to emerge
when he heard Barbara's voice. "Let him go, Leron."
Shit. He brushed his hand down the
front of Trent's tee. "Just straightening the kid up a bit. He's
sloppy." A hiss whistled past his teeth. "Sorry, Barb."
"I'll
get you a coffee, you go talk to Jag. By the way, he misses you too." She
grinned and went behind the counter. She'd made him happy. Leron had started to
feel like a girly-man pining away for the company of his best friend. It was
good to know his buddy felt the same way.
He
flopped into the seat across from Jag and grinned at the cat.
"Kid
getting on your nerves?"
"He's
everywhere, always into something. Thinks he's a badass."
The
door to the back of the shop opened, and Leron glanced up. His nostrils flared
at the magnificent smell that assailed him. Citrus, which reminded him of
oranges. Long, honey-colored hair flew in a spray around slender shoulders as
the woman spun with a tray in her hand. He caught his breath and held it.
Christ, she was tall. The most beautiful creature he'd ever seen. Hazel eyes
glanced across the room and locked with his. A whoosh of air left his mouth on
a moan.
"Easy,
big guy," Jag said, following the direction of his eyes.
"Who
is she?"
"Corinne.
Cory Nelson. Things picked up a bit so Barb hired her. She's new in town and
needed a job."
"Where's
she from?"
"I
could ask Barb. Why?"
Leron
faced Jag. "No particular reason." His heart beat like a drum. Her
scent wafted across the room and teased him. The day had just gotten better. He
rolled his head around, but the muscles remained tight. His fangs tingled. This
wasn't a feeling he liked. Damn, maybe the guy he fed from that morning did
drugs or something.
"Leron,
you okay?"
"I
don't know. Lately I've been a little distracted. That's all. Want to get
together at the compound tonight? A bunch of us are going to hang out."
"Sure.
I've been meaning to come by anyway. I'll let Barb know." The joy that lit
Jag's face was pathetic. Leron hoped he never got pussy whipped like that.
"Here's
your black coffee." It was her. The silken sound of her voice slid right
down to his cock. As she was putting his cup on the table, he tried to touch
her hand. She pulled away and the hot liquid sloshed over the side and burned
her hand. The cup rattled in the saucer and tilted over. "Oh, my God, I'm
so sorry."
Leron
spoke quickly. "It was my fault. Are you okay? Let me look." An angry
red blister had already formed on the back of her hand. His cat instincts took
over and he brought her hand to his mouth and began to lick the red welt. His
tongue lapped at her as if she was today's special. He had lost his mind and
didn't know where the fuck to find it.
Her
body trembled and she tried to pull her hand back. "Mister..."
"Let
her go."
Jag's
tone was soft and non-threatening, but Leron saw red. Best friend be damned. He
had no right to tell Leron he couldn't touch her. Suddenly, some sense came
back to him. "Cory, right? I'm sorry...I..." He never got to finish.
She left so fast, his head spun. He watched her tight ass move away down the
aisle. Son of a bitch!
Confusion
rained down on him. His heart beat out of control, his lungs were full of her
scent, and his dick was ready to explode. The taste on his tongue was divine.
He heard Jag's laugh from a million miles away. "What?" The sound of
the swinging door to the back drew his attention. Barb stormed their way. Hell.
Jag
said, "You're in for it now."
She
stopped at the table, and her brow quirked up. He looked down at the spilled
mess still there. "Look, you can't come in here and lick my employees.
Keep that catty stuff outside. And you," she wheeled around to Jag,
"are no better. Why didn't you stop him?"
"For
the same reason he couldn't stop me when I wanted you."
Leron's
head snapped up, and he looked from one to the other with his jaw hung open.
Sometimes their blood bond was a pain in the ass. "No way, dude. No.
Fucking. Way."
"Way,
very much way. You just licked your mate's hand." Jag laughed again and
Barb joined him.
Writers
are often asked the question, “Where do
you get your ideas from?”
Inspiration
is different for every writer and sometimes that inspiration runs dry, or hits
a wall and the muse becomes silent. Some call it writer’s block, others might
say it’s a mental block, but most would agree in calling it frustrating when the
faucet runs dry and the words that had flowed so freely have now sputtered to a
stop.
Just
as each writer has different methods of writing their story, most have their
own method of getting their muse freed to keep the stories flowing.
One
of my best ways to free my muse is right in line with the Bad Boys of Summertheme…
You know the ones…loud, leather-wearing, tattooed, sexy, confident…
Bikers.
Of course I must point
out that this is the Stereotypical (though hot) image of a biker as many biking
groups are well known for their fundraising rides, support of military,
retirees or for a social group.
With bikes, bands, a parade,
food stands and more...it attracts both bikers and those of the four-wheeled
variety as well.
Lucky
for me I have my own Bad Boy Biker. It used to be that I was a tad jealous of
his love for her (which you can read about on my blog...here) but then decided…If I can’t beat her, might as well join them. It’s been one of the best ways for me
to awaken my muse as I cling to my hero’s back and watch the world rush by.
So for
me requesting a ride on the back of his big, sexy beast of a motorcycle helps
clear away the cobwebs of my story for it to flow freely through my mind. Thus why
I have tiny tablets stashed everywhere to jot down ideas.
So it came as no
surprise to me to find that in my upcoming release, DESTINY CALLING, my Bad Boy
happens to be a biker who despite/because of his bad boy persona, my heroine
has a hard time resisting.
Here are other strategies a few of my fellow Paranormal Romantics offered to help defeat Writer’s
Block and Free the Muse:
Sometimes I take a step back; stop writing
and watch TV or read a book and then hit the writing the next day. Normally
stress is what's blocking me so have to take the pressure off of myself and
approach things with a clear head. ~Selena Illyria
I
listen to music, all kinds, which usually sets my creativity loose again!
~Veronica Scott
When my Muse takes a hike, I watch
movies—esp. a science fiction thriller. If it has a romance, all the better.~ Diane Burton
I
let things rest and percolate in the background while I concentrate on other
things, such as figuring out how I was going to market my upcoming novel.
Promoting other authors. Writing short pieces for blogs. Reading books for fun!
I am
a creature of habit, so I absolutely don’t like change and it appears change
upsets the flow of my writing. So after the great hard drive crash of 2014, my
muse hit the highway, and did not return until I had my laptop fixed, was
sitting in my office cross-legged on the daybed at 3:30 in the morning with a
cup of coffee beside me.~ Sophia Kimble
If
I'm writing on the computer I will switch to writing long hand. Sometimes I can
squeeze out several more pages just doing that.
~Beth Matthews
is a not a paranormal (it's a straight-up romantic comedy) BUT the play from which it 
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