Series: The Druid Series #9
on Expected publication: August 22nd 2014
Genres: Paranormal, Romance
Siana has disappeared. As an Exotic and Druid warrior queen, she is not fully beholden to the magick call of sex slavery as her sister Druid witches. She does not realize as she runs, Baird and Kael follow with opposing agendas.
Now that Jessamine is within the subjugation of the undead, the Druid females will be ruled by the fair hand of Imogen and her Reaper mates, Carrig and Quinn.
Altho, and the gifted Druid female Seraphina, cannot reconcile the inception of their relationship, and her promise to be his as payment. Altho seeks shelter from the Reaper leader, Maghnus… only to discover what is important was not as he thought.
Can Siana obtain the freedom she wishes and the love she denies? Will the new kingdom of Reapers succeed in the protection of their Druid females? Do Altho and Maghnus hold the key to revolutionizing the power structure of both Druid and Reaper?
Nuts and Bolts
This is a spotlight about the basics of writing. But readers might find a few nuggets in here as well.
Oh no! A tech rant—how boring!
Come on guys, haven’t you wanted to know what in the world a writer does all day? I mean, think about it. It’s sort of weird that a person sits around and thinks up strange stuff for a job.
Yes, I’m aware, and I dig it.
Some of the biggest questions what goes into writing and I’ll go over a few things here.
First, nothing gets read if you don’t write.
Sounds simple, yes? (It really is, but a lot of potential writers get caught up in the thought of writing then don’t begin because of the sheer intimidation factor. However, no one has taken away my birthday yet.)
For me, it’s a streamlined process. Not easy in that I sit around with an open box of chocolates and tap away without a care. No. The words are there for me when I need them to be. A movie playing in my head. I try to explain it when I’m asked. Which is pretty much every time someone finds out what I do for a living.
I get a lot of blank looks.
It was simpler when I was a homemaker. Get the kids to school, wipe noses, bake pies. Be. Available. You chicks who have a fam know the drill. My family is mainly grown now and I’m glad the writing bug bit hard later rather than sooner. It would’ve been tough with my whole OCD thing I have going on now.
Instead, this is the new reality: Get up at 6:30 a.m. (Not a morning person, just sayinʼ). Hit social media (not like a punch guys, as in delve in and see what everyone’s saying about The Work—mine and others). Answer correspondence.
Have more coffee. (A critical component.)
Go on my Gestapo March with Hubs. He’s serious as a heart attack about The Workout, and I’m serious about… trying to skip it.
Back to the grindstone. Read through chapter of prior day (so I can get in the character’s heads. Actually, they’re in mine and won’t be quiet until I write them.).
Write the next chapter for this day.
Insert edits that have been returned from the editing house. (Generally, I edit about 20 pages a day, plus write a chapter or two from two different works.)
Write chapter of other title after reading through. (Chapters vary in length but I’m digging 1500 words per chapter which is about 4 pages. However, I’m writing another title where the chapters need to be 2000k, which is app. 6 pages.) I don’t know how I can do chapters to word length with precision. Or how I decide how long a book is going to be and I’m within one thousand words at the end. It’s a mystery. After this many titles, I count on it.
Update back list with new stuff so it looks super-pro. I have a huge assortment of already published titles. Now that the number of titles is around forty, the oldest ones constantly need tweaking to remain current. I usually have a little bit of updating each day.
I have a tech assistant/manager and he is doing some of the really tough tech stuff. I used to do it all. Then it got like an unwieldy blob. I hired him, and he is now the Tech Master.
Yawning yet? No? Awesome!
Where do I get my ideas?
Oh how this question causes the crickets to sing.
It’s easy. I daydream constantly (a source of amusement and irritation to the fam). And I’ll get an idea. It’ll bounce around the interior of my skull for awhile. Roaming the subconscious like a cheetah on the Saragetty. Then at some indefinite point in the future, a second idea will present, and the two somehow “make sense.” The ideas only make sense to me guys.
Now that we’re at the end of the spiel, what’s the Biggest and Brightest advice? Just in case, on the off chance, there is a budding artist reading this.
Never stop. Write and finish the work. Then write another.
If you’re not a believer this works, here’s a few names of some who used this method with great success.
John Locke, J.A. Konrath, and Kristen Ashley.
What do these guys have in common? Huge catalogs.
My basic business model came from them. You can do it too.
Write often, write well.
“Baird.” He tosses his chin toward Carrig and the introductions stall.
Carrig is more amiable than Baird. “What blood are you?”
Titus moves swiftly beside them though he carries Siana’s dead weight. “I am blood of the demonic, and also Exotic.”
“Obviously vampire,” Carrig replies.
“Aye, I am, though I have enough Exotic blood to shadow skip.”
“Baird,” Carrig says, but Baird sprints ahead.
He smells the wetness from the hot spring, musty yet sweet. Baird zeroes in on it as he runs, and Titus follows.
They arrive at the water’s edge, and all of them slip off their clothes.
Carrig nudges the edge of his rucksack open and plucks out soap.
Siana moans, flopping an elegant arm over her eyes.
She gasps as hot water slides over her body. Every scratch, wound, and piece of filth responds with a biting sting.
“What?” Siana asks, her voice thick.
“We are bathing then seeking shelter nearby,” Carrig explains.
Baird takes Siana from Titus, and he resists.
Their eyes lock.
“I will not harm the Druid queen, Faction,” Baird says.
Siana holds an arm around Titus’s waist as she half floats in the warm water. “He does not believe you.” She looks up at Titus through half-closed lids.
Carrig snorts, and Baird frowns.
Her naked shoulders lift. “What assurance does he have, based on your rabid behavior?”
Baird casts his eyes to the ground, properly shamed.
When he lifts them, he is more himself. “I wish to have some time to speak alone with you.”
“Ah,” Siana says, “you need but ask. We’re obviously on intimate terms.”
She says her words with mirth. They are barbs sinking into his flesh, and he deserves it.
Siana lets herself be pulled through the water by Baird.
Something tight and hard eases within Baird’s chest when she is beside him.
He kisses the top of her head, wrapping her tightly against himself.
They float away while the other men clean. Only the sounds of splashing can be heard.
Marata Eros (a pen name for Tamara Rose Blodgett), is the NEW YORK TIMES and USA TODAY bestselling author of A Terrible Love. Marata has more than thirty-five titles in multiple genres including Dark Fantasy, Dark Romance as well as her highly successful Dark Erotica series.
Marata lives in South Dakota with her husband, children and fur kids. She is an ardent reader of many genres. Tamara enjoys interacting with her readers via Twitter, blog and newsletter as often as possible. Please stop by and say hi 🙂
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