Joely Sue Burkhart's Blog, page 19

NaNoWriMo 2014 Day 5

My two oldest monsters both needed my laptop last night for school.  Of course they couldn’t use my old/backup laptop That Man uses.  It had to be mine.  So I didn’t get much done after 8 PM, when I can usually scrounge out a few more words and set the next scene.

Luckily/unluckily the scene I’m in is a MAJOR BDSM/sex scene that will take days to get through.  It’s so brutal.  Physically.  Mentally.  Emotionally.  I’m exhausted just thinking about it. But it’s the major candybar/midpoint scene.  Everything from here is a whirlwind of reveals and secrets and spiraling doubts/fears.  Hopefully I can pull it all together.  And no, as much as it kills me, I can’t share any of that scene here.  It will spoil everything if you know too quickly.  

Still managed 2238 words yesterday for a total of 8850.

“You’ve been hiding, denying what you are.  Denying what you need.  So I have to ask, who hurt you, Ranay?”

My fingers convulsed tightly around his but he didn’t complain at how hard I squeezed.  He lifted my hand and lightly kissed my knuckles, and then he placed my hand on his chest over his heart. I fisted my hand in his shirt, but I didn’t try to jerk away from him.  I knew what he was going to do.  I wanted it.  Even though I feared it.

His fingers settled beneath my chin and he tipped my face up to his.

I didn’t even close my eyes, although the intensity of his searching gaze made my chest seize up so hard I was afraid my heart would burst with effort.  It felt like my blood had turned to concrete in my veins, cold and hard and heavy.

“Talk to me,” he whispered, his voice achingly gentle despite the command.  “Tell me what happened.  I need to know so I don’t make the same mistakes.”

I could feel his will reaching into me, stretching out like seeking fingers through my mind.  I blinked rapidly, not fighting the feeling but trying to adjust.  It was like my body temporarily forgot how to function on its own.

“When you give yourself, you give all the way.  You don’t hold anything back.”

I managed to nod a little, still not able to find my voice.  He pulled away enough to get my glass and gently lifted it to my lips so I could take a drink and at last I was able to speak.  “Some men can’t handle that.  It’s too much responsibility.  Too… creepy.”

He narrowed his eyes at my word choice, the first time he’d ever let me see displeasure.  It wasn’t a look I cared to earn again.  “It’s not creepy.  It’s not too much responsibility, either, if the man is dominant enough.”  He lowered his voice and leaned in close enough his nose almost touched mine.  His eyes were searing dark pits, sucking me under.  “And I promise you, Ranay, I’m dominant enough to handle you.”

NaNoWriMo 2014 Day 4

Graphic courtesy of Lynn Viehl.

I made it Dark and Early this morning, “meeting” my friend Diana Castle for some words.  I had over 1,100 words from that session, but lost my lunch to errands.  After work today, I sat in the parking lot waiting on Middle to finish up basketball (it was a looooong wait tonight), and was able to get another chunk.

I’m hoping for a little more tonight but I’m fighting tired eyes.  We’ll see.  I’ll go ahead and update my count now so whatever else I get will be for tomorrow.

1813 words today, 6612 total.

Snippet:

“You give off a confusing vibe, Ranay.  I have to be sure.  I need to know what’s inside your head so I can decide how to proceed.  Do you know where I’m going with this or am I going to make a fool of myself tonight?”

I wrapped my other hand around the glass to make sure I kept my hands to myself.  “I know I’m submissive.”

He let out a low chuckle that made me clench my thighs together.  “That’s not even close to the signals you’re giving me.  Saying you’re submissive is like claiming the weather in Missouri is a little changeable.  Meanwhile one day it’s seventy degrees and I’m running after Sheba without a coat, and the next day I’m shoveling my driveway and cursing the ice.”

NaNoWriMo 2014 Day 3

 

Graphic courtesy of Lynn Viehl.

I had big plans for this week.  I was going to get up Dark & Early at 4:45 a.m. so I could write a good solid hour+ each morning this week.

Then someone monkeyed with the alarm on That Man’s side of the bed (no one has taken credit.  I mean blame).  The first time it went off was around midnight.  It went off again shortly after that.  Then he got a work call at 1 AM.  And another at 4 AM.

Needless to say, I didn’t get up on time today.

However, I didn’t have to drive all over everywhere after school today, and we’re having pizza for dinner, so I had this niiiiiccce long stretch of time to write today, plus my lunch.  I was able to get my total word count up to just under 4800 words!  Woot!

Even better, things are getting really dicey in Charlie’s story.

I always like to share a little when I’m deep in the flow of story, but there’s over 40K story from what I’ve shared here before and what I’m writing now.  Lots and lots of story to choose from that’s not anywhere close to what I wrote today.  Plus there’s a huge reveal that I don’t want to spoil.  So I’ll try to keep the deep dark secrets to a minimum.

He pulled down two wine glasses from the overhead rack and led the way into the living room.  Great, now I had to figure out where to sit on the sectional without being too obvious.  If I sat on the far side of the L, I’d be able to see him from anywhere but it might look like I was afraid of him.  I didn’t want him to think that.  Nor did I want to plop down beside him and give him the impression that I was easy pickings.  I am, but I don’t need him to know it.

I’d rather sit on the floor any day, especially if I could curl against his legs.  But that certainly wasn’t an appropriate first sit-down-and-talk position.  Did other people have such incredibly ridiculous difficulty deciding on something as easy as where to sit?  He sat in the middle of the sectional and set the bottle and glasses on the table in front of him, yet I stood frozen, unable to make a simple decision about where and how to sit.  I tore my gaze away from him and stared at the floor, willing the tears in my eyes to go away.

“I won’t bite,” he said amicably.

I risked a quick glance up at his face, horrified that he might actually think I was afraid.  He winked at me, flashing that disarming dimple, and patted the couch beside him.  And I went to him, relieved and yet even more upset at my own inability to act like a normal human being.  I didn’t say anything while he poured the clear wine into the glasses, barely more than a splash in each.

“I have to drive to the airport so I can’t indulge.  But I can’t resist sharing your first glass of good wine, either.  If you don’t like it, I won’t be offended.”

I took the glass but didn’t sip it yet.  I tried to sit calmly, like I sat and chatted with people all the time.  Not like I was a wreck, waiting for him to tell me what to do.  My stomach was in knots, afraid I’d been wrong about him and yet dreadfully sure I wasn’t.  I wanted his commands more than anything, but I’d tried so hard to pretend that everything was okay, too.

He leaned back and propped his feet on the table, careful not to knock the bottle over.  He wore heavy black motorcycle boots that I found just as intriguing and unexpected as his backyard of cows.  He drove a boring beige Buick.  Thousands of them drove around Springfield every day.  Yet I was pretty sure none of the men inside probably wore heavy black boots with buckles and studs.  It made me wonder what kind of surprises he hid under that black turtleneck.  Tattoos?  Piercings?

Yum.

 

NaNoWriMo 2014

I haven’t visited the site yet to make it official, but I do plan to participate in NaNo this year.  However, I’m already behind, and I don’t have the surplus of vacation from the Evil Day Job as in other years.  The only days I’m currently scheduled to take in Nov. are the week of Thanksgiving.

I like to stay up until midnight after Halloween and get the first day’s words, but it just didn’t work out this year.  Having the first days on the weekend are difficult for me.  That’s when we do all the errands and stuff that we don’t have time to do in the week because of work.  Plus, yesterday we drove to Papa’s for a bonfire.  I did manage to get 519 words in the car on the way, but that’s it.  Today’s laundry and Princess had a party and football, which can make it hard to concentrate.

If I finish the night with a total of 2K for the first 2 days, I’ll be happy.

Then I plan to get up D&E starting tomorrow and keep pushing forward.

Oh, and the story I’m working on?  I guess I’m technically a rebel because this project was already started.  I intend to finish the first draft of Charlie’s story this month.  I already have 40k+ on it, and I think I’ll need another 40K at least.  It’s a long, detailed story with lots of snaky twists and turns.  I already have it thoroughly plotted out, so hopefully it won’t be too bad.

That’s my plan for NaNoWriMo.  Are you participating this year?

An End and A Beginning

This past weekend marked the end of the band season, except for performances at playoff football games.  I’m not actually that happy, because now I’m on morning drop off duty since she doesn’t have to get to school as early (they practiced every morning before school).  So I’m driving just as much, if not more.

Now add to that some good news:  Middle made the junior high basketball team!

When Princess tried out years ago, over 60 tried out and only 18 made it.  Not good odds.  She ended up in band and grateful basketball didn’t work out.  The first day of this year’s tryouts, there were 30 girls, so better odds, but Middle was still really stressed out.  She had nightmares, fever blisters (she gets that from me), and one day she came home in tears.  This is highly unusual.  Middle hardly ever cries.

If she didn’t make the team, she was going to learn that awful miserable lesson that sometimes, no matter how hard you try, no matter how much you want it, you don’t get what you want.  Thankfully she did NOT have to learn that lesson right now.  She made the first cut Wed. when they downed to 20 girls, and the last 20 were good enough that Coach kept them all.

Now begins practice every single day after school at varying locations and times, some Sat. practices (her first practice was this weekend), and of course, the games.  That Man is determined to travel to these games if he can get off, but some of the towns they go to I’ve never heard of.  So we’ll see.

But yay, I’m so happy for her.  We have an athlete in the house!  She just sparkles on the court.  I can’t wait to see her in action!

Good Crockpot Recipe

Wednesday nights are just insane around here.  I usually have to go pick Princess up from writer’s guild after school, and somehow manage to feed the two youngest by 5:15 so they can go to basketball practice (they won’t get home until after 8).  I can’t make anything too spicy or weird because they’re going to be running.

I’d gotten in the (lazy) habit of doing something like fish sticks and tater tots because they’re fast and easy, but not the healthiest.  (Plus I hate that kind of processed crap.)

Then I found this recipe for easy Korean Beef in the crockpot.  What attracted me to this recipe is that it uses hamburger — and even better, you don’t have to brown it first.  My hamburger wasn’t even completely thawed, so I threw it in on high for 1-2 hours first, and then chopped it up and added the rest of the ingredients.  I doubled it, left off the green onions (do any kids like green onions?!?), and used ground ginger rather than fresh.  I cooked it on low the rest of the afternoon and it turned out really well.  I added a package of broccoli slaw for a quick veggie (just cooked it 15 mins or so) and cooked some basmati brown rice.

I loved this recipe.  I could eat it for lunch for days.  Middle wouldn’t even try it.  She’s not big on anything Asian, though I think if she’d tried it, she might have been able to eat it.  She had a sandwich instead.  So I guess I can’t put it on our regular rotation, but it was definitely good enough to mention and I’ll make it for myself!

Privacy and Trust

I like to run giveaways.  I like to shop for just the right prize to celebrate a new release, and then ship it to someone who loves books and presents as much as I do.  I love to mail out ARCs of that freshly printed book with a hand-written note inside.  I collected stuff at RT last year for the sole purpose of mailing out goodies to all of you who love bookmarks and trinkets like that, along with some free books.

I’ve made some incredible online friends and I’ve gotten a thrill from sending packages to the Netherlands, France, Mexico, Germany, Australia, India… you name it.

But in light of privacy concerns arising after Kathleen Hale’s stalking of an online reviewer (I’m not going to give her any traffic via links, but if you want more details, search her name on Twitter), I’m going to be much more careful about running giveaways–especially when I ask for a snail mail address–in the future.

First things first:  I’ve never knowingly misused anyone’s address, whether email or snail.  I’m so careful about contacting people uninvited that I’ve probably missed a bunch of reviews, even if you liked my book in the past, because I don’t want to spam you each time a new book comes out (even if you follow me on Twitter!).  After sending a package in the mail, I often delete the email with your address in it – but not always.  I went through my email this weekend and deleted anything that had “giveaway” and “address” in it to be safe.

Even if I’ve sent a dozen packages to you over the years, I no longer have your address.  If I do have a prize to mail to you, I will ask for your address and then confirm deletion of that address once the prize is shipped.  Of course you have to trust that I’m true to my word, but hopefully you’re not entering my contests and such if you don’t have that trust in me in the first place.

Privacy is important to me.  I have kids that I never mention by their real names.  I have a husband who never claims my author persona on Facebook and many family members who choose not to connect my real life to my author life.  So I value YOUR privacy as much as mine.

I will never share or sell your email address.
I will never add you to my newsletter because you contacted me about something else.
I will never keep your snail mail address and will use it for the sole purpose of sending a giveaway prize to you.
This shouldn’t be required to mention, but I WILL NEVER SHOW UP AT YOUR DOOR UNINVITED.
I will never share your snail mail address with another party, for any reason.
If my email is ever hacked, the only addresses they might easily find is any current snail mail prize waiting to be mailed out.  All other addresses have been deleted to the best of my ability given that I have thousands sent/received in my account.

In the future, expect more gift certificate type giveaways from me and fewer prizes that must be mailed.  I love to mail physical books out (even if it sometimes takes me way too long to get to the post office), but I do understand people’s reluctance to share that information despite my privacy statements.  So I’ll always offer a digital equivalent to any giveaway.

If you’re interesting in reviewing my book(s), PLEASE do email or tweet me.  I’m going to err on the side of caution and not blindly contact people who might be interested.  I’m considering setting up a form so that interested people can contact me that way for review purposes, or tag your email subject so I know it’s okay to contact you in the future.

Reviewers, bloggers, and readers:  thank you for all you do to share your love of books online.  I promise to do my part in protecting your privacy as much as is in my power.

Charlie’s Puzzle

It’s been a long time since I talked about .  I originally started his story for a Christmas anthology call.  And while I did finish a “novella” at 34K in time for that deadline, I sat on it.  Because I wasn’t happy with it.  The story wasn’t right.  Something was missing.

Something wasn’t right with Charlie.

I should have known when the story started off so strongly in first person.  Why?  First person let’s the OTHER characters keep their secrets.  It becomes a gigantic mystery trying to ferret out those details, because I only hear what the main character hears.  Ranay’s voice I heard loud and clear.  I was in her head, living her thoughts and feelings on the page.  But Charlie was an enigma.

For awhile, I let him remain a mystery.  In fact, that’s what he wanted.  He played with Ranay–and me–by dropping bits and hints but never really telling me what I needed to know.  I wrote some powerful sex scenes and STILL didn’t really know what was up with him.  Every time I looked at him on the page, there was a flutter of something just out of sight, out of the corner of my eyes.  A bit of magic and shadow that taunted me.  Something told me not to look.  It was going to be ugly and probably bloody.

Did I dare investigate further?  Or would I keep it safe and gentle on the page?

Ha.  Well.  You guys know that I can’t resist a challenge.  Of course I had to go and investigate that shadow he was tempting me with.  I found more of Gregar in those shadows than I ever expected.

Charlie can be safe and gentle.  But he can also be as lethal as the Shadowed Blood.

Yes, Charlie’s a killer.  My sweet tousled curly hero with the gigantic well-trained dog.  Who’s patient enough to lure Ranay out of her shell over the course of a year.  He’s an unapologetic cold-blooded killer.

I got you now, Charlie.  Your puzzle is laid out in my head in perfect majesty.  I know what you fear.  I know what you want.  And I’m going to make it all happen in gory detail.  *rubs hands together with wicked glee*

Oh, and his name?  It really is Charlie, because he never lies, and he told Ranay that’s what his mom called him (although that’s not his real name, for reasons).  He wishes he could always be Charlie.  But he can’t be Charlie all the time.  Even for Ranay.

Sometimes he’s…

Ha.  You thought I’d tell all his secrets?  The truth will all be revealed in his story.

On a Roll

I had a super productive weekend.  Felt good to get caught up!

I finished Mama C’s edits and sent them back in.  A few of them were a little tricky.  It seems like such a minor thing to make a character two years older, but there has to be a REASON.  I had to think about the whys and wherefores for a few days before I was actually ready to dig in and make the changes real.

Then I filled out the cover art and blurb forms for Billionaire #2.

And… then I started thinking about what’s next.  I have three books in progress that are vying for attention.  Plus three proposals I need to work up for Samhain.

Yeah, just a few things to do.

My goal right now is to work on plotting and planning for the rest of this month and think about NaNoWriMo.  I haven’t won the last few years but I’d really like to get another book done before the end of the year.  So my best bet will be one that’s already in progress.

No promises about which one that will be yet, but I did have a nice breakthrough on Charlie’s story.  *wicked grin*

Ding, Dong, the Book is Done

Some books are a fast, headlong rush on a straight, level highway through the night with no distractions, fog, or turns to worry about.  Other books are a slow progress up a towering mountain.  The air is fine and thin.  Sometimes it’s hard to breathe.  But you keep pushing forward, even if you can’t tell that you moved at all.

Billionaire #2 was the latter.  I’ve been slowly whittling away at it for months.  But I never had the huge glorious word counts until the last two weeks.  For whatever reason, the book was a slow one.  It made for a few crazy big days, but I finally finished the book over lunch today, and completed my first read thru tonight while the Chiefs played.  I’d already edited the first 100+ pages or so.  I just had to finish, first, and then go back and smooth all the edges together.

So tomorrow I’ll try and read thru again, make sure all my eyes are dotted and my tees crossed, and then Diana and Jackson will be off to my editor.  I’ve got edits due back on Mama C, so I’ll grind through them and ship them back quickly too.

Now, for a snippet, since I don’t think I’ve shared much, if any, of this book.

~ * ~

Jackson Montgomery Warring hesitated before passing the stack of documents over to his client.  “As both your personal and corporate attorney for more than a decade, I strongly advise you against this.”

Donovan Morgan, CEO of Morgan Industries, leaned back in his chair and smiled at his old friend.  They’d known each other since Harvard, and though Jackson had gone on to work for one of the country’s largest law firms, he still handled Donovan’s business personally.  “I know what I’m doing.”

Shaking his head, Jackson handed him the stack of documents.  “As you wish.  At least you’re keeping me as your executor.  If anything happens to you, one Lilly Harrison—”

“Soon to be Mrs. Morgan,” Donovan clarified.

“Will be the sole inheritor of your entire estate, regardless of your married status at your death.  There aren’t any provisions to keep her from taking you to the proverbial cleaners if you divorce before that time, either, regardless of the cause for separation.”

Donovan signed and initialed each page quickly without reading any of it.

“Does she know you’re doing this for her?”

“No.  But I’d greatly appreciate it if you could drop a hint or two about it at dinner.”  Just thinking about her fury—and the resulting punishment she’d dole out for giving her literally every single dime he had—made him shiver.  “The results will be spectacular”

Jackson checked his watch and took the papers back.  “Sorry, Donovan, but I’m due back in Chicago.”

“Dinner,” Donovan insisted.  “I haven’t seen you other than a quick sign here and here in months.  Aren’t you even going to meet Lilly and offer your congratulations in person?”

His friend sighed without answering, shuffling through his briefcase.  Jackson always looked tired.  Who wouldn’t after working at least eighty hours a week for most of his life?  But there was an edge to him that had Donovan worried.  Although not a single hair or thread was out of place, grim lines bracketed Jackson’s bloodshot eyes and he’d hardly met his gaze all afternoon.  It was just a gut feeling, something he’d suspected for a long time.  Ever since I realized what kept me on the edge, so hard and miserable and alone.

“It’s not a good time for me to be out of the office.”

“Want to talk about it?”

Jackson smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes.  “I’m sure you’re dying to hear about all the office back stabbing and shark-infested waters at Larsen & Montgomery.”

“Sure.  Even better if you tell both Lilly and me.  She’s much more devious than I am.”

A tiny spark fired in Jackson’s eyes.  “More devious than you?  I find that hard to imagine.”

Standing, Donovan gathered his own briefcase.  “Absolutely.  Though I ought to warn you that she does tend to curse quite a lot.  Come on, man, we haven’t just sat and drank a few beers and talked in years.  You owe me.”

“How’s that?”

He lead the way to the elevator, pausing at his secretary’s desk to get Monday’s meeting schedule she’d already prepared.  Rachel Addison was proving herself to be imminently more qualified to be his personal assistant than the last woman he’d hired.  She’d tried to blackmail him with a few lewd pictures.  Luckily Lilly had found Miss Addison herself and he couldn’t be more pleased.  And no, his fiancee hadn’t gone out in search of the homeliest woman she could find.  Miss Addison was quite easy on the male persuasion’s eyes and she didn’t quake if Donovan raised his voice.  In fact, he was pretty sure she’d promised to call Lilly each time he lost his temper and he’d sorely pay for that loss of control later.  He made a mental note to see if he could earn some punishment next week.  If Jack would come to dinner and admit why he was in town, Donovan would be covered for a week.  At least.  In bruises.

It was all he could do not to race for the elevator doors and leave his friend to flirt with his assistant.  She was a beautiful, intelligent woman but she didn’t do a thing for Donovan.  She wouldn’t have made him blink an eye even before Lilly.  She didn’t have the kind of power he craved.

“Look how easy I’m making your job in handling my estate,” he said.  “I’m not even asking you to write up a lengthy pre-nup.”

“Haven’t I taught you anything about being attorney yet?  It’s all about the billing, and you’re doing me no favors by making my job easy.”

“At this point in your very lucrative career I don’t think missing out on a few hours of billing is going to hurt your bottom dollar.”  Donovan turned his attention to his secretary.  “Is Mr. Warring’s hotel room taken care of?”

“Of course, Mr. Morgan.”  She didn’t even glance at her boss—she was too busy making starry eyes at Jackson.  She rose up out of her chair and slid an envelope containing the room card toward him, flirtatiously keeping her finger on it.  Her clothes were more office appropriate than the killer heels and short leather skirt that Lilly had once worn in to make him drool, but the silk blouse was low cut enough to give Jackson a good look at her cleavage.  If he was paying attention.  “I’ve booked the best suite for him the entire weekend at the Saint Paul Hotel as you asked.”

 Jackson didn’t even notice.  He must be sick or nearly dead.  After the years he’d seen Jackson with the ladies back in college, he knew damned well his friend was straight.  So maybe he’s no longer into vanilla women, either.  There was only one way to find out.  He’d have to see if he could get Lilly to give a small—extremely modest—demonstration and then watch Jack to see how he reacted.

“I can’t do the whole weekend.  Maybe dinner, assuming there’s a later flight out, but you’ll owe me a ride to the airport.”

Donovan picked up the envelope for him and slipped it inside his coat.  “Gladly, as long as its Sunday afternoon at the earliest.”

“Donnie—”

Ignoring his protests, Donovan took the skyway toward his parking ramp.  “I’m seriously worried about you, Jack.”

“Why?”

“My secretary would give her right arm to have you smile at her and you didn’t even know she was alive, let alone notice the double Ds she tried to show you.  Since when does Hollywood Warring miss out on a pretty girl?”

Jackson let out a startled laugh that was more genuine than anything Donovan had heard from him all afternoon.  “Hollywood?”

“Isn’t that what they used to call you in your frat house?  All that golden boy charm and slick tongue.  You had all the ladies standing in line.”

“I haven’t heard that in a long, long time.”  Jackson smiled but it was tinged with sadness.  “Those were the good old days, Donnie and Jack running amok on campus.”  When Donovan took him to his car, Jackson paused, eyes narrowed.  “I thought you lived in downtown St. Paul.”

“Not any longer.  Get in.  It’s just a short drive.”  While he waited for his friend to get settled, Donovan called home.  “Is Lilly there yet?”

“No, sir,” Chris replied over the car speakers.  “Jacob is already waiting for her at the warehouse, though.  Should I send him in to bring her home?”

“Yes.  I’m on my way with guest in tow.”  Donovan hung up and caught his friend studying him.  “What?”

“Your fiancee is at a warehouse and you have to send someone in to get her?  Sounds weird, my friend.”

“Jacob’s her driver.”

“She needs a babysitter?  What kind of woman are you marrying?”

Backing the car out and heading for the ramp exit, Donovan snorted.  “Don’t you dare tell her that on top of the other reason you’re in town or I’ll be in big trouble.”  I probably wouldn’t be able to sit for a month.  “She’s working on a stained glass project I commissioned back in July and she gets very involved in her work.”

“So involved she needs a driver.  And you have a…what, butler?  At home?”

“She doesn’t drive and she doesn’t cook.”

“What does she do?”

Donovan had to swallow, his hands gripping the wheel firmly. You have no idea, my friend. You couldn’t possibly imagine what she does for me.  “She loves me.  That’s all I need.”