The good, the bad, the ugly

My new office and desk: good.

Throat on fire, fever, and chills: bad.

Spending so long in the doctor's office and pharmacy that we're feeling worse than ever: ugly.

At least I'm back in the comfort of my office. It's quiet down here in the basement. Got my nature sounds CD's, no kids running amok, and some warm tea with honey for my throat. Now all I need is a lounge chair for napping.

What's that? Am I actually going to write in here, you ask? Or just listen to "Caribbean Breeze" and nap all day? Of course I'm going to write, you ninny. I'm writing right now, aren't I? What do you mean blogging doesn't count? Ok, ok, I'm slowly working on rewriting yet another romantic fantasy, and after the new year, I plan to get way more productive than I am now. I DID just move and it IS just a couple weeks before Christmas. Give the poor sick mama of three a break, will ya?

Speaking of more ugly, here's a question for you. This one trips me up big time. I'm not a planner. I've tried outlining some stories. I've got an outline for a historical romance done, and I've done a few character outlines, which can be helpful, but extensive story planning to me is about as fun as waiting all day in the doctor's office with two sick, crying children (just ask me how fun that is--go ahead).

Do you plan your stories? And how extensively? And is there a way to make planning them fun? Writing is work--yes, got that. I work very hard on what I write and revise, but the whole planning it out thing just hasn't stuck with me yet. I'm not even sure how essential it really is, but there's your question of the day/week/whenever I get around to posting next.

The comment area is open. Feel free to write away. I'll get more tea.

Woot! 800 visitors! An excerpt is in order...

From Chapter 5 (Galadin):

As if history pulled me along, I headed in the direction of our old cottage. The stone foundation still stood, covered in vine and brush. I pulled back some of the growth and sat on one of the old stones. Razor climbed from my arm and sat beside me. Life had taken its toll on this place. And me. Maybe Claude had been right. Maybe I was fooling myself. I’d hoped running my father’s old business and doing an honest day’s work would absolve my sins. Forty-five years old, still young for a half-elf, but old enough to know life didn’t work like that. People reaped what they sowed. Eventually, I’d have to gather a bitter harvest.

We hunted for another hour or so, circling around in the direction of Leogard. Another rabbit ran past, and I sent Razor after it. I hurried through the bush, draeberry thorns catching my clothes. Pulling my way free, I stumbled and smacked directly into…her.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Are you all right?” I asked.

Caliphany lowered her hood and smoothed out her robes. She smiled. I admit I’d held a vague hope we would cross each other’s paths again, but I’d also told myself a woman of her class and a man of mine had no business being seen with one another. Even though I didn’t know who she was exactly, the clothes she wore told me she didn’t mingle regularly with us working classes.

She tucked some hair behind her ear and blushed. “Captain Trudeaux.”

I bowed. “My lady.”

“Please don’t bow.” She avoided my gaze and clenched her robe. “You weren’t at the docks this morning. I thought you had gone.”

Razor had started tearing into the rabbit, so I held up my finger. “One moment, please.” I knelt to retrieve him and the carcass before it was gone.

Razor eyed Caliphany when I returned to her side. “I sent my men on to Faewood. They’ll be back by the week’s end. We had some Tilliyan coffee beans to deliver.”

Her shoulders slumped. “I’ve read a lot about Tilliya Island.” Her eyes focused somewhere in the distance, and then rested on me again. “So, you’re a falconer?”

“I’m a ranger. Razor accompanies me from time to time. We sell what we hunt and gather. Sometimes I help thin out wildlife. It’s just my job.”

The words rolled off her tongue. “A ranger.”

I nodded, a bit annoyed she found my profession so curious. I killed things for a living. It was a hard, dirty job, one I was sure she could never understand. I cleared my throat. “I’m glad to see you’re in one piece, though still unescorted. Would you like me to walk you back to Leogard?”

She held up a satchel. “I’m gathering plant specimens.”

“As you wish. Well, good day then. I’ve got work to do.” I began to walk away.

“Wait,” she said.

I turned, and Caliphany approached me, opened her mouth, shut it again, and finally spoke. “I wanted to thank you for rescuing me.”

If she was any other woman, from the lower end of society, I might have thought she was flirting. “You already did, I believe, and it’s not necessary. Good day.” I tried to walk away again.

“Wait.”

Razor screeched and puffed his feathers when I turned back around. “Easy, now. Look, Caliphany, it’s really not necessary-”

“I want you to train me.”

I stepped closer. She blushed. I wrinkled my brow and asked, “Pardon?”

The words tumbled from her mouth. “You know how to handle yourself, handle weapons. I want to learn that as well. Will you train me?”

Playing with the templates

Trying to find something that fits the cover of "A Ranger's Tale". What do you think of this one?

I'm back...kinda

Moving throws a wrench into everything. If you're moving farther than across town--say, 2 1/2 hours away--it really is a big change. Kids start a new school tomorrow, hubby starts a new job, and I start a new life handling things for my family.

The good news is, I've got a whole new room that will (eventually) be set up as my own office. A new desk is coming this week. We have internet service again, and after a few thousand more boxes get unpacked and we get through the holidays, I'm looking forward to a new year of lots of writing!

Seriously having withdrawals, people. But, I'm looking forward to working on an anthology of three tales scheduled for release next fall, plus finishing up that historical romance I started last year. I hate that I've let that one sit for so long. It shall be finished, so help me Lord.

A Ranger's Tale will be out in February. I'll keep you all updated on it's release. Until then, hope you all have a great holiday season! More excerpts to come...

Honorable Mention for "Buyer's Remorse"

I won an honorable mention (one of the top 25 out of 300) for Women on Writing's summer flash fiction contest. I'm really excited! It's the first contest I've submitted to since high school.

Here's the link if you'd like to read:

Buyer's Remorse

Holiday Sale at Midnight Showcase!

All digests and novels, including "Hearts of Tomorrow", which includes my novelette "Let There Be Love" are on sale for $3.99!

Follow the picture link above to order!

Yet another scene from "A Ranger's Tale"

Since I'm moving soon and don't know what my blog time will look like for a long while, I'll give you yet another scene. Hope you enjoy! Feedback is welcome!

From Chapter 33...

About a mile ahead, we reached the Greenbriar Hills, where outcroppings of white rocks dotted the rolling landscape like toppled pawns on a chessboard. Jayden and I shared fearful glances. The ambush opportunity was great. We were lucky to have clear skies, and few trees, but it was necessary for us to ride far ahead of the caravan to ensure the way was clear.

We approached the first outcropping, where two rock formations flanked the road. A sense of dread mounted inside me. Jayden stared at the ground and motioned for us to stop before we rode between the rocks.

“Cali,” he whispered, “go back to the caravan. Tell the guards to draw arms.”

“Can’t we just turn around?”

“Too late. We’d never outrun them. Go!”

I tugged on the reins and turned Charlot back. When I reached the caravan, I yelled, “Guard the mages!”

The six paladins drew their swords, and flanked in closer to the carriages, surrounding them on all sides. My father leaned out the window of his carriage. “What’s happening?”

“I think your enemies are upon us.”

“Then I will fight.”

His face held a mixture of regret and determination. A fiery spark ignited in his eyes. I caught a glimpse of my father’s renowned power, the magic that Academy students whispered about in the corridors, magic that had once ensured my uncle’s throne. I felt a swell of pride to be his daughter in that moment, but I had no idea what kind of threat we faced. He was some five hundred years old, and had not faced any foes for a very long time.

I readied my bow. “You might have to, but stay in the carriage for now.”

Tension filled the air like a sickening fog. The only sounds were the horses shifting their feet. Not a bird sang. Not a puff of wind blew.