I got home so late last night, I ate, unpacked, visited with the family, and crashed. Until…oh…about 30 minutes ago, when I woke up panicked, realized I didn’t have a blog for my day at Happy Endings or here. I have one there, now–just a quick overview of the panels. I’ll do more here in upcoming days. Iffy has reminded me that she needs the computer for her interview tomorrow. I think I’ll grab another nap while she talks to Moira.

Winner of the last semi-finals in the Mr. Summer contest (by a narrow vote!) is Gilles! He’ll go up against our other two winners this Saturday. (Don’t ask me who they are, my brain is running on a few sips of caffeine and I’m not even sure of my name at the moment!) Winner gets a full spread.

Winner of the WFNO bag and choice of 2 romantic suspense or 2 contemporaries by way of random.org is JANET! I’ll get the prize in the mail, along with the books I still owe Ev and Ban because…uhm…my brain was/is running on fumes.

Here is a brief rundown of the weekend: L. A. Banks (yes, THE L. A. Banks and I are soul sisters — her words, LOL). SEASON OF THE WITCH was very popular. I think I walked six miles in 2 1/2 hours on the vampire tour Sunday night (my knees are STILL complaining!). I still love New Orleans and shall have to set one of the Penumbra books there…oh…hrm. OH! Lightbulb! *plotplotplotplot* Sorry about that. And last but not least, Sarah Wendell of Smart Bitches coined the best phrase of the weekend: Bat crap crazy pants.

On that note, I have 569 emails to sort through, 77 blog posts, bills to pay, and plans to make on submissions. What did y’all do while I was gone? Oh! And RWA members…have you voted yet?!? This friendly reminder was brought to you by your local candidate for Region 5.

I forgot that I was going to post our Friday Flash story in it’s entirety. Oops. *blush* My brain has been elsewhere. Also, I forgot to mention yesterday that George Eads, my photographic model for Deke Carpenter in FAIRY TALES, was all but unanimously picked to move into the Mr. Summer finals.

So, without further adieu, here is our story:

And then she jumped me. She’d been the number one champion for the underdog, always taking up for those too scared or too timid to take up for themselves. Maybe that’s why he’d never allowed himself to fall completely in love.

“So you read about me.”

“Steady, Missy.” Strike had teleported with no training, no guidance. She doesn’t seem to be in any danger at the moment.

The Viking was bigger, stronger, and most intent on breaching the lady’s thighs. Eve was going to dig quickly to learn just how much Towers had tucked away. All she needed to do was open the sluice gates a little, and the quickest way to do that was with some good old-fashioned masturbation–or what her mother had called “naughty fingers” when Tess was growing up.

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?” she demanded.

A complaint to his supervisor resulted in nothing but a lecture about how she was clearly sending mixed signals. And the mystery woman made him want to thrust both hands directly into the black dirt. Once she flew to Seattle to visit with him over a long weekend and three times he flew to Phoenix, also for long weekend, visits that went spectacularly well.

“Why won’t you kill me?”

Still, she had a way of making the word man sound as if Jessie should, in a complete role reversal, demand her mother wash her mouth out with soap. She was no match for these men. They caught a quick bite at the deli near the hotel before hurriedly–and cautiously– grabbing their remaining belongings from their rooms and catching the 17:20 train to Aswan. The same could not be said for the man who stood staring through the floor-length windows overlooking the half-pipe in the warehouse beyond. Not that she could blame him.

Before this year, she’d fired that weapon only during her bureau training and never removed it from its holster once in the line of duty. He’s been with Luke a couple of years now and hasn’t had a single problem. Something about wanting her Faery back and you dead.

She’d been through this before. Now that we might have found him and had to go in guns blazing, I was thinking…maybe not so good. But Quigga just furrowed his brow as he looked up at the Golden Monkeys’ city. The impressive edifice had its own carbide gas generating plant in the basement, along with a coal-fired, steam radiator heating system. He’d probably thought he was leaving it behind him in Toronto, but the scandal rags of Halifax couldn’t resist sinking their teeth into a prime catch like Randall Barrett.

So try to calm down, get quiet, breathe, and listen. His strictest rule is not to get into trouble and not to give my mother a big mouth. Whereas Deliverance is about a stranger coming to the rescue, Sojourn is about a stranger coming to visit. Ours is a culture that tells us ‘bigger is always better’ and that ‘more’ is better too. I felt like I might break out in welts from sheer anxiety. The world within him, and the world as he sees it. It also made her feel like an imposter.

Although Dorothy turns back for the time being, powerful forces have been set in motion in her life. The psychological concept of the Shadow archetype is a useful metaphor for understanding villians and antagonists in our stories, as well as grasping the unexpressed, ignored, or deeply hidden aspects of our heroes. They didn’t smoke, or drink, or (if the movie Footloose was to be believed) dance. We point to well-intentioned social programs like battered women’s shelters and “dress-for-success” nonprofit organizations that help women get out from under abuse and wonder, why didn’t she seek

Cooper waited at the front door. The Fossah looked at Katook but was silent.

“I’m not!”

Monte Carson laid the three telegraph forms on his desk, his eyes fixed beyond the open door to the sheriff’s office in Big Rock, Colorado.

“I left Vinnie alone in my apartment for a few hours, and he was wearing my panties when I came home. Your arms were crossed over your chest, you had this terrifying scowl on your face… How many times you manage to fertilize an egg?”

Some days are decidedly less peaceful. Silvio Menzano was married in a private legal ceremony in Vermont in September 2009. Brighten up your garden with these colorful, hand-crafted stakes, an arresting combination of fiery, light-capturing glass and warm, smooth stone. To create a garden that emphasized symmetry and geometry, Webster began with a central water feature.

Even the best fall down sometimes. Guest blogger Shiloh Walker and Other Monsters Under the Bed. Reggie Jackson famously said “Blind men come to the park just to hear him pitch.” Welcome back Stephanie Newton.

She had never been more embarrassed, felt more rejected, not even when Wilson had left her at the altar. Someone poked her back and she whipped around startled. A slender, stylishly dressed blonde woman opened the door.

It was two hours until dawn, the bulk of my evening having been taken up by Ethan, Nick, and my father, so I took the opportunity to give the library the perusal of a former researcher. “Hello.”

“Good.”

Maybe she was crazy.

She could never focus on it, though; never place the memory. “It does not matter anyway, does it?” she said.

“No need to run little man,” one of the rogues taunted, his voice scrapping like gravel. It took time and effort to shape an effective medical team, and there would be a certain attrition rate. Oh, no, she didn’t want to fall asleep, as welcome as it might have been.

Today they will find her body. Or she has already left for work, but is running late. A.J. Sutherland was captivated by the stallion the first moment she saw him. Everyone else just took up space.

“As long as you’re with me, Lex, I can do anything.” Then he walked away. Nikita had sent them paper. For all eternity. “You, darling Sara, have captured me completely.”

“Hmm-hmm.”

It was good to know that, in at least one area of my life at least, my choices had been just fine.

“Oh my dear…” he laughed “…when we are together, the world will never, ever be the same.”

So is the hunter. I tucked the firearm into the holster under my left arm even as I rose from the chair to continue doing my job…

The End

Now all it needs is a title. Y’all have any ideas? Oh…Iffy says be sure to drop by tomorrow. She has chocolitinis to share as she interviews Deirdre O’Connor from FAERIE FIRE.

And to those of you lining up to kick my patootie about FOOL, I am writing. I know it doesn’t look like the graph is moving, but it is, slowly but surely, usually 1000 words at a time (which is only about 1% of the total in my goal) so don’t get upset if it doesn’t look like it’s moving. I promise it is!

I’m out of blog topics at the moment because I’m actually working on FOOL. I did take a break this weekend to catch up on my DVR backlog. One of the shows I always catch is FLASHPOINT, partly because I like the show and partly because it gets me in Rory’s head space. This was the song at the end of the episode, along with a montage of very romantic clips. The song very much evokes the vibe between Rory and Delaney.

Enjoy while I slave away. Oh, don’t forget the Nook contest on Long and Short of If (click the button under Friends) and comment here for an RWA bag and swag. See y’all in a bit! I’m BICHOK.

Oh. Crap. Here I was madly typing away on FAERIE FOOL when I realized I had no blog for today. It’s Thursday. What’s special about Thursday? Nothing. Nothing at all. Monday is…well *Monday*. Tuesday is NOT Monday. Wednesday is all about HUMP Day and the downhill slide to the weekend. Friday is TGIF and then we have THE WEEKEND–Saturday and Sunday–a day to party and a day to recover before Monday starts all over again. So…what is Thursday? The day before Friday, the day after Hump Day. It’s a day to get work done so you don’t have to work so hard on Friday and can maybe start the weekend a little early.

So, I’m getting work done. On FOOL. Happy now? But I have a question for you. What happens when a guy who is VERY interested in a gal walks into a restaurant and sees her with another guy? Sees her obviously very intimate with another guy? How does he react?

You think I’m teasing, right? I’m not. This book is aggravating the tar out of me! It doesn’t want to flow from start to finish. It wants to jump-start and run in high gear, idle, then kick into low gear and go somewhere completely different and uphill. I’m going to end up with all these separate scenes spaced out between **** marks. In the end, I hope I find some semblance of order for them.

I can’t figure out why Rory and Delaney are fighting me so much. Rory wants his story told. Abhean is actually being rather quiet and just watching things play out, though he’s strumming his harp. Manannan Mac Lir is off seducing someone or other. I know I have two releases next month, plus a conference, but dang it, this story shouldn’t be this hard!

Oh, well. I’ve advocated going with one’s gut when it comes to telling the story. My gut says write these random scenes as they pop into my imagination. I’ll leave it the the faerie and Iffy to stitch together a coherent story when we’re done. With all these voices in my head, I sure hope I can write by committee. My CP complains that I’m an “organic writer” whatever the heck that means. I think I’m finding out. And not necessarily in a good way. Nope. No more negativity. This book will get written and it’s going to be a terrific story. Just sayin’!

Tomorrow I’ll announce the winner of the Samhain RWA swag package. Erika won the ARC of FAERIE FIRE from Iffy. Iphigenia is Iffy’s *real* name and Erika got it in one comment! Iffy says she and Erika are BFFs now and she’s going to Erika’s house to spend the weekend.

Oh, and remember those questions I asked? Best answer might just make it into the book!

I’ve received my release date for FAIRY TALES CAN COME TRUE! Get your ereaders, Kindle/Nook/Kobo apps on your phones ready, or simply your computer! You can buy and download a .pdf file to read on the computer. It’s a fun story, short and sweet, and you KNOW you want to find out more about Alex and Deke! Just to whet your appetite, here’s a little teaser.

Blurb:

Going home for her 25th class reunion isn’t on Alex London’s radar until her assistant pulls out the fairy godmother card. News correspondent, Deke Carpenter would rather cover the nearest war than attend the reunion–yet deep down he hopes to encounter the girl who got away, Dorothy Reagan, now well-known fashion photographer, Alex London. Alex, on the other hand, has hopes of seeing the boy she carried a torch for all these years–basketball player, Marty Keegan. In one whirlwind weekend, surrounded by the ghosts of high school past, Alex and Deke discover each other and the unwritten rule of fairy godmothers everywhere: Fairy Tales Can Come True.

Iffy promises to post pictures of the characters soon. Y’all need to fuss at her if she forgets!

Wait…you ACTUALLY want to know the date? LOL. Silly peeps. September 15th! Two days before FAERIE FIRE comes out! (Though I suspect FIRE will be available in print a bit before the ebook release date! ) Oh, and the cost for FAIRY TALES? $3.50

One again, all original authors retain copyright to their words. Books and authors can be found on each previous Friday’s post. This is just intended for fun. Now with the disclaimer out of the way, here is our story from the very beginning:

And then she jumped me. She’d been the number one champion for the underdog, always taking up for those too scared or too timid to take up for themselves. Maybe that’s why he’d never allowed himself to fall completely in love.

“So you read about me.”

“Steady, Missy.” Strike had teleported with no training, no guidance. She doesn’t seem to be in any danger at the moment.

The Viking was bigger, stronger, and most intent on breaching the lady’s thighs. Eve was going to dig quickly to learn just how much Towers had tucked away. All she needed to do was open the sluice gates a little, and the quickest way to do that was with some good old-fashioned masturbation–or what her mother had called “naughty fingers” when Tess was growing up.

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?” she demanded.

A complaint to his supervisor resulted in nothing but a lecture about how she was clearly sending mixed signals. And the mystery woman made him want to thrust both hands directly into the black dirt. Once she flew to Seattle to visit with him over a long weekend and three times he flew to Phoenix, also for long weekend, visits that went spectacularly well.

“Why won’t you kill me?”

Still, she had a way of making the word man sound as if Jessie should, in a complete role reversal, demand her mother wash her mouth out with soap. She was no match for these men. They caught a quick bite at the deli near the hotel before hurriedly–and cautiously– grabbing their remaining belongings from their rooms and catching the 17:20 train to Aswan. The same could not be said for the man who stood staring through the floor-length windows overlooking the half-pipe in the warehouse beyond. Not that she could blame him.

Before this year, she’d fired that weapon only during her bureau training and never removed it from its holster once in the line of duty. He’s been with Luke a couple of years now and hasn’t had a single problem. Something about wanting her Faery back and you dead.

She’d been through this before. Now that we might have found him and had to go in guns blazing, I was thinking…maybe not so good. But Quigga just furrowed his brow as he looked up at the Golden Monkeys’ city. The impressive edifice had its own carbide gas generating plant in the basement, along with a coal-fired, steam radiator heating system. He’d probably thought he was leaving it behind him in Toronto, but the scandal rags of Halifax couldn’t resist sinking their teeth into a prime catch like Randall Barrett.

So try to calm down, get quiet, breathe, and listen. His strictest rule is not to get into trouble and not to give my mother a big mouth. Whereas Deliverance is about a stranger coming to the rescue, Sojourn is about a stranger coming to visit. Ours is a culture that tells us ‘bigger is always better’ and that ‘more’ is better too. I felt like I might break out in welts from sheer anxiety. The world within him, and the world as he sees it. It also made her feel like an imposter.

Although Dorothy turns back for the time being, powerful forces have been set in motion in her life. The psychological concept of the Shadow archetype is a useful metaphor for understanding villians and antagonists in our stories, as well as grasping the unexpressed, ignored, or deeply hidden aspects of our heroes. They didn’t smoke, or drink, or (if the movie Footloose was to be believed) dance. We point to well-intentioned social programs like battered women’s shelters and “dress-for-success” nonprofit organizations that help women get out from under abuse and wonder, why didn’t she seek

Cooper waited at the front door. The Fossah looked at Katook but was silent.

“I’m not!”

Monte Carson laid the three telegraph forms on his desk, his eyes fixed beyond the open door to the sheriff’s office in Big Rock, Colorado.

“I left Vinnie alone in my apartment for a few hours, and he was wearing my panties when I came home. Your arms were crossed over your chest, you had this terrifying scowl on your face… How many times you manage to fertilize an egg?”

Some days are decidedly less peaceful. Silvio Menzano was married in a private legal ceremony in Vermont in September 2009. Brighten up your garden with these colorful, hand-crafted stakes, an arresting combination of fiery, light-capturing glass and warm, smooth stone. To create a garden that emphasized symmetry and geometry, Webster began with a central water feature.

Even the best fall down sometimes. Guest blogger Shiloh Walker and Other Monsters Under the Bed. Reggie Jackson famously said “Blind men come to the park just to hear him pitch.” Welcome back Stephanie Newton.

She had never been more embarrassed, felt more rejected, not even when Wilson had left her at the altar. Someone poked her back and she whipped around startled. A slender, stylishly dressed blonde woman opened the door.

It was two hours until dawn, the bulk of my evening having been taken up by Ethan, Nick, and my father, so I took the opportunity to give the library the perusal of a former researcher. “Hello.”

“Good.”

Maybe she was crazy.

She could never focus on it, though; never place the memory. “It does not matter anyway, does it?” she said.

“No need to run little man,” one of the rogues taunted, his voice scrapping like gravel. It took time and effort to shape an effective medical team, and there would be a certain attrition rate. Oh, no, she didn’t want to fall asleep, as welcome as it might have been.

Today they will find her body. Or she has already left for work, but is running late. A.J. Sutherland was captivated by the stallion the first moment she saw him. Everyone else just took up space.

****

So, readers (and co-writers!), what do you think? We’ll get back to writing next week if you’d like or are you ready to put this story to bed?

Well, we’ll give this another week and see if y’all are still having fun with it. Let’s go back to our current reads. On page 150, last full sentence on the page. I’m reading on Kin so for those of you reading on ereaders, put down the last full sentence of the page that opens. From Linda Winstead Jones’s DESPERADO’S GOLD:

She had never been more embarrassed, felt more rejected, not even when Wilson had left her at the alter.

Ready…set…GO!

(Just a reminder…this is your last chance to win an ARC of FAERIE FIRE. Simply leave a comment at Sky’s Blog.)

Hey, guys! It’s Wednesday again. Yayayayay! Silver has been sent on errands and I have the blog to myself today. This is Senator Patrick O’Connor and his long-time friend (like from college days, even), Allen Steele. Both are from Boston originally and both from upper-crust families. Allen’s family could have been a member of the “Boston Brahmins” but Patrick, being Catholic, had different roots, though just as deep.

This scene made it quite a ways through the editing process but Silver’s Ms. Editor 1.0 asked it be cut for a variety of reasons. This version is from an early draft. I liked this scene so don’t blame my scissors! I chopped other things–especially where Deirdre was concerned. *bwahaha* So, grab something to drink, and look behind the scenes of FAERIE FIRE.

Allen poured brandy into crystal snifters, swirling the amber liquid around and around as he presented one to the senator. Easing into a wide leather chair, he took a sip, savoring the fiery trail the liquor left in its wake. He stretched out his legs and settled back, glancing over at the man occupying the matching chair on the other side of the fireplace. A small fire crackled in the grate, more for effect than warmth. Allen loved this room. He’d insisted that the paneling be lightly pickled rather than darkly stained like the rest of the house. Navajo rugs spun bright patterns across the floor. The suede-covered armchairs were the color of the Arizona desert.

Allen’s private study was an enigma. Its American Southwest décor was at complete odds with the rest of the huge house but Allen didn’t care. He liked this room and was comfortable in it. In fact, he’d chosen the furnishings and rugs himself. He glanced over at his companion again. The conversation he had to initiate wasn’t one he preferred to hold at this time, but he felt like he was caught between a rock and hard spot. He had business interests in Northern Ireland.

“We’ve been friends since college, Patrick.”

Patrick placed his brandy on the twisted twig table next to his chair. “Allen.” His voice was tinged with disappointment as he interrupted the other man. “You have more money than Midas. What do you need with a man like Bradford Williams?”

“He’s a business associate, Paddy, and has been for years. He helped me make a lot of that money you just mentioned.”

Patrick stared, his expression concerned. “Is that what this is all about? Money?”

Allen took another sip, rolling the brandy over his tongue a few seconds before swallowing. “Why are you being so pig-headed about this, Paddy? I know you’ve lost no love on the British.”

“Since when have you taken up the banner of terrorists, Allen?” Patrick’s anger radiated in his tone. “Haven’t you figured it out yet? The IRA is not a bunch of patriots trying to save their country from tyranny. Oh, they’d like you to believe they’ve modeled themselves on the founding fathers here in America. That they’re fighting a revolution every bit as important as our own. For God’s sake, Allen, remember your history. Washington’s army didn’t slaughter innocent civilians.” He paused to stare at his friend. “Allen, these people are terrorists. They don’t care who might get hurt by their bombs. They think nothing of putting the lives of women and children in jeopardy. In fact, the more innocent civilians they murder, the bigger the headlines. Why can’t you understand that Northern Ireland is just the Middle East come home to roost?”

Allen set his snifter down and leaned toward the other man, his gaze hot and fervent. “You’re a Catholic, Patrick, and there are Protestant groups in Ireland that have done the same.”

Patrick met this declaration with a sad shrug. “That doesn’t make it right, Allen. Catholic. Protestant. Jew. Muslim. It doesn’t make it right. The murder of innocents cannot be condoned.”

Allen was not about to drop the subject. He continued earnestly. “Do you think Britain should continue its rule of Northern Ireland?”

The senator pondered the question a long moment before speaking. “If the alternative is turning over Northern Ireland to any terrorist group, Catholic or Protestant, then yes. Britain should retain control.”

“Then you will vote against the Senate resolution?”

“I will.”

Now me? I’m not much into old guys. Silver is. She likes Sean Connery and Sam Elliott and other guys who have gray in their hair. But…I kinda like Patrick and Allen. What about you guys? And don’t forget your chance to win an ARC of FAERIE FIRE. Go to Sky Purington’s Blog and leave a comment. Tell Silver what you love about a Celtic hero!

Believe it or not, I actually will be working as you read this, despite the fact that I’m running all over. The errands are mostly work related–well, RWA related, anyway. Here’s a few more updates.

We have a guest blogger, author Sky Purington, this Friday, so Friday Flash will be moved to Thursday! I have to admit I’m very curious where this story is going. I know I promised two character interviews this week, so I’ll just have to combine them tomorrow. I’m over at HAPPY ENDINGS today blogging about conferences. Yeah, I know. Not really inspired writing but it was the best I could do with time ticking.

As of the time I’m writing this, I have about 100 pages left to polish and revise on SOTW. I’m dragging my feet. REALLY dragging my feet. I mean, like…beyond doing laundry and going to Walmart dragging my feet. *sigh* I’m not quite sure why, other than I’m in a weird headspace of late. It seems like for every step I take forward, I slide back three or four. It’s all mental–my insecurities surging to the forefront, I fear. FAERIE FATE seems to be doing okay sales-wise, though I won’t really know for sure until royalty statements come later in the year. I worry SOTW won’t cut it, even after these revisions and polish, but I think as an author, we all feel that way about our work. I love FAERIE FIRE and hope it does well–and I think it will. FAIRY TALES was fun to write and I look forward to it’s debut, too.

I just…I’m not finding joy in my writing at the moment. It’s seems like a labor, and not one of love. I don’t feel the creative spark clicking inside. I’m like that butane grill lighter that got wet. You click and there’s a tiny spark but not enough to catch fire. So you click and you click and you click and end up with nothing but frustration. I should note that Iffy is standing in the corner sticking her tongue out at me. She’s here and brimming with ideas, but waiting until I finish revisions/edits. I need an infusion–some sort of spark to ignite my passion again. In the meantime, I’m simply too stubborn to give up so I keep scrolling through the pages, fixing here, tightening there, expanding when it needs it, cutting extraneous lines/paragraphs/scenes when necessary.

Maybe I just need to throw myself a good ol’ fashioned pity party….Ha! I now need to go off in search of an icon for a pity party! While I’m doing that, y’all tell me what’s got you down these days? We can call commiserate with each other.

Welcome to chapter three, folks. Last weeks twist was a lot of fun. I’m busy thinking up another twist but for now, we’ll go back to our old standby–the closest book to your computer. Page 132. The third complete sentence at the top of the page.

From Debra Webb’s EVERYWHERE SHE TURNS: She’d been through this before.

Start throwing those lines out there, peeps! And check back after lunch. I’ll have a second assignment up. Oh! Ereaders. Open to your current page and the 3rd complete sentence for you, too!

For anyone just dropping by, we’re writing a story this summer using one assigned sentence from an assigned page of the book nearest our computer. Each week is a “chapter”. On Mondays I post all the lines to make paragraphs and move the story along. At the end of the summer, I’ll post all of the “chapters” for the full story.

Don’t forget tomorrow is Saturday Brunch’s Mr. Summer contest. Be sure to drop by and cast your vote to choose this week’s winner. Thank goodness it’s Friday! Now where did I put that pitcher of margaritas?