Tracy St. John's Blog, page 213

WIP Wednesday – Alien Redemption (Clans of Kalquor 6)

First draft is now underway!  The clan you readers helped create, along with Earther Rachel Hicks from Alien Interludes’ ‘Prelude to Redemption’, haa begun their adventure.  Rachel has come to Kalquor to begin a new life.  A patient in the Matara’s psychiatric wing of Kalquor’s biggest hospital, she’s been undergoing therapy with her primary therapist, Imdiko Conyod.
She swallowed hard, trying to get the lump clogging her throat down so she could give Conyod that stupid word that wouldn’t come.  Her fists twisted in her lap, wrinkling the soft white hospital gown that showed so brilliantly against her mahogany skin.  Almost all the scars were gone, thanks to a brilliant team of surgeons who’d erased the marks of torture from her flesh.  Too bad Conyod couldn’t wield a scalpel that would excise the scars from her soul as easily.She looked into his grape-hued eyes, trying to soak in the strength he projected towards her.  His wavy, black hair tumbled forward as he leaned in, close enough that she could have stolen a kiss if she’d wanted.Well, she wanted, all right.  But it would hardly be proper, and Conyod would no doubt be horrified if she dared.  That he had oceans of compassion, she did not doubt.  But sympathy and a drive to heal the wounded didn’t translate into lust for a broken down Earther who couldn’t even say ‘hello’.He tossed the waist-length waves back with a quick jerk of his head.  “Relax, Ray-Ray,” he coached her.  “The more tense you get, the harder it is.  Calm yourself and try.”His hands moved to her shoulders, and Rachel wallowed in their warmth as he kneaded the stiff muscles.  Heaven and earth, she loved it when he touched her.  His hands were square and solid with strength.  She closed her eyes to concentrate on the sensation, though it was surely a sin to shut Conyod’s face out.  Made herself take a couple of deep breaths.  Opened her eyes to his slight encouraging smile and opened her mouth.The word was right there, flashing neon-bright in her head.  It traveled down, moving towards her mouth.  Coming, coming, almost there.  Then it ran into the roadblock of knotted tightness that refused to budge.  It was right there, and she couldn’t get it out!  Tears of frustration spilled down her cheeks.

Tutorial Tuesday –The Second Draft: Shaping Up

All right, you’ve written your story, getting it all down from start to finish.  If you approached it the way I suggested in last week’s tutorial, you have something of a mess on your hands.  Bad sentence structure, typos, ideas that ended up going nowhere, an abrupt change (or two) in the storyline … yeah, you have some work to do.  Fortunately, whipping this thing into shape is easier than it looks.  
This is where you will bring your book into focus.  Welcome to the second draft.
Hopefully you took some time away between the two drafts to give your brain a chance to re-set.  The more unfamiliar your first draft looks, the better you’ll pick up on what doesn’t work.  This is where you fix everything that’s wrong with your story.
There are two ways to get started on your second draft.  The first involves reading your first draft through before making changes and taking notes on what alterations are required; what, if any, additional scenes need to be added, what needs clarifying, etc.  The second option is to dive right in, reading and making those changes as you go.  Whatever works best for you is your call.

Where’s the Beef?
You’ll notice spots where the book reads ‘thin’.  You glossed over a few important points, or perhaps you didn’t explain everything as well as it should have been.  The story jumps and jerks from point A to point C, skipping over point B entirely.  Maybe there are even gaping holes in the storyline.  It’s time to fill all that in.  And once you get those pieces in, you might have to go over and over them several times to make them flow with the rest of the story.  That’s fine.  Take all the time you need to build your creation.
Even where there’s plenty of meat on this dish, double check to make sure you’ve got everything you need.  Do you have enough description to put the reader in the story?  Did you miss key points of dialogue?  Would a lengthy flashback better explain how the characters got to the point where they are?  Pile the flesh on that skeleton at where needed.  Fill it out.

Burn Off the Fat
You may also find you have to cut here and there.  If you’ve already explained once in your story how Jack and Jill were bosom pals from nursery school, you don’t have to tell your readers that ever again.  I know, you’re thinking, “But I want to make sure the readers really GOT that.  Maybe they missed it the first time.”  Trust me, you can scuttle all but one passage of explanation.  Your readers are smart enough to get it the first time.  As a reader, if I’m told something that belabors the same point over and over, I feel like the writer is insulting my intelligence.  I get pissed and stop reading.  
Now there’s no problem in telling readers several different specific instances related to Jack and Jill’s journey through life together, so long as it furthers the story.   Just don’t repeat the same exact blurb of information over and over.
 Also cut out any decorous flab.  Just because a passage is pretty doesn’t mean it should remain in your book.  If it doesn’t further the story, it needs to go.  You don’t want a blob of a book any more than you want a skeleton.  You want a lean, muscular novel that reads strong and powerful without an ounce of fat.

Bring the Story Together
Did your story suddenly veer off in another direction from the one you initially planned?  If so, you may have to rework the beginning of your book.  Foreshadowing, a little backstory to set later events up properly, re-casting characters; all this has to be done now to turn it into a harmonious whole.   While you may have worried about having to completely re-write the beginning of the book to match it to the end, I think you’ll find this is usually not the case.  A hint here or there, maybe a new scene or two, changing a bit of dialogue and refocusing the action to zero in on the new ending is usually all that’s required.   It’s kind of like dying a pair of generic white shoes you already have to match a specific dress.  You’ll probably get to keep your foundation; just a little change in the architecture will be required in most instances.

Aiming for Perfection
Now is also the time to spend effort on getting the words just right.  Think about the scene you’re working on, the mood you want to impart.  You want words, phrases, and imagery that precisely denote that tone.  
An example:  are the circumstances in your scene dangerous?  You can let the weather flavor some of that.  Have the sun beat down mercilessly.  Have rain lash against the window as if intent on coming in and beating senseless those huddled within.  Have snow send daggers of ice against vulnerable skin.  Also use action words like brutalize, rend, savage, shred.  Have people wail, rage, and drip venom with their dialogue.   Make every word count in building the ambiance of the scene.
And please don’t try to impress everyone with your immense vocabulary.  If your readers need a dictionary on hand to decipher your work, guess what?  They won’t read it.  If you write fiction, you’re looking to entertain, not instruct.  Don’t make it laborious on your readers.

This is the time to write the book you’d want to read.  As you tame this beast, keep firmly in mind that this is how your readers will remember you.  Hone your story to a precision point.  And once you’ve finished doing this, take another week or so off to let it settle again.
You’re almost there.  The worst is over, and the finish line is in sight.  You can breathe a sigh of relief as you ready for the final push to complete your novel.

Monday Man Time

This first cutie pie was my inspiration for Vax.  Lindsey, you're a lucky, lucky girl.








Yep, gonna be a good day now.

Six Sentence Sunday – Netherworld III: Once Bitten Twice Dead (WIP)

Tristan flipped his phone closed.  “Para Patrol is on their way.  When I get my hands on the son of a bitch who did this—”              His glamour disappeared, revealing the vampire he was underneath that elegant show he put on for the public.  Tristan’s handsome face thinned, his eyes turned to black holes rimmed with fire, and his fangs flashed like pearl daggers.  He became chillingly beautiful, the way an agitated cobra is.  
Coming late summer/early fall

The History of Kalquor, Part 4

(Part 1)(Part 2)(Part 3)
The Virus
                A few centuries ago, a virus spread through Kalquor’s population like wildfire, devastating the people of that planet.                Patient Zero, the first victim that originated the outbreak, was a young Matara mountain climber named Togrynt.  Along with friends, she’d visited a small moon within the Empire, known for its challenging peaks.  While there, she was bitten by a small mammalian creature called a lubury.  As this was not an animal known for aggression, it was agreed it must have been sick with some disease.  Togrynt was brought home to Kalquor and quarantined, along with her fellow climbers and the carcass of the lubury, which a member of the climbing party had killed.                The infection carried by the lubury was not one Kalquorian doctors had ever seen before.  In Togrynt’s system, it mutated.  All of the young woman’s organs, including those of her reproductive system, hemorrhaged.   She was dead a week after contracting the virus.  The last of her companions on that ill-fated trip died five days later.                Despite all precautions, the virus escaped the confines of the hospital and laboratories.  By the time it ran its full course, nearly forty percent of all men and over sixty-seven percent of the female population were dead from it.  Every single Kalquorian on the home planet and many of the colonies was infected, though not all victims suffered the deadly hemorrhaging.  However, everyone showed some sort of damage from their exposure, especially the women.                  Because the virus caused anomalies to the X-chromosomes, the most devastating effects showed up in the female population.  Of the survivors of the virus, over seventy percent of the women were rendered infertile.  In succeeding generations, daughters born to those who could still conceive were not guaranteed fertility; indeed, the majority was not.  It didn’t help that Kalquorian women ovulated only once a year.                Even those few who had remained away during the virus’ outbreak could not counteract the effects once it was safe for them to return home.  There were simply too few unaffected Kalquorians left.  The small infusion of still-intact original DNA only delayed the inevitable end.                Between the virus’ initial destruction and the following decline in births, Kalquor’s population dropped precipitously.  As fewer and fewer viable childbearers were available, the men began to compete more and more aggressively for mates.
The Clan System
                As noted in previous installments of Kalquor’s history, polyamorous unions were not uncommon on Kalquor.  So long as all participants were accepting, a single household could consist of any number of men and women.  Most such family groupings were quite small however.  Rarely would one find a mating group of more than three members, though it was not unheard of for there to be groupings of four or even five.                But as the number of women declined, many men became possessive.  Public fights, duels, and killings were on the increase as each man attempted to keep a fertile mate all to himself.                After a riot ended with a quarter of the capital city’s underground market area on fire, then-Emperor Relor and the Imperial Council issued a decree:  family groupings would now consist of a male from each breed.  These clans of three men would establish themselves as responsible and capable of offering comfortable, stable households for potential Mataras and the children they would bear.                  Relor was elderly and near the end of his reign, so it was left to his son Crown Prince Shev to show the way.  He clanned with two longtime friends Nobek Mekyi and Imdiko Hartob.  The group then chose Matara Dalic for their female mate, and she accepted their proposal.                  Upon Relor’s death, the first Imperial Clan ascended to the collective throne.  While Relor had intended Shev’s clanmates to be only advisors to him as had been the tradition for the best suited members of the Imperial Family, Relor felt it best for the entire clan to share in the prestige (and many headaches) of rulership.  The Council agreed, as did the battered and weary populace of Kalquor.  With four monarchs ruling, the sudden death of one would not throw the Empire into confusion, as had happened in the past.                But even with the establishment of the clan family, Kalquor’s population continued to decrease until extinction loomed on the horizon.  All scientific efforts to reverse the effects of the virus failed.  The very DNA of Kalquorians had been altered.  It seemed the mighty Kalquorian Empire would be felled; not from war or an enemy takeover, but by a small, unseen foe.  A mere virus.                In the final decade of the rule of Emperor Zarl’s clan, less than one hundred births occurred on all of Kalquor.  Of the forty-three female infants born, only twelve lived past their first week.  The rest died of the severe chromosomal deformities that continued to plague that gender.                  Kalquor might have given up all hope of its survival but for the miracle of a second chance that suddenly presented itself.                The indigenous people would still soon be extinct, but a new race had wandered into the boundaries of the Galactic Council of Planets.  They were in search of a planet to colonize, one that would lessen the burden of a huge population on their homeworld.  They were a suspicious lot and known for an almost fanatical adherence to a strict religion.  Still, most member planets welcomed these explorers from a tiny world in a distant galaxy.  Because these newcomers so closely resembled the doomed Kalquorians, all the Empire’s allies hoped the culture, if not the race itself, could be saved.  That perhaps the two species would be compatible enough to breed a hybrid race that would continue the wonderfully intelligent and yet still primal Kalquorian code that had benefitted so many others.                That other world which offered Kalquor a new beginning was none other than Earth.  And you know how the rest of the story goes.

Netherworld II: Blood Potion No. 9 is Out!

Pick it up from Smashwords or New Concepts Publishing!

Dead escort Brandilynn Payson goes undercover with a shape shifting motorcycle gang: Beauty, meet the Beasts.

Brandilynn has more or less settled into her ghostly existence after dying. She's getting a little bored with the afterlife, so when vampire boyfriend Tristan Keith sends her on an assignment to spy on the shape shifting motorcycle gang The Beasts, she's raring to go. She finds more than she bargained for....

A plot to kill vampires and humans alike by the murderous leaders of the gang, not to mention a sexy werewolf undercover agent that shakes up her already crowded relationships with Tristan and ghost boyfriend Dan Saling. Juggling three paranormal hunks and racing to prevent genocide is a tough job, and Brandilynn handles it with characteristic good intentions. It's just too bad that good deeds don't always go the way she planned.

Length: Mid-Novel
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Rating: Carnal/Erotica. Mild BDSM, Multiple Sex Partners


Sequel to Netherworld:  Drop Dead Sexy




I was out of time.  The other Beasts mounted their motorcycles and they roared to life.  I ran over to the closest one and grabbed on.  The power flowed into my body, and the bike shut down.Another biker, his bear aspect making him a shaggy creature, laughed at my hapless victim.  “Problems, bro?”  He kept laughing until I killed his bike too.The world around me was coming into hypersharp focus.  I was getting high off the excess power I was drawing, and there were close to thirty motorcycles to disable.  My body tingling in reaction, I hit a third.As it sputtered, its werehog rider banged a frustrated cloven fist on the gas tank.  “What the hell?  Someone been messing with our bikes?”I shut him down, and it felt like every hair on my body stood at attention.  My eyes felt wide enough to fall out of my head.  The werehog, bigger and not as butt ugly as C.K. (but certainly not pretty), sat on his dead machine and stared at me.He shouted to the rest, “Holy shit, look at the ghost bitch!  She’s fucking with us!”Bitch indeed.  That was no way to talk to a lady.Now that they knew what the problem was, the other bikers, the ones with the still-running engines, were starting to pull out.  They’d be out of the gate within seconds, chasing after C.K.  The gate.  Aha!The hog was cussing me.  “You hateful crotch!  No one screws with my bike!”I grinned at him, energy snapping through me.  “You can see me?  Well check this out.”  I flipped him and his two buddies off.  Now cussing is for the illbred and I acknowledge waving the middle finger around is a form of cussing, but some things just have to be said.Leaving them with their mouths hanging open, I zapped off and materialized at the little box that required a passcode to get into the storage space.  The power box was right there too.  The other Beasts were approaching the closed gate and would trip it open at any moment.  Pulling the energy coursing through me into both hands, I reached into the two metallic boxes.  Then I let enough power back into my fingers to dig at wires and circuitry.  No, I had a better idea.  I fed them some of the energy that was making me dance in place like I needed to find the ladies room toot-sweet.  There was a spark, and a sizzle, and a bit of smoke.  I caught a backwash of power and nearly backflipped with exuberant energy.  Woohoo!The blatting motorcycles drew to a stop on the other side of the now nonfunctioning gate.  I did a crazy little victory dance for the benefit of the staring and trapped shifters.  Oh sure, they could climb over the gate, but their bikes couldn’t.  Game, set, and match to Brandilynn.  I laughed and stuck my tongue out of them, shaking what my momma gave me.  Okay, maybe rubbing their snouts in defeat was a little much, but remember I was jacked up and high as a kite just then.  I think I can be excused for my poor sportsmanship.“So long, boys!” I shouted at the snarling shifters, who were fighting to get the disabled gate open.  “I’m gonna do some hog hunting now!”Their curses and shaking fists let me know that they heard and saw me just fine.  Being visible gave my hectic brain an idea to help Bane out of the jam he was in, and I was raring to go.  So I went … straight to the hood of Bottle’s car.I arrived planted on all fours in the middle of the Chevy’s hood as it clattered down 341 near the industrial section.  You should have seen Bottle and C.K.’s faces as I glared through the windshield at them, even before I yelled, “BOO!”  Bugging eyes and round, manhole mouths.  I swear to you, C.K. screamed louder and higher than his girlfriend, his cloven hands thrust out to ward me off.  Bottle let go of the steering wheel to grab the sides of her head, and the car squalled as she hit the brakes hard.  Priceless.Then the car swerved out from under me, and I popped over to the side of the road to watch it jump the curb.  Bottle had rolled up her window, and I heard it when her head thunked against it.  Ouch.  The car came to rest a few feet from train tracks and stalled out.Forget PIT maneuvers and spike strips.  All you need is a seriously amped-up ghost as a hood ornament and the bad guys stop.Neither passenger moved, and I materialized by the driver’s side to check the situation out.  Boy, I hoped I hadn’t killed Bottle.  C.K. – meh.Bottle was breathing but out cold.  C.K. shook his head, clearing the cobwebs.  A rivulet of blood ran down the side of his jowly face.  “Ha ha, tag, you’re it,” I called.His nearsighted eyes swung over to me and squinted, trying to make me out more clearly.  He bared his yellowed tusks, and I offered a big, theatric yawn.  I’m already dead.  Whatchoo gonna do, Pig Boy?What he did was lean over Bottle, throw the car door open, and shove her out onto the ground at my feet.   “Stay out of my way, bitch,” he snorted to me as he slid over to take her place behind the wheel.  Yeah, he was a real winner to take home to Mom.  He tried to start the car back up.  It ground to life, but when C.K. jammed the transmission into reverse, neverminding his girlfriend who would get run over if he followed that course, something under the car screeched.  The car shut off again without moving a bit.  I blew C.K. a raspberry.He tore out of the car to scream in my face.  His was as red as a beet.  “Fucking ghost!  You think you can fuck with me?  I’ll take his ass out now!”

Countdown to Netherworld II: Blood Potion No. 9 - Excerpt 3

Scheduled to release today! 


It was near dark when I showed up at Bane’s trailer, materializing in the living room.  A thrill of terror raced down my spine to see no sign of Fizz or the werewolf agent.  I quickly went down the hall, passing a bedroom filled with exercise equipment, and a utilitarian bathroom.  The last door, the one to Bane’s bedroom was closed, and light filtered out from beneath it.I stepped into the master bedroom, spartanly furnished with a bed, dresser, and nightstand which had all been new in the 1980’s.  Pressboard chic, no less.  A laptop was the dresser’s lone accessory, the nightstand a little more lavish with an alarm clock and ring of keys.Fizz’s baby doll tee and breath-inhibiting jeans were a pile on the tan-carpeted floor.  Fizz herself was laid out on the bed, clad in pink nylon bra and panties.  Bane stretched out next to her, propped up on one elbow.  Eye popping in bare-chested glory, the crotch of his jeans livid with erection, he trailed fingertips over Fizz’s bare midriff.  “Wake up, Brandilynn,” he whispered, his golden eyes molten.  “Wake up, little girl.”Resolutely ignoring the surge of heat I felt looking at the agent (and how delicious it would have been to open my eyes to see that looming over me), I parked my hands on my hips and spat, “I don’t think so, you mangy mutt.”I wished I had a rolled-up newspaper to pop him on the nose with.  Some guys will accept a ‘no’ in the present, hoping it would change to ‘yes’ in a future setting if they kept pushing the issue.  Bane was apparently one of those.I settled in to wait and watch.  It was only a few minutes later that Fizz’s eyelids fluttered open.  She blinked slowly a few times, taking in her surroundings and the hopeful shifter watching her carefully.  I had to laugh when she screeched in his face.“What?  You!  Cop!”  She rolled over, a windmill of skinny arms and legs before she hit the floor running.Bane lunged after her.  “Oh shit, Fizz, wait!”She shrieked as his fingers slid across her back.  “Get off me!  I ain’t going down for you, Bane!  They ain’t killing me over you and that dead girl!”She scrambled free of him and took off down the hall.  Still laughing, I transported into the living room, slipping into Fizz before she could get out the front door.  I turned to face Bane as he barreled after.  Not realizing Fizz’s body had stopped and now waited for him, his momentum carried him nicely into my swinging fist.  I got him square in the mouth, spreading his lips in a funhouse grin.  It didn’t drop him, but it did stop him cold in his tracks.I could feel Fizz’s shock to find herself usurped again, followed by a surge of mean delight as a few drops of blood welled from Bane’s lower lip.  We were on the same page as far as putting the agent in his place, though for different reasons.I folded skinny arms over a nearly flat chest.  “Now that I have your attention, what do you think you’re doing waiting for me to show up in your bed?”  Bane stood over me in shock, rubbing his busted lip.  “Brandilynn?”“No, dog breath, it’s Zsa Zsa Gabor.  I told you, I have a boyfriend!”  I yelled, uncaring if he had a spy outside or even hiding in his fridge.  Then I slapped him for good measure.He growled, the sound slipping between lengthening canines.  I stepped close and growled back.“What, are you going to try to scare me into sex?  Force me with threats?  Is that the kind of man you are?”Bane’s eyes widened, and he took a step back, raising his hands in surrender.  “Okay, okay, I was just mad you slapped me.  I’ve got the hint.  Sorry.”  He had the grace to flush with embarrassment.I tapped my bare foot on the nubby carpet.  “You’d really be sorry if I’d hit you in my old body.  It was a lot stronger than this one.”  I ramped up my anger, determined to make sure he would stop chasing me.  “And if you try anything else, the next hint will be a baseball bat upside your stupid head!”  He scowled at me, his ears flattening to his skull.  “I said I was sorry.  I will never try to seduce you again.”“You’d better not, jerk.”  I stormed past him, returning to the bedroom to yank Fizz’s horrible clothes on.  It seemed to take forever to struggle into those ridiculously tight jeans.When I turned around, Bane was in the doorway, watching me.  He didn’t say anything untoward or make a move, but the bulge in his pants told me his interest in me hadn’t waned one bit.Too bad.  With the memory of Tristan and Dan’s pained expressions as I’d taken punishment still fresh in my mind, I found it almost easy to dismiss the handsome were.  To distract him I asked, “When is Fizz due for work?”Those golden eyes drank me in, and his rumbling voice trembled my bones.  “About forty-five minutes.  I’ll take you on my bike.”Fizz’s stomach chose that moment to announce its emptiness.  And her head felt heavy with the continued effects of the drug.  “We’d better hit some fast food and coffee.  I’m feeling all sludgy and starved here.  Spot me five bucks on that?”  It wasn’t really a request.  In my opinion Bane owed me for his attempt to get me in yet another compromising position.His slow smile, all the more devastating for its bad wolf image because of the swollen lip, made me uncomfortable.  “Sure.”I pushed past him, trying not to notice the admiration in his voice and eyes.  If I didn’t know better, I’d swear he was more interested in me than ever.  For my part, I was determined to not get gooey over Bane again, no matter how darned good he looked shirtless and wearing that pirate’s grin.

Countdown to Netherworld II: Blood Potion No. 9 - Excerpt 2

So here I was, kneeling on the wood floor of the library at their feet naked, my hands bound behind me and a ball gag shoved in my mouth.  I kept my head bowed down subserviently as I waited to find out what sentence Tristan had decided upon.  I prayed that whatever it was, it would be enough for Dan to feel we could start over. I watched one of Dan’s loafered feet tap impatiently in front of me.  “I’m angry all right.  So what does that mean?  We don’t discipline her for misbehavior?”“Think about it, Dan.  Can you trust yourself not to lose control right now?”I heard real heat in Dan’s voice.  “It’s low to wave that in my face.”He was referring to the desperate, panicked anger that had made him take the life of a crooked IRS agent who was looking to blackmail him.  Dan had died in prison while serving a life sentence.  The fear of losing everything; his wife, children, home, and business had driven him to do the unthinkable.  His uncharacteristic actions haunted him to this day.Tristan’s tone stayed even.  “I’m not waving anything in your face.  It’s a valid concern.  If I laid my hands on her right now I’d not just hurt her, I’d damage our relationship.  I’m that angry.”My heart was heavy to hear him say that.  Nothing hurts a sub worse than her Dom’s disappointment.  I really deserved whatever punishment he had decided on.  Not to mention I couldn’t seem to curb my fascination with Bane.  Maybe a good round of harsh discipline would cure that.Dan sighed.  “Okay.  So what do we do with her then?”“We leave it to others to punish her, those who can be subjective about it.”I started.  He was going to have another Dom reprimand me?  I swallowed hard against the gag.  Someone with no emotional involvement could be a harsh taskmaster.  Maybe Tristan had a sadist in mind.  I turned cold.  Light pain was one thing, but I’m not really a masochist.  Dan’s tone echoed my worried thoughts.  “Like who?”“Grab on and come with me.”  Tristan grasped my shoulder, and after a moment’s hesitation, so did Dan.  The pant legs and shoes before me smeared as we started our transport, and I closed my eyes, afraid of where Tristan would take me.I heard rather than felt our arrival.  I smelled sweat, cologne, leather and sex.  The familiar sounds of club music, things hitting flesh, and eager moans and sighs popped my eyes wide open.  We were at a BDSM club.Well, there were certainly worse places to end up.  Warm fuzzies tumbled in my belly to see a gleaming bar area tended by a bulldoggish man in black leather with Doms and Dommes lined up, sipping drinks and exchanging comfortable conversation.  Subs knelt at their feet, many wearing collars and little else.  Some were on leashes.  Still more people sat around tables.  Everyone had that ghostly sense of otherness, that insubstantiality that souls possess even though we appear solid to one another.Dan’s voice was hushed with shock.  “Good night.”I dared to peek up at him, and saw he stared at something behind me.  I cautiously turned my head to have a glance at what had caught his attention.Ah, the play area.My lower parts really heated up to see several scenes acted out under bright spotlights.  A naked sub was spread out on a St. Andrews Cross, her buttocks and thighs wearing the stripes of the expertly wielded whip flicked by a bare-chested Dom.  As I watched, the whip snapped her rear, and she moaned with trembling delight.  She strained to push her hips back, begging for more.  Next to them, a male sub was strapped to what looked like a padded sawhorse.  His Domme, gorgeous in a rubber suit that looked like black liquid, paddled him thoroughly while pumping his cock in one tight fist.  Through his sobs I heard him say, “Please Mistress, may I come?” over and over.  She said nothing, just continued to punish and delight as he wept, tears rolling down his strained face.Further over, ropes knotted in what looked like a giant spider’s web snared a plus-sized blond beauty.  Her thighs were twined in the web wide open, leaving her vulnerable to the vibrator her tall, thin Dom pressed to her swollen clit.  She couldn’t beg for release for the ball gag stuffed in her mouth, but her shrieks of agony were plain to hear as the Dom, wearing a cape and leather pants, removed the humming instrument as soon as she neared climax.I would have loved to be any of those subs right now, especially since I knew whatever I was about to endure wouldn’t be nearly as enthralling.It was no surprise to me that a BDSM club existed on the ghost plain.  There was probably a solid version right here on this spot, existing in the mundane reality and entertaining the living version of the kinky underworld.  The kind of emotion that comes from BDSM play is extreme in that so much of the artifice we display to others is stripped away in these places.  Playing out scenes exposes us, subs and Doms alike, in ways that can bring euphoria and agony of an emotional sort, far stronger than what we experience physically.  A solid wall of man approached us, and I dropped my eyes instantly after catching a glimpse of wiry black hair peppered with gray surrounding a craggy dark face with piercing eyes.  This man exuded power, the kind of Dom subs dream of serving and other Doms aspire to be like.  I prayed he wouldn’t be in charge of my punishment.  The thought made me tremble.His voice was strong enough to have weight.  “Tristan!  I haven’t seen you in forever.  How are things out your way?”I sensed them shaking hands.  “It’s been better, Miguel, but I’m glad to see you.  How have you been?”“Wonderful, wonderful.  And your friend?”“Dan Saling.”  More hand shaking.  “He’s new to the scene, but learning quickly.”“Good to meet you, Miguel.”“And you, Dan.  Is training what brings you to Atlanta?”Tristan sighed.  “I wish.  This sub needs punishment, and we’re too emotionally involved to carry it out.  You always get such good results.  Do you have the time?”I squeezed my eyes shut.  I was in so much trouble.  All the arousal I’d gotten from watching others play was gone.“I always have time to correct a disobedient sub.  What’s her weakness?  I have a lovely cane I wouldn’t mind using on such a soft, perfect butt.”“That would be a reward.  She’s a bit of a pain slut.  What she hates is humiliation.”Oh please no.  I moaned.

Countdown to Netherworld II: Blood Potion No. 9 - Excerpt 1

Friday is the day!  Brandilynn, Dan, and Tristan are back with another paranormal adventure.  And we can't forget the introduction of hunky werewolf Bane, the undercover agent who has infiltrated the Beasts motorcycle gang:


            Bottle was still running her mouth when Bane walked in with three other Beast members, calling out gruff hellos as they entered.  The way C.K. scowled let me know big trouble was up.            I acted fast, barely thinking about what I was doing.  I was at Fizz’s side in an instant.  I shoved my way into her, taking over her body.            This was way different from channeling in Isabella’s body.  The channel opens herself, allowing me to sink effortlessly into her head.  In her trance, she’s not really aware of my presence.            This was more like a rape, something I wasn’t proud to do to Fizz.  It’s also considered a huge no-no in the para world, the epitome of bad behavior.  This was an emergency though, so I bullied my way in, seizing control from the stripper, making her body mine.  Inside her head, I felt her shrink away from my alien intelligence in fear and confusion.  She didn’t put up a fight, and I was able to make her body awkwardly rise and hurry to Bane’s side.  She was lighter and much easier to move in than the cuddly bulk of Isabella, but I still felt like I slogged along in mud.  Physical bodies are heavy.   Not to mention her jeans were too freakin’ tight.  I felt like my legs had been straitjacketed.            At least there was no difference between her reality and the spirit world.  Not having to look at two different scenes helped.Bane stood alone, his companions having gone straight to the bar.  He looked at me as I joined him with a kind of resigned irritation.  “Not now, Fizz.”  He started to walk away.I grabbed him by the back of his neck and yanked him close to whisper close to his face.  He was too tall to talk into his pointed wolf ear, which was situated higher on his head than a human’s.   I kept my voice super low, hoping his animal-sensitive hearing would pick up the barely breathed words.  “Shut up and listen to me.  I’m not Fizz; I’m a ghost who has taken over her body.  You’re in big trouble right now, Double-Oh-Seven.”Bane stared down at me, his golden eyes going wide.  His gaze darted around the room, and then he grabbed Fizz’s upper arm to haul our shared body to a quiet cobwebbed corner.  I winced at the tight grip but made no complaint.  I’d already behaved in a very non-property way in grabbing the werewolf.  I didn’t dare look around to see if anyone had noticed Fizz becoming assertive.  Once he had me backed into the corner, Bane growled low and threatening.  “Fizz isn’t smart enough to come up with shit like this.  Who the hell are you?”Sure no one would pickup our whispered conversation, I took advantage of it to warn him.  “Watch the language, buster.  I’m a lady.  Fizz is upset because you won’t give her a ride on Magic Mountain, and now C.K. thinks you’re gay.  Apparently, that’s a big deal in Stupid Land here.”Bane scowled.  “A very big deal.”From his chair, C.K. roared, “Bane, front and center!”The werewolf agent’s lips wrinkled back for an instant, displaying very wicked looking teeth.  “Stay put right here.  I want to talk to you after I settle this.”Well, so much for good manners.  “You’re welcome,” I reminded him.  Not picking up the hint, Bane walked away without thanking me.  After a moment, I followed.  I wasn’t property after all.  That was Fizz’s gig.  Besides, I thought I might be of help if I stuck close.My borrowed heart picked up speed as Levi presented himself to the gang’s leader.“How’s it going, boss?” Bane asked mildly as he drew close to C.K.  Everyone had halted whatever they were doing and crowded close to see what had their little piggy of a boss grouchy.  And grouchy he was with his forehead furrowed, eyes narrowed, and fists clenched.  Next to him, Bottle kneeled with a smirk on her face.No, she’d used up all my sympathy where I was concerned.  If I was a cursing girl, I’d have a few choice names I’d call her.“It’s not so good, Bane.  I hear you’re not happy with Fizz.”  C.K.’s muddy eyes cut to the body I currently occupied.  I felt Fizz shrivel at his angry stare.  I kept her expression as blank as I could.  I swear she tried to hide behind my consciousness.Well, that’s what you get for whining and getting others in trouble.  Though she couldn’t hear the words, I thought she might pick up my mood.  Bane was shrugging.  “She’s okay.  A little lacking upstairs.”  C.K. snorted.  “Yeah, in both boobs and brains.  That ain’t her fault, and pussy is pussy, Bane.”“I’ve been busy.  You know I’m happy getting stuff done for the Beasts.”  The agent sounded respectful without being a whining butt kisser.  I was impressed.C.K. shook his head.  “You’ve been an ace enforcer, man.  But we don’t tolerate queers.”Bane affected righteous indignation, letting a little anger peek through.  “I ain’t queer.  I fucked my first pussy at the age of ten and been fucking it ever since.”Ew.  This conversation got more disgusting by the second.C.K. grinned.  Or maybe it was a snarl.  With that face, it was hard to tell.  “Well, show us, big man.  Plow some pussy right now.”  He gestured at me.Bane turned to grab my arm.  “You’re the boss.  Let’s go, Fizz.”C.K.’s grin/snarl grew.  “No, brother.  Lay the bitch right here.”  He slapped the table in front of him with enough force that it sounded like a shotgun blast.  I jumped.Bane’s cool façade slipped for an instant.  “In front of everyone?”The Beasts’ leader’s voice was as cold as chipped ice.  “Fuck her, Bane.  I want to know if you’re a man or not.”Bane’s eyes met mine.  In them, I read panic.  Oh man, this guy’s morals were getting him in deeper and deeper trouble and taking me with him.            I had a very bad feeling about what this bunch of homophobic creeps might do to Bane if he didn’t perform the deed.  I could come up with only one solution.  Well, it wasn’t my body, and I found the werewolf attractive.  What was the harm?            Decision made, I moved close to Bane.  “Come on, big man.  Show me what you got.”  I gave him a steady look to let him know it was okay.  “I can take it.”Thank goodness Fizz had been wearing stilettos, because she was short and Bane was tall.  I was able to press lips with him.His mouth was tentative on mine, obviously still very unsure about what was going to happen.  I wrapped my arms around his neck and hauled him as close as we could get.  My tongue pushed between his lips to run across those sharp wolf’s teeth.  Hmm.  Half-man, half-beast.  This was actually kind of hot.  I’ve always enjoyed taboo pleasures best.  And hey, if Fizz didn’t mind the threat of picking up Zoo Flu, then why not go for it?

Tutorial Tuesday - Writing Like Your Ass is on Fire: the First Draft

So here you are, ready to dive in and write your book.  You know your characters.  You know your plot.  You've got an outline to tell you where you're going.  It's time.

I describe the writing of my first drafts as 'quick and dirty'.  I'm all about getting in there and banging out the story just as hard and fast as I can go.  Why?  Because at the start, inspiration is at a fever pitch, and I'm not about to waste that heady motivation.  It's sloppy, it's nasty, it's a five-dollar whore moving through customers at light speed.  I'm laying out the bare bones of this beast, building my Frankenstein monster and bringing it to life.

Forget about pretty.  Forget about lyrical passages that are sheer poetry.  Forget finding that absolutely perfect word during the first pass. First drafts aren't about that.  Just get it out.  It's okay if the story is ragged with gaping holes and shredded sentence structure.  I promise you, it will hold together for now. 

You don't want to slow down for anything.  At this critical point if you stop and think too much about what you're doing, you run the chance of losing momentum and bogging down.  Don't worry about perfection quite yet.  That's what the next two (and three or four) drafts are for.  This first draft is the utilitarian foundation of concrete and rebar, the steel girders rising to poke ugly fingers at the sky.  The stunning architecture and stucco facade come later.  So just write.

When you've got that first scene down, move on to the next.  Do not stop at this point to rewrite the first bit you scribbled.  I have a very good reason for this advice.  Going back is a trap, a veritable oubliette waiting to put your story out of sight and mind of ever being seen by the outside world.  I have known far too many would-be authors who wrote the first chapter of their books and followed up with WEEKS of rewriting that first chapter before moving on.  These people usually gave up on that story before getting a quarter of the way through.  Exhausted, dispirited, all motivation sapped from them they walked away, never to write anything ever again. 

Not only can you overwrite the first draft to an early death, you might do all that work only to later find  that the story veers in an unplanned direction.  Thank your bitch of a muse for pulling that trick on you.  Now you have to go back to the beginning to lay the groundwork for your new ending!  If you've already spent weeks on the start of your novel to get it just right, having to do a whole new revamp ranks pretty high on the Suck-O-Meter.  If you'd settled for quick and dirty, you wouldn't have so much invested, so much work to redo. 

And speaking of the story changing in midstream (which happens to me more often than not), if that happens, by all that is holy, do NOT go back and re-write the beginning yet.  Instead, write yourself notes as to what changes must take place during the second draft phase.  After that, crank back up where you left off.  Keep on picking those chapters up and putting them down.  Go, go, go.

Why am I pounding on this point to keep going no matter what?  Because it is so much easier to correct mistakes and polish a completed story than it is to complete a story!  When you have finished that first draft, rife with errors, crappy prose, and continuity problems, you feel on top of the world because at least you have it down.  You have lots more work to do, but by golly the story is there, and you're not fighting to yank it out of your head and splat it onto the computer screen (or notebook if you're old school). 

Once you have reached the magnificent conclusion of your opus, pat yourself on the back because you deserve it.  You have written a book, from start to finish.  Good job. 

Now take at least a week off.  A month if you can contain your enthusiasm and aren't under a deadline.  Let the story percolate in your subconscious while you walk away from it for a bit.  Start outlining your next project while the first draft rests.  Then when you're ready to come back for round two, you'll see it with fresh eyes, catching the things you missed on the first go.

But more on that second draft later.