Only 572 words. On the up side, I finished scene eight, chapter five! WOO HOO! Definite problems developing between Jenna and Margaurethe. It's gonna take some work to keep them patched together.

I read Writing the Breakout Novel by Donald Maas when I brainstormed the first book. One of the questions was: Why should I care? What is the worst thing that could happen to your Main Character? Make that happen. In the first book, I realized that Jenna had no serious repercussions in the whole thing so I made the entire act of Turning into a MUST DO. If she didn't finish, she'd go insane and become a Nosferatu like creature.

But in this book, the death threat is still there. I don't want it to simply be a repeat of the first one. (Assassin hired, goes in for the kill, loses, ho hum. Didn't we read this before?) So I applied the same question to this book. Jenna no longer fears death, per se. Well, other than the fears we all face, yes? Instead, she fears losing Margaurethe and perhaps becoming another tyrant like Elisibet.

So, yes, this book will cover both. These beginning issues with Margaurethe will escalate over the course of the book and Elisibet's anger and control will begin to surface in Jenna. Should put a different spin on things.

(A spook from Elisibet's past has arrived on the scene to offer his services to the new queen. Margaurethe is unaware of his arrival until she feels some surprise from Jenna and arrives with the cavalry.)

Her demeanor one of over protective parent, Margaurethe insinuated herself between Dorst and Jenna. “Why are you here?”


“To swear fealty to our new Queen, of course. Isn’t that proper etiquette for the followers of a monarch?”


Despite the apparent belief he was a threat, Margaurethe turned her back on him to look at Jenna across the table. “Is this true?”


“Yes. It’s been done, Margaurethe. He’s sworn his oath to me and I’ve accepted him as an advisor.”Jenna did not mention that she had also accepted Castillo, Valmont and Margaurethe in the same capacity with no vow from them. The woman already chafed under Jenna’s attempts to take control. Any discussion of the problem between them should occur in private.


Her lips thinned and emerald eyes, which so recently reflected understanding, snapped with irritation. Whirling about, Margaurethe glared at Dorst. “You advised Elisibet during her reign and then disappeared rather than defend her honor after she was brutally murdered. I will never forget such cowardice, Reynhard.”


He raised his eyebrows at the attack.


“Margaurethe!”


The woman jumped at the sharp word.


Jenna stood behind the table, anger in every line. “Thank you, Margaurethe. You’re opinion is noted,” she said, her voice controlled. “Please, leave us.”


Margaurethe gaped at Jenna and swallowed. Her olive skin blanched as she realized she crossed a subtle line between them. She opened her mouth to speak.


“Please.” Jenna’s expression softened. “I’ll be fine.”


After a minor hesitation, Margaurethe bowed her head. She swept past Dorst who remained silent until the door closed behind her.

Ahhh…trouble in paradise.

Finished 1067 words today. Beginnings of a power struggle between Margaurethe the Protector and Jenna the Queen. Definitely puts a bit of a damper on the romance. Margaurethe keeps trying to run the show and Jenna's beginning to resist her control over all things royal. We'll see how it goes.

And 1271 words today! Pretty durned productive. Only 4k this week cuz I slacked for two days and did editing all of yesterday. But otherwise, I'm keeping up on the 1k per day thing. Hope to eventually increase my production to 1.5k per day. NaNoWriMo is coming up in November . . . I've gotta put out an average of 1666 words a day for that to be accomplished.

It's done! Castle Walls is now back in Cindy's court! WOO HOO!

If I'm lucky, I'll only have to read it one more time when I get the proof.

I spent all my midmorning and early afternoon hours slogging through Castle Walls. I think I caught all the repeated words, nit picky capitals, etc. I now have to read through it again before sending it back to my editor. Don’t let anybody fool you – getting the story down on the computer or on paper is tough, but reading and rereading your tale a dozen times before publication is a pain!

And then there's the heat wave that's acing my buddy, Nicosian. I'm quite a distance from her but it's just as bad here. UGH. When it's cold, my joints don't like to work because of arthritis. When it's hot, my feet like to swell up so I hobble everywhere. Can't win for losing, man!

Anyhoo, wanted to check in and let folks know I'm still here.

Another grand bites the dust. Just finished chapter four of Angels Deserve to Die. A little sneak peak at Valmont’s point of view; he’s meeting with Jenna on a regular basis because she insists upon it. It’s been six months since the close of Born of Silence.

“Why do you hunt when there are Vessels to be had everywhere?”


His eyebrows rose. Such was the way with Jenna; one minute discussing the weather and the next a refreshingly direct question or comment. “Because we are born to hunt, not feed off Humans like cattle.”


Jenna lifted a shoulder, and looked away as if bored. “What difference does it make? Blood is blood. A Vessel is always available.”


Valmont smiled. “So sayeth one who has never hunted.”


“Then what’s the attraction?”


Instead of answering, he posed a question. “Do you enjoy feeding from a Vessel?”


She pursed her lips, eyes narrow and unfocused. “I feel better when I’ve finished,” she said. “I enjoy it to the extent that I enjoyed eating this sandwich. It fills the need.”


He edged forward on his seat, and placed his elbows on the table, hands crossed before him. “But it tastes different when you go to the kitchen and make it yourself, doesn’t it? You can pick and choose the ingredients depending on what appeals to you at the moment. Some days you use a bit more mustard than others, others Swiss cheese instead of cheddar. You have control of your palate.”


Jenna’s gaze appeared preoccupied. He wondered if she saw a distant memory of Elisibet’s. It happened quite frequently in his presence, as if their discussions held the keys to unlock the Tyrant’s past.


“I understand the analogy.”


Valmont smiled. “I much prefer rummaging through the refrigerator to having my meals served upon demand.”

Hats off to rummaging through the refrigerator!

I know, it's not really the weekend, but mine started on Sunday.

With every intention to continue writing 1k a day, I stared at my computer screen for quite some time on Sunday. Nope. Not a damned word. sigh Instead I spent the day cleaning house and sorting through PC programs for the yard sale. Also packaged a couple pieces of my artwork for a friend and a couple of programs that were just too spendy to be putting in a yard sale. If I'm gonna give 'em away, I might as well give 'em to somebody I know, right? Now I know they'll have a good home!

On Monday, I sat once more before the computer. Nope. Not a damned word. So, I spent the morning cleaning house and sorting through all the PC books we have that we'll be dumping. Finally got my wife's new eMac delivered around noon. YEE HAW Then spent the next two and a half hours cussing and swearing because I couldn't get the furkin' adaptor to work to hook her up to the network. No amount of configurations, changes, OS 9 or OS X changes did the trick. Thank the gods I still had one computer up – I finally found the driver for OS X and was able to get it going.

Once online, I spent the next several hours doing updates. I understand why they don't have their software updates in the box or on the machine. I mean, they put the things together and box 'em up so they can sit in a warehouse until ordered (at least until the new batches come out.) But it's still a pain in the ass to download one solitary update at 84mb! Sheesh. By the time I went to bed, her computer was up and purring happily along.

Between stomping about in frustration and running between two computers as I searched online or downloaded stuff or uploaded stuff, etc, I had time to reflect on my non-writing habits. Finally figured out the problem with the scene. At last I've realized that when I can't write a scene for love or money, it's because there's something wrong with the logic. I originally had Valmont training Jenna in hand to hand combat. But really . . . would Margaurethe want the man who murdered her lover teach her lover's reincarnation such things? Granted Jenna needs to learn, but not from him!

So I swapped it about a bit. He's there because Jenna's keeping him close. Uses their time together as 'education' though he's of the opinion it's simply to keep an eye on him.

All THAT said, I pumped out 1009 this morning before leaving for work! OOOPHTAH!

Ooooo…. I'm glad to see iJournal picks up tunage from Audion 3! I love my Mac!

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. . . while I wax romantic . . . This was written last night on paper as I didn't want to forget it.

I'm at work as I write this, having spent an evening manning coatcheck (on a warm night, no less, so you can imagine the extent of my toils.) Plenty of hours to kill and I've just finished reading Tipping the Velvet by Sarah Waters for the third time.

I love this book. It calls to me. It was made into a movie in England and recently showed (censored to the max) on BBC America. Which is why I thought to pick it up for another go 'round.

As it is with books you love, a point comes when you know it as well as your own life. It breathes, it becomes a dear and comfortable friend. And you wonder. What exactly is the draw?

The main character, from whose point of view the tale unfolds, goes through tumultuous times. Not during the era of her life, which is the late 1800s of London, England. The upheavals are within herself, her identity, heart. Now that I dwell on the fictional life of Nancy Aistley, I can't help but draw comparisons to my own.

I think the biggest impact for me is the ending. Nancy's first love, her best love, her most passionate love, the woman who broke her heart six years prior – this woman appears and asks her to return. Now Nancy has been reeling from this broken heart for all this time, making one bad decision after another. She's always been of the opinion that her heart could only be mended by this woman, has always dreamed of this very thing happening. She's struck by a revelation, an epiphany.

Her heart has already been mended and belongs to the woman she's been living with the past year or more.

That would be me, as well.

My first love, my most passionate love broke my heart. It wasn't the same as the book; there are parallels but not specifics, it's the emotions that call to me, not the facts. She didn't do what the fictional woman did and our problems were a mutual thing. To top it off, I left her rather than the other way around. Oh, but I mourned that loss. Years came and went, made all the more difficult by my stupid decisions, decisions made as I reeled from the relationship.

And one day, I was in the same position as Nancy. I had the chance. I could go back, return to the arms of a woman who I thought understood me far better than the woman I was with, regardless of my original disaffection for the way things had gone. My broken heart would finally heal and it could sing with the angels once again.

I turned it down. I burned those bridges so badly there's nothing but charcoal stumps in the water.

Because I realized my heart was on the mend already, aided by the lover I was with.

I can't say I was as smart as Nancy, though. I didn't even know at the time precisely why I turned away from what I had idealized over time as a grand passion. I think this is the very reason this book calls to me. For it's finally put into words what I knew to be true all those years ago when I had my chance and tossed it aside.

My lover, my friend, my wife. She accepts me unconditionally, warts and all. People say we make a cute couple (and we both grimace and turn up our noses at one another – "Cute?! Blech!") A dear friend of mine has said she's my true love. Another has said that I glow in her presence and she sparkles in mine.

The pair of us are stronger together than we've ever been apart and I know for a fact neither of us have been in other relationships that said the same. We've been through fifteen years of hell and heaven, feast and famine. I love her as I love myself for she taught me there was something of myself to love. And I've been fortunate enough to teach her the same lessons she's taught me.

So, that is the draw to this book, Tipping the Velvet, and this character, Nancy Aistley. As usual, I've been rather dense – fifteen years ago I made the decision to stay with my then girlfriend / future wife. And it's taken me fifteen of those years to figure it out.

But she loves me anyway. She's healed my heart, my mind, and my soul. I would not be who I am today without her influence no matter how much she tries to deny the responsibility.

I love you, Anna. Until the end of time and beyond.

Whew…I feel better! LOL!