Jenna Howard

30 Days of Secrets

2012-01-28T13:14:00.000-07:00

I know amazing women. I know amazingly STRONG women.

I rejoined the Calgary RWA chapter this winter because of a few reasons. Their Bandit Creek books is one of them. I think this is one of the coolest things I have ever witnessed in a writing group. They are writing. More than that, they are publishing the books themselves thanks to this ever changing writing world we live in. I thought it was such a fabulous way to (a) get everyone writing and (b) earn everyone some publishing street cred. It is so awesome, so brilliant. I wish I had joined last year to participate.

And one thing my fellow CaRWAkians are doing is a blog tour on the Bandit Creek website: 30 Days of Secrets. If I hadn't known I was among strong women, I know so now with their honest stories they're revealing to the world.

Do yourself a favour: go meet my fellow authors and learn what is truly strong in a woman. Then buy some books be they are a-freakin'-mazing. Really.

I am so honoured to know these ladies.

Back in Time

2012-01-27T13:52:00.001-07:00

In the process of cleaning I happened upon a red coil notebook. It's the first romance I ever wrote back in 1992. And it was...(inser drumroll) a medieval historical romance.

And it's bad. It's so bad.

Irony is that it's written in purple ink.

In 1992, my childhood best friend had come to visit me. She had, not to long before that summer, sent me a list of authors to read. All historical romances. The addiction began then. That summer we would blow up the air mattress, plunk it down in the front yard and both of us would tackle our historical romances.

It pains me how bad it is. Yes, it's reassuring to have come so far in 20 years but it's bad. I know why I kept it. It's the first novel. It's evidence of my journey but looking at it, attempting to read it, makes me realize I don't want to go that far back when I read my stuff. Cuz it's bad. Sooooo bad.

The journey started with the badly titled Tell Me A Story. But I'm not that kid anymore. And the world should be grateful.

Historical writer I am not.

I've come a long way. I love seeing that. Knowing I'm a lifetime away from a 19 year old writing with coloured pens.

And this journey is coming full circle as the woman who got me started writing romances back in 1992, is contemplating the keyboard yet again. Awesome.

This Year

2012-01-04T08:00:00.000-07:00

Dear Creative Self,

It's time you and I had a serious talk. It's been awhile since we've done anything together and I know the fault is mine. I've bogged you down with things like word count bars on the sides of the blogs, pressured you with thoughts of "what do I do with the finished project?" and even given an unfinished project the added pressure of a web page.

This morning I found myself looking back over 2011 and what I've done and came up with: not much. I let myself become distracted with shiny objects. But as I stood in the shower, struggling to wake up a thought came to me. You know what it was. You were right there with me.

The thought was: remember how much fun we had writing Migs' story? There was no planning, none of this word count, end product business. We just...wrote. A week...and that's all it was...of constant sitting at the keyboard and crying as the words came out. It was exhausting, physically and emotionally, because he was a tough character but remember that?

Remember how fun that was? How much we liked the entire process? We haven't been liking much lately, have we?

Let's get that feeling back. We both know we can write.

This is what we need to do: forget the bullshit. Forget it all. It just you, me and the keyboard. No more thoughts of what do I do at the end because right now, let's face it, there's no end in any of the starts. I bogged us down with unwanted crap.

No more. The bestie and I decided that 2012 was going to be the Year of the Easy. What's more easy than you, me and the keyboard?

I do so solemnly promise no more word count bars, no more notebooks, no more thoughts of epublishing vs self-publishing. You + Me + Keyboard. And let's find that sense of fun, sense of love again.

We can do this. We both know we're pretty good at this writing gig. So let's do the writing gig. I promise...no more word count bars.

Jenna

A Conundrum

2012-01-01T23:29:00.000-07:00

My new year was spent in Edmonton visiting friends and just after posting my well was dry, I found myself with not one but two story ideas.

The conundrum is this.

The first idea came from watching a friend fall asleep on the couch (I was supposed to sleep on but that wasn't what triggered my imagination). It was how he slept. As I watched, I found myself with two familiar characters in my head. Forgotten ones although after the CaRWA Christmas party, I had been talking about them. The characters are Griff & Robyn from Spurred On. I have no conflict and just a scene in my head (with notes of it on my iPhone for reference) and no story idea. This is not the conundrum.

It's the second story idea about shapeshifters. Again it was Friday night and I was lying in bed (not my couch but that's a story for another time) when again...a scene came to mind (and again it's noted on my phone for future reference). I can do one of two things with it. I have to figure out what I want to do with it.

Do I want to write an erotic romance paranormal or do I want to focus it more on contemporary/urban fantasy for the other site?

That's my dilemma.

Not sure what I'm going to do with it.

Guess I should figure out what the story is before I venture down this path.

Hey...I'm not to pick with whatever genre I pick. I have two ideas damn it!

Dust Bunnies

2011-12-29T10:26:00.000-07:00

How's the writing going?

So glad you asked.

Does that answer the question?

Nothing. I got nothing.

2011-12-24T19:54:00.000-07:00

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.

Nothing But Excuses

2011-12-23T09:37:00.000-07:00

It's not that I suck at goals, it's just that I set them in unrealistic times.

When one works retail, the odds of having anything finished by Christmas are pretty slim. I don't have days off until the new year. When exactly am I supposed to finish Todd's story?

Not this year apparently.

Ch-ch-changes

2011-12-10T22:53:00.000-07:00

Holy cow.

I do not handle change well.

Especially when it's all being thrown at me at once. First gmail has changed and I'm still adapting to that. Now Twitter.

Then I decided to update my operating system to Lion. Hey. Did you know Lion hates Mac PPC programs? I didn't. So there was a huge shock (okay...I think I had a heart attack) when I saw a big ol' "can't-touch-this" through my Word only to be told my laptop that it hates my old version of Word. So that meant I had to march off to Futureshop to get a new Office.

On a Saturday.

During Christmas shopping season.

Oh that was fun!

Then once I had Office loaded, I discovered Word had changed.

Sigh.

I cannot function with all this change. Seriously. Not all at once.

Apparently I've turned into an old stick-in-the-mud when I wasn't looking.

Crap.

2012 Goals

2011-12-06T23:17:00.001-07:00

Tonight was the Christmas party for CaRWA. Huzzah to my Santa who gave me Peppermint Bark. Mmm yummers.

What is also done is goal setting for the next year.

Anyone who knows me knows that setting goals and I are not compatible. At all.

Needless to say, I made goals. Here's hoping I can follow through.

#1 - complete Todd's story and submit it
#2 - finish the urban fantasy story starring March
#3 - rewrite the Drummond Sister stories and release them as much much longer stories
~~#4 - redesign the urban fantasy website~~

Oh man...

I better get started.

Reset

2011-12-02T01:27:00.001-07:00

So November faded away without a completed manuscript. Damn it.

The new goal is to have Todd & Amber's tale finished by Christmas.

It's tough to write, I admit, when my hours at work are so helter-skelter. I work retail. It's Christmas. That means it's all kinds of fun. Mostly I'm exhausted when I come home that all I want to do is sit on the couch and veg out watching Storage Wars. That, however, is not getting the story written.

So it's time to suck up my whining and write the book.

It was way easier to write at my last job...when I opened up the Word file instead of tackling a job sitting on my desk. Yeah. Employee of the Month I was not.

I read somewhere on a blog (and I wish I could remember where to give credit where it's due) that 500 words = 30 minutes of writing and 1,000 words = 1 hour.

The goal is 35,000 words and that means I have 31,000 words to go. One hour a day gives me 31 days. And my goal is Christmas?

Good luck, Jenna. Good freakin' luck.

Startling Realization

2011-11-25T12:27:00.000-07:00

Date: November 25, 2011

Goal: To finish Todd's story by November 30, 2011

Realization: I'm only 11% into the story and I have 6 days to finish.

Bravo, me.

Bravo.

Math: 35,000-3,897 = 31,103÷6 = 5,183

5,183 words...a day. A DAY!

Uhm...

Conclusion: Fail. (Unless there's an early Christmas miracle and I'm holding that one out for an iPad)

Technology Love Fest

2011-11-19T00:13:00.001-07:00

Okay, so I got my Playbook to work. It took 3 attempts, especially when it came to connecting my Macbook to it via WIFI to transfer files. I succeeded. Huzzah. And my two WIPs are now downloaded on the PB to write if I so desire while on my breaks tomorrow.

As for the Kindle thing. So...apparently there's this thing called Amazon Cloud that lets you read their ebooks on a web browser. Is it ideal? No but hey...I get to read Kindle books, Kobo books and any other ebook I purchase which was the point of this little piece of technology. I tested it out by buying Tawny Stokes' Static cuz Tawny is awesome and I want to read it and it was 99¢.

So yeah...I'm now loving my Playbook and this could spell the doom for my Dell netbook.

UPDATE: Yeah...this Cloud was a great idea until I realized I didn't have wifi access ergo - no books to read. So much for this bad boy.

When Technology Hates You

2011-11-18T20:26:00.000-07:00

So I was pretty excited at 5:15 pm when I finished work and bought myself a Blackberry Playbook. Chapters has a smokin' deal. It's $300 off. Perfect I thought. I've been looking for something where I can read all versions of ebooks: PDF, EPUB, and Kindle's. So, I came home and spent a good 45 minutes trying to connect to my wifi.

Then came the discovery there's no Kindle app and hasn't been for the past year. Awesome.

Then came the realization that my Macbook doesn't like the Playbook either. I can't connect. Can't figure out how to connect the two so I can move over the ebooks I bought elsewhere (like Liquid Silver Books et al). All I'll be able to do is access my Kobo library. Which is fine and dandy but I can read them happily on my Sony Reader.

And since it came with a Word app, I thought "Hell I can write!" except for...my Mac hates the Playbook and I can't connect to it to transfer documents anyway.

Yeah the price is sweet as hell but if I can't do anything on it...what's the point?

Sad face here.

But at least my mittens fit and are compatible with winter.

Speed

2011-11-17T11:54:00.000-07:00

Some days this is just so true.

A New Vow

2011-11-02T23:17:00.001-06:00

Okay so Jenna & Riann need to start...cooperating because at this point neither of us are writing.

The game plan is during work days I have one hour in the morning to work on Todd's story as Jenna. Then at night, I have one hour to work on March's story as Riann. How the hell I'm going to pull that off when I work a closing shift will be interesting but: I have a 30 minute break so 15 for eating and 15 for writing...there's a 1/4 there. 15 minutes before my shift I arrive so there's another 1/4. Then 30 minutes until 11:30. Doable.

I hope this works because I want Todd's story done by the end of the month.

I need to write instead of just blabbing about it on my respective sites. Time to get shit done!

Where Did October Go?

2011-11-01T11:53:00.000-06:00

It's a new month and for many it's NaNoWriMo for others it's Movember but if I grow a mustache I'm going to be really bummed.

I contemplated signing up for it but then realized my story isn't going to be 50,000 words. Or at least it's not planned that way. But I am going to try to get Todd's story finished in November. Hence the whole WIP Accountability on the sidebar. I'm determined to make that thing move every day.

November is also the Year End Splash party with The Romance Reviews and I'm participating! You register (it's free) and you can answer Q&As found on authors websites and play some games. Both enter you in to win some pretty cool prizes. Look for me around November 21 - 25. Sweet eh?

Time to get that accountability bar moving!

Redemption?

2011-10-25T00:27:00.000-06:00

There's a certain something in writing a character you thoroughly planned to hate.

She's the unspoken, unseen but often mentioned Amber from Scoring Lacey. She's the little so-and-so responsible for the demise of Lacey's marriage when her husband becomes involved with a twenty-two year old.

So why, you ask, did I pair this girl up Todd?

I wish I had a solid answer. I mean it's going to be hard to redeem her. Her actions destroyed a lot of lives - including her own. It's going to have to take a lot of work to turn her from temptress to heroine. And when she becomes involved with Todd the ripples are going to resemble tsunamis. His family isn't going to exactly embrace this are they?

And considering how much Todd loves his family...

Oh the fallout. It's going to be bloody.

But, I wonder, will it be a good read? Will I do enough to turn this character around in everyone's eyes? Fictional and real?

Guess I'm about to find out.

So yes...this is Todd's heroine. Not Shannon...but the girl responsible for hurting his sister and nieces.

I'm a little evil.

The What If

2011-10-19T01:14:00.000-06:00

I admit I've been thinking a lot about Lacey's younger brother Todd. I've had a tough time with him. The original game plan was to write a series of two older women who get involved with younger men. Lacey Magerin with Shayne Donnelly in Scoring Lacey then her best friend Shannon with Lacey's bro Todd. First there was going to be a pregnancy but I didn't like that. And every story I tried to work around Shannon and Todd didn't work out.

I've received a lot of emails (love...feeling it) from people who loved Shayne & Lacey's story. And the emails always ended with "Well what about Todd?" Even reviews were all "Todd and Shannon's story...want it." To which my response has been: Wow...sorry...it's not working.

Then today I updated the website, throwing up a F.A.Q. section regarding Todd. People like him. I like him. I wanted him to have his story.

I got into a little brain storming with the boss on Twitter and while the idea has nothing to do with what she mentioned, I do have one.

Now it seems so obvious. It seems so freakin' obvious that the girl for Todd is

'Tis the Season Apparently

2011-10-16T22:45:00.000-06:00

I have Christmas on the brain. It could be because at work Christmas items are beginning to show up on the floor: Christmas cards and wrap and cinnamon scented pine cones. But I found myself with a story idea trickling through my head with "The Night Before Christmas" factoring into the story.

I get that I'm about 6 months behind (minimum) in the production line to have it come out for this Christmas but I've got my Christmas songs going as I right to get me in the season (no cinnamon scented pine cones though).

All I know is I'm excited to be working on a romance again. I love writing as the other me, no mistake, but there was this fear that maybe I was done on this side of the page.

A relief to know that's not true. I was just waiting for inspiration to come...

With a bow apparently.

Now to just keep the momentum going.

I have a secret

2011-10-01T00:51:00.000-06:00

Things have just gotten a little interesting around here.

Someone, I won't say who but I'll give you a hint...it's me, has an idea for an erotic romance.

That's all I'm going to say.

I have the uncanny ability to jinx myself.

Either way I'm tapping things out. I'm at 1,032 words, which may not seem a lot but when erotic romances have been on the back burner for the past few months...this is huge.

The Delete Button

2011-09-25T09:52:00.000-06:00

It was time.

It wasn't something I used a lot. And let's face it, the entire universe knows what a time suck Facebook is.

That's right...I just deleted my Jenna Howard profile. First I turned it over to Pages but then I was all...do I care?

The answer was a solid "Not really" so I hit the delete button. It wasn't a site I used. Or when I did it was as an after thought. Plus I figured I'm now juggling two blogs and two twitter pages with the birth of my new pseudonym. That was enough.

So...good-bye, Facebook. I could say it was fun but let's be honest here...it wasn't. Not really.

What's been going on

2011-09-24T23:15:00.002-06:00

Soooo....

On Saturday (which is really, technically still today), I went to my first writing workshop in years.

Yeeeeeears.

It was a spur of the moment decision to attend the Calgary RWA's fall industry workshop. I could say I went to hear what the main speakers had to say. And I did. Really.

But mostly...

I've been a lonely little writer. Especially with my writing veering off and leaving me all confused and befuddled like a Charlie Brown with a shoe fetish. (It may look like I'm not writing...but I am. It may look like I'm not blogging...but I am. It's just...not here.) When I (again) impulsively decided to attend the When Words Collide conference, I went for more than just stalking urban fantasy author Rachel Caine. I was going to check out the reception of my sudden appearance between the two writing groups in Calgary. I left both years ago, then stopped writing shortly after this in an unrelated life altering event.

But now I'm writing again. The past year of returning to the words has been...tragic.

It really has. I remember writing being a lot easier for me five years ago then the past year.

But a strange thing has happened in the past year. I write erotic romance. I kinda feel like I don't suck at it. But sometime after Christmas my reading habits changed and those reading choices have affected my writing. I'm writing a lot less erotic (okay...not really) romance and a little more...err...kicking ass and taking numbers. It's left me....floundering. I'm venturing forth with a new story, a new genre, and kind of a new voice. I'm going to need reassurance that I don't suck at it.

And the writing community is one of the most supportive ones I know. I've missed being around other authors. I really have. Even the unpublished ones. There's this energy that hovers beneath the ceiling when a group (even more than 1) writers get together. And I absorb it like some kind of literary vampire.

So...

I impulsively signed up for the industry workshop. Not for the speakers, but for the writers. The speakers were really just the chocolate dipped ~~cherry~~ strawberry (because I hate cherries and strawberries are way more awesomer) on my ~~sun~~saturdae of awesomeness. I knew as soon as I walked in that I'd be returning to the chapter. As soon as I stared at the presentation screen, I knew I was going to re-up my RWA membership. I'd have signed up on the spot if I trusted my iPhone with Paypal (but I don't...cuz I'm weird that way). That was my Saturday. It was pretty awesome.

As for my writing...it's in as much a state of flux as the writing/publishing community. I wish I knew what was in store for me. Being psychic would help me pick those winning lottery numbers too. So...it may look like I'm not here and I'm not writing.

But I am.

Just...here.

I need to develop a balance between my now two writing passions. Erotic romance and urban fantasy.

Because if a balance isn't found and maintained, one of my personalities is going to get hurt feelings and when that happens?

Nobody's writing on this laptop.

Writing Peeps Needed

2011-08-30T23:18:00.001-06:00

Tomorrow my RWA® membership is up for renewal. I may let it lapse for a couple of months for a variety of reasons. 1: I have no money and 2: if I'm not rejoining any RWA® chapters, having the membership is just a big chunk of number 1. 3: kah-to-the-ching.

I'm borderline returning to the Calgary chapter. I have two free meetings to decide and that's what I'm going to do. Get a lay of the land so to speak though the ladies (& gent) I met at When Words Collide were fan-freakin-tastic (*waves*).

I'm greedy to be around writers now. The solidarity of my pumpkin coloured walls has gotten to me. Me need writing peeps. I want to learn from them. I want to hoover up their writing energy like a literary vampire. I want to use my vast collection of journals I can't stop buying at Chapters (damn you Paper Shop and all your cool journals). Okay, I don't want to sit on the C-Train for a total of 2 hours (oof) but then again that's two hours of writing time if I can find the power cord to power up the netbook. Right?

What I discovered attending When Words Collide is that...it's time to immerse myself back in the world of writing beyond my little hole in the wall.

So yeah...that's my game plan. Save money and see what happens in October.

Now to just figure out how to spend my photo credits that expire in 2 days...oiy.

Good Intentions

2011-08-27T12:52:00.000-06:00

I had good intentions to spend August writing for a book for at least one submission call with LSB. That plan didn't work out to well when I went to see the deadline and saw it was September 1st and it's August 27th. It's been so long since I even thought of the story, that I can't remember the name for the hero.

So like all good writerly intentions, I'm letting it die.

I was also hoping to be further into Todd's story than I am. Still in the opening scene. I still have no idea who the heroine is. I haven't met her ergo I have no idea what I'm going to do with his story.

It's not that I'm not writing. I am. Just nothing that's erotic romance. I hate that there's going to be such a huge gap between Lacey & Todd's stories. Then there's Claire & Scott's story. Also on the unfinished table so that means Migs' (my darling Migs) story is still sitting on the bench waiting to play.

All these good intentions...

Time to stop making excuses and write. This was not how I saw this panning out. It really wasn't.

Uncooperative Characters

2011-08-10T19:14:00.000-06:00

I've been having a tough time writing Lacey's younger brother's story. I have a feeling I have the wrong heroine for him. I love Todd. I love Shannon. But together they don't work. Pity.

This may require a do over in the heroine category.

What to do, what to do...

Wait...what's the date?

2011-08-02T00:55:00.000-06:00

Holy cow. Have I seriously not posted since July 15? Wow.

That's...so very bad of me.

I've been busy. Reading. Tons and tons of books all to procrastinate in the writing. Then today I realized I hadn't been writing so I opened up Word and got to work on a WIP. 3,000 words oozed from the writing half of my brain. Feels good. Sooo good.

I decided to go to When Words Collide. It was $50 and I couldn't argue with that. However, my brother's restaurant's soft opening is the Sunday so I'm missing some of the early morning talks because this has been a long time coming. Like I could miss it!

It is weird to look at the membership list on the website because I see names I haven't seen (or thought of) in years. It's not the published authors who make me pause and remember. It's the unpublished ones from the writing groups I used to belong to.

So many names. It will be weird to see them.

One of the names goes back even further. To junior high. Wasn't that a kick to see her name. I totally Facebooked her. How could I not?

I admit it...I'm a little nervous and excited about the reader/writer conference.

Just a tad.

I do wish the ol' critique partner was coming along though. We had such a blast at conferences...being dorks and utter fan girls over some authors. Yeah...I'm cool.

Back on the Conference Horse

2011-07-15T00:52:00.000-06:00

For the first time in years, I'm contemplating a conference.

The last one I went to was in Arizona and that was a hot mess for me. It was the same damn place my father had passed away that winter (Scottsdale) so there was no way I was emotionally ready to go back to that place. At. All. Seriously.

As my friend and I were walking out of a talk, I came to a stop. And I stared. This man looked just like my dad. The same round shape, the khaki pants, a khaki shirt, a bushy grey beard. I recall going to my BFF "Did you see him?" And when I looked back he was gone.

I wound up waking up one night smelling gun oil and just bawled in my bed. And in another talk it was about freefall writing. You pick a word and write. I closed my eyes. Pointed. And my finger landed on coffin. Damn...that weekend was hell. I went to barely any talks. It was an emotional shit storm.

I've been thinking about conferences since I've gotten back into writing. I loved conferences. I love the energy you get from being surrounded by writers. Yes, this is readers & writers, but what the hell? $50, Jenna. Fifty.

I miss the energy of conferences. I miss being surrounded by people who do this too. Writers are awesome. Readers are awesome.

It's time to stop being so solitary. Time to venture forth with my crisp red $50 handed over...and go to this. And I will know people there. So...

What am I waiting for?

Everyone Deserves a Chance to Fly

2011-07-11T18:34:00.000-06:00

This weekend I saw Wicked for the second time. For me, it's like Les Miz. I could see it over and over and over again.

It's such a powerful story about two friends and seeing beyond the obvious. As my friend and I walked out of the theatre, I looked at her. "Didn't we have a talk at ARWA (Alberta Romance Writers Association) a few years ago about looking at things from a different point of view. And didn't the guy talk about how someone had written the story of the Wicked Witch from The Wizard of Oz?"

"Yes!" She all but shouted. "I remember that."

"Full circle," I said with a grin. Maybe it will tweak her brain and my critique partner will start writing again. Ooooh...she could defy gravity. (Couldn't resist. I just couldn't.)

Idina Menzel - Defying Gravity

6 Sentence Sunday #10

2011-07-10T05:17:00.002-06:00

It's that time of year again when the cowboy hats are dusted off and cowboy boots are polished up. The Calgary Stampede. Yeeeeeee-haaaaw.

I've been lazy around here. I admit it. It's summer. It's hot. Aaaand...I'm frantically cleaning my condo. It's a pit. A bookshelf needs to be moved back into the spare room. I'm tired of looking at it in my living room where it really doesn't belong. I haven't been writing. I haven't even been reading. It's a massive cleanorama and I hate it. On the plus side, I procrastinated and made cupcakes.

So in true Stampede fashion, I've hauled out the cowboy and his singing Domme.

There was nothing like seeing Luke do what he was born to do. The horse twisted left and right in the air, kicking, dipping his head as he did his damnedest to remove the pain in the ass on his back. Luke flowed left, right, back, forward as he did his damnedest to remain on the horse. Arousal began to hum through her as she watched him. He was catapulted two feet up from the horse and hit the ground hard, but rolled to his feet.

“Now that,” he crowed, “is a badassed, mother bucking ride.”

I do promise to be more diligent around here. Hopefully that promise lasts longer than the "I will dust every week" vow.

Check out other 6 Sentence Sunday authors here!

6 Sentence Sunday #9

2011-07-03T05:30:00.001-06:00

So I've got a wip on the go (hence it being a work in progress) and decided to use that for this week's 6 Sentence Sunday.

Josie Walsh is a vampire assassin who goes around cleaning up after bad vampires making too much of a mess killing tasty humans. She's about to get the kill order straight out of her nightmares. I love her. She's sarcastic, she's a little twisted and she refuses to apologize for being what she is: a straight up killer with fangs.

And so I give you the first 6(ish) sentences of Josie's untitled tale.

It was one of those nights when I should have stayed away from Bangers. The club was all kinds of temptations for a gal like me and since I wasn’t entirely sure what my mood was like, the best place for me was home with my dog.

The building was a huge warehouse in a not so friendly section of downtown Calgary. It wasn’t the transients, the hookers or the gang members that tried to look tough that made this a bad section for people.

It was the vampires.

Join in the 6 Sentence Sunday fun!

Happy Birthday, Canada

2011-07-01T00:01:00.001-06:00

To My Fellow Peeps of the True North Strong & Free...

Happy Canada Day

Shane Koyczan - We Are More

(Vancouver 2010 Olympics)

Cluttered

2011-06-30T00:54:00.000-06:00

My muse is cluttered. Seriously. Cluttered. It's like he/she/it is a hoarder of story ideas.

I still have Shannon & Todd to figure out. There's Claire & Scott. I have Channing & Lowell to get to work on. Now I have Josie & Kassian. Not to mention I still have to edit Migs & Adam's tale.

I also want to see if I can write a 3k short story for All Romance's Just One Bite contest. (Check it out here if you're curious...)

Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining that there are all these ideas. Considering I'm coming off of 5 years of nothing, I'm not complaining at all.

I just wish there was some kind of filing system. Maybe my muse needs a secretary. Because there's so much going on, nothing's getting finished.

Frustrating.

Very.

Shit. Maybe I need to plot all these ideas. Naaaah...that can't be it at all.

6 Sentence Sunday #8

2011-06-26T05:30:00.009-06:00

So here's a little something from Jessa & Luke in Spurred On with my submissive hero a little relaxed from some outdoor fun time with Jessa and Jessa procrastinating in writing her song.

"Get back to work, Brody.”

“You’re not the boss of me, O’Connor.” Still, she eased off him reluctantly and drew up her jeans.

“I know.” His eyes shut and a blissful smile curved his lips upward. “No one is.”

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Summer Solstice Hop-a-long

2011-06-21T00:02:00.000-06:00

To ring in Summer (though I seriously doubt we'll ever have it Calgary) there's a new blog hop going on where you can enter to win a Nook and other goodies.

This time around there will be some stories set on Crimson Dawn Ranch. A group of people all won a trip to Crimson Dawn Ranch in Wyoming, where an annual Summer Solstice gathering is held every year. Crimson Dawn is known in the area for the great stories of mythical creatures and people that live on Casper Mountain. The celebration is attended by many people from the community, and from around the country. A large bonfire is held and all are invited to throw a handful of red soil into the fire in hopes that they get their wish granted.

I grabbed a couple of characters who were just begging to get their wishes granted: Will Treadwell an astronomer and Lindee Penton an astrologer.

To read some great stories, meet other Crimson Dawn Ranch Summer Solstice winners and check out some man candy pictures plus enter to win a Nook, follow the Summer Solstice blog hop!

Wish This

“Hello, Bee.”

The low familiar voice made Lindee Penton’s heart beat a little faster and sent slow tendrils of heat through her belly. There had been a certain amount of “screw you, Belinda Penton” from the universe when she had learned Will had also won a trip to Crimson Dawn Ranch for their Summer Solstice gathering. She had been so excited when she had won that her Facebook status had read: “going to throw red soil into the flames for a wish – Dear Gods, please fix my car.” Three hours later beside Will’s name was “going to watch flaky people throw red dirt on a fire. Figure they should smother it in two minutes.”

Her internal horoscope had quickly become: Pisces, today the fickle Fates are going to laugh their skinny collective asses at you. Those bitches have it in for you. Avoid all crosswalks, don’t park near that fire hydrant, and you know that weird noise in your car? Fatal.

So here she was in the middle of Wyoming with Will Treadwell. Because the universe was out to get her. William Treadwell. William Andrew Treadwell. “Good evening, Mr. Treadwell.” His dark blue eyes narrowed at her greeting. She missed his glasses. His glares hadn’t been quite so effective until he had gone for laser eye surgery. That she had talked him into doing it was just god damn ironic.

“Bee.” He said her name like he was about to start lecturing on supernovas and she had been caught doodling the cute boy’s name in her notebook.

She glanced at Will and fought the urge to brush that one lock of hair that always fell onto his forehead. He had naturally curly hair and no idea what to do with it. Poor vision could be corrected with lasers, his hair was beyond his comprehension. Styling products were not in his vernacular. That she wanted to play with the dark blonde waves was her own freaking problem. “Mr. Treadwell.”

Pisces, today you will take one too many kicks to your heart. Time to smarten up, Pisces girl, because this thing is not healthy. Toughen up, Pisces girl, and realize that life is passing you by and no man is worth that sacrifice.

“Bee,” he spoke a little softer as if realizing he was in the shit. Good evening, Mr. Treadwell, welcome to your fuck up. “What did I do?”

She folded her arms over her chest and glared at him. “I don’t know, Mr. Has A Real Job, what did you do? What could you have possibly done aside from humiliate and belittle me in front of strangers? I don’t know, William, what did you do?”

His mouth opened but she didn’t want to hear what he had to say. She ignored him, because looking at him hurt. Lately, the digs had become a little more painful. Her job was real. So she wasn’t an all important astronomer teaching other little space geeks while hunting for a new comet or star or whatever he wanted to find for his own mortality up in the heavens. She liked her job. It was fun. She could be creative with her column. Rarely was she right, that wasn’t the point.

He had always teased her about her job but she it didn’t feel the same anymore. It didn’t matter that she had known him since they were twelve and she had been in love since then too. She couldn’t do this anymore. Be good ol’ invisible Bee for him.

Her hand brushed over the dirt as she sat on the ground, watching the fire crackle and roar. I don’t want to love him anymore.

Her hand fisted on the cool earth and she glanced at Will who was frowning.

That’s what I want. To not love him anymore.

Standing up, she went to throw her handful of dirt into the flames when long fingers curled around her wrist. She stared at the grip then at Will. “Do you mind?”

“You still throw pennies into water fountains and you still close your eyes before you blow out your birthday candles. I bet you even wish on the first star you see at night. And you’re the only person I know who still wants to break a wishbone.”

A blush stained her cheeks. Oh the joys of someone knowing you inside and out.

“I’m asking you,” he inhaled slowly then exhaled, his gaze never leaving her face, “to not make your wish, Bee.”

Lindee blinked. “Why?”

“Because you’re the only person I know who believes in the power and magic of her wishes long after everyone stops.” He bent his knees so their eyes were on level. “Don’t make this wish, Belinda.”

Her heart sounded really loud in her ears. “But you don’t believe in this stuff. You’re here to look at stars and watch people smother a fire with dirt.”

He said nothing and that made her nervous. Will looked very serious with the growing flames casting red tinted light over his face while causing interesting shadows. “Yeah, true, but it would fucking suck if this wish came true.”

She swallowed. “The one to have my car magically fixed?”

“Let’s not mock either of our intelligence, Bee. You did not come all the way to Wyoming to wish on your car. Please, Belinda, don’t make this wish.” He pressed his index finger over her heart then looked at her hand still fisted around the dirt.

“It’s not like any of them come true.” Considering each and every one of those damn wishes had been for him to love her, she figured the odds were slim of this one coming true too.

“Magic and possibilities are in the air here,” he said in a low voice. “I’d hate to have this one come true.”

Slowly she blinked. “You know?” God, could this trip get any worse? There was humiliation and then there was this kind of humiliation.

“Belinda, I’m begging you to not make this wish.” Then William Andrew Treadwell kissed her. He kissed like he went through life: slowly and methodically. Lindee first felt the kiss in the obvious places. His lips against hers, his tongue sensually rubbing against hers then it moved lower. Her heart leapt in her chest, a hormonal teenager screaming William Andrew Treadwell is kissing me! Then the kiss slithered lower to more grown up places that ached and throbbed because William Andrew Treadwell was kissing her.

Twenty-four years of wondering what it felt and tasted like to be kissed by Will were finally answered. It felt and tasted beyond compare. Pisces girl, good things come to those who wait. Boy howdy, do they come.

Fingertips applied pressure against hers, slowly uncoiling her fist so the mangled clump of dirt fell to the ground while Will eased away. Lindee’s gaze moved over his face. Each facial feature was etched deep within her soul. The spastic hair, the intellectual eyes, the slightly crooked nose from when he had taken a header off the roof his garage when he had decided it was the perfect place for his telescope, which hadn’t survived the landing. The stubborn jaw that was not softened at all by his rather sexy mouth. She blinked with the knowledge that his mouth had been on hers, his tongue had brushed hers.

Will’s fingers entwined with hers and he rose gracefully to his feet. She let him draw her up then she looked down at the shadow of her dirt. “You ruined my wish, Mr. Treadwell.”

“I’ll make it up to you.” Boy howdy, did he make it up to her.

Lindee stood on the patio wearing his button shirt though she had only opted to do up one button and watched Will slowly pace where the fire still burned. What was he doing? Finally, he found what he was looking for and crouched down. Curious she shoved on her sandals, looked around for prying eyes then darted out to join him. “What are you doing?”

Will lifted his hand. “Hold this.”

When she held out her hand, he dropped dirt into it. How…romantic. He gathered up his own fist of the reddish soil then stood up. “I’ll take that, thank you.” Will held up the hand with his own soil. “Your wish. My wish.” His other hand lifted and he walked over to the fire. For someone not really athletically inclined, the synchronized toss of both handfuls into the fire was quite spectacular.

Lindee blinked as she stared at the fire. Mister logic out the ass, Mister there’s no such thing as magic, Mister woo woo stuff is for flakes and suckers had made a wish. “Mr. Treadwell, what have you done?”

“Changed your wish.”

Pisces girl, the future looks pretty freakin’ awesome. “I hope not,” she said, “because I really need a car miracle.”

Gobsmacked

2011-06-15T10:08:00.000-06:00

Sometimes you just gotta toot your own horn. Okay...always.

I'm not entirely sure how it happened (and I'm not being humble or anything...I'm seriously stunned) but some how my sexy little hockey romp has wound up on this week's bestseller's list with Smart Bitches Trashy Books. According to the post these are the top 10 books being recommended all over the place.

So...thank you for those who are book dropping me. It's quite astounding to wind up on a list with three of my favourite authors.

Okay...astounding is an understatement. It's pretty freakin' cool!!!

Unless I'm hallucinating from the sore throat tea...

Why there be no words...

2011-06-12T01:04:00.000-06:00

I have not been writing.

Or reading really.

There's been some Batman Lego Wii going on - practicing for when I play with the nephew. And it's the only way I can be Batman. He makes me be Robin. Holy rip-off, nephew! I'm like the super awesome aunt, so I should be Batman. "No," he says, "you're Robin." Then he makes all the Lego gadgets that we have to assemble. So the only way I get to do stuff is to...practice.

Also I've been sick.

Again.

And I felt crappy enough to actually spend an hour in the hottest waiting room on the planet (holy crap...how do those people work in that place?) to see a doctor who said "Hello." Listened to me breathe then gave me a prescription for Amoxicil...which is apparently for strep throat. Do I have strep? I dunno. My tongue got that sunburned feeling and there are a few wee bumps but since this guy wasn't talking to me, what do I know? Note to self: find a local clinic for those "I need a doctor stat" where they, I dunno, say more then hello.

Then I managed to wound myself...again...somehow.

And it's a critical wound...I sprained my right middle finger. Which a makes typing difficult, especially when it's tapped to another finger...giving me the ultimate flip off finger. Well...maybe I sprained it. All I know is that it really hurts and I don't want to go back to the hottest waiting room on the planet to find out for sure.

So those are my excuses...what are yours?

short attention span

2011-06-07T18:31:00.000-06:00

Apparently my muse has the attention span of my gnat because it is all over the place.

Dear muse...here's some meds, maybe you can do a little meditation and let's calm down so we can focus on ONE story.

Yeah?

Sweet.

And no...the problem is not me. Pshaw...as if!

6 Sentence Sunday #7

2011-05-29T05:30:00.002-06:00

It's been a slow blogging week. I've been writing. And, well, kinda plotting but kind of not. So here I am a week later with nothing on the blog but last Sunday's post. I kinda suck. I was going to slap up something from Spurred On...until I typed The End for Migs' story.

I fell in love with Migs when I was working on Claire and Scott's story. He's tortured, he's wounded. He scared me as I wrote Love Comes because I wasn't entirely sure he was going to make it. I'm also a little nervous as it's my first M/M book. But as my (former) critique partner and I used to say: write scared.

I admit it. I was terrified. Migs...love him. Demons and all...

He hated twenty-five. He had been twenty-five for only a few hours but he really fucking hated it.

A lot of shit had happened to him in this house. He had leaked blood in the front hall, had gotten into one helluva fight in the kitchen that had almost gotten him kicked out in his first week, had his first crush in the living room, had his first love in this house.

Now he was leaving.

Total bullshit.

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6 Sentence Sunday #6

2011-05-22T02:02:00.002-06:00

A little bit more from the Scott & Claire show because despite their dark & twisty, they're fun to write. He's such a dawg and she's so sassy...I really need to get back to them. Too bad their buddy Migs hijacked the story mojo. Punk kid.

Great breasts, he thought.

She turned, hit the door with her hip and then pointed one hand at him as she did some wiggly move on the heels of her feet. A smirky smile appeared as she flipped him the middle finger then returned to bumping and grinding at the counter as she cracked an egg the way they did on cooking shows. One handed. Why that out off all the dirty dance moves was sexy was beyond him.

“I see you met Claire.”

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In the Black

2011-05-17T23:35:00.000-06:00

I just wrote Migs' dark moment. I've always known that the dark moment was when "all hope is lost." It's when the future of the couple becomes uncertain.

The problem is that Migs' hope is lost and his future is uncertain. So that couldn't be his dark moment. Really. It couldn't.

His dark moment is when he realizes what all the shit in his head cost him before the story even started.

I don't plot. I probably should. Don't get me wrong, this story (and others) would probably be finished if I did plot but this moment was a startling a-ha moment not just for my boy Migs but for me. I was all "Oooooh" with him on the floor from the verbal lashing he/we got from Adam (formerly known as Luke).

Now that I/he knows what's wrong, he/I have to fix it. No...not fix it. Fix it seems such an easy phrase. Like a magic wand will be waved over my wounded hero and he'll magically be put back together again. He just needs to realize what I already know (and what Adam already knows) and that's that he's a pretty awesome guy: emotional scars and tattoos of Michelangelo's David and all. Of course he's pretty stubborn so it's not going to be easy. Punk kid.

It's a sick, sick world

2011-05-16T19:24:00.000-06:00

It is really hard to write when you're sick. I mean you're under the influence of Nyquil. I texted under the influence of Nyquil and became nervous at what I may have blurted out (nothing scary - phew) but still that's a text. So when you've written a scene under the influence of Nyquil, you know it ain't going to be pretty.

It wasn't. It was (a) badly written (b) gratuitous sex (yeah...not often you find that phrase thrown down by an erotic romance writer) and (c) pure crap. And I realized through the sniffles and congestion that it was time to put my Migs to bed. Literally and figuratively. I mean I have his (newly renamed) guy in the condo. I had him leave and that kind of took the wind out of both my sails and Migs' so I think I'll leave him in Migs' place, have them fix their issues than let them tear up the bed.

It's the least I can do. I think I'll wait until I'm off the Nyquil though. Of course this idea may not be the brightest one either. I'll blame the Nyquil if it sucks. It's the least I can do. And if it's brilliant, it's all me.

6 Sentence Sunday #5

2011-05-15T05:30:00.000-06:00

This is from a work in progress that has been put on hold because a character shanghaied my muse. I think that's a little unfair. Scott doesn't make a good first impression on Claire. The man is staggering drunk and it's 4 in the morning. The second impression is okay since it involves his tongue in her mouth but then the drunk fool goes and ruins it all because, well, the man is tanked.

He didn’t look familiar but Celeste had waxed so poetically about Scott’s dark blonde hair, and muscles and shit that Claire assumed it was him. “He got a name?”

The girl shrugged as if names hadn’t come up in the situation that had her blouse buttoned incorrectly. Wow, this was Celeste’s Mr. Perfect? Her qualifications were pretty low.

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Vote Yes for hot, steamy sex

2011-05-10T02:34:00.000-06:00

Shayne & Lacey need some help.

Happily Ever After Reviews has nominated Scoring Lacey as a top pick but votes are needed. And since they won't let me vote more than once...

A vote for Scoring Lacey is a vote for hot, steamy sex!!

And who doesn't like that??

VOTE HERE

6 Sentence Sunday #4

2011-05-08T05:30:00.022-06:00

Some more Shayne & Lacey because, well, they're super awesome and I love them both and because there's nothing like a game of air hockey while the rules of a different game suddenly change on you without a warning. Scoring Lacey is available for sale here and here.

She blinked twice as the puck sailed right by her. then looked up and over her shoulder, meeting Shayne’s gaze.

“If you move your hand,” he moved his side to side, “your chances of stopping shots increase.”

“My team,” she said, pointing at her chest. “You’re on my team.” Was it her or had his gaze flicked down to her cleavage before snapping back up to her face? What the hell was going on?

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Begging for Votes

2011-05-04T19:49:00.002-06:00

Scoring Lacey is up for favourite 5 at The Romance Studio but I need help. YOUR help.

Please go give me a vote and earn my undying love.

Rock Bottom

2011-05-02T23:00:00.001-06:00

Poor Migs. I'm such a bitch to him.

We've hit a small snag in the story. One minute I have my ~~handsome~~ gorgeous, tortured hero walking down the street and the next we're in limbo.

He's tired, my Migs is. Tired of struggling, tired of the shit in his head, tired of waiting for something to happen that would just end all the pain.

First take had him hovering on the roof of his condo. Yeah. Go team me. Never put your hero on a ledge when he has nothing to lose.

Then I had him stabbed and home after he got stitched up. We stumbled along, both of us not that happy with the crap spewing from my fingertips. It wasn't that I had gone and jumped the shark, it just felt like we had plugged into a kind of life support to drag the story somewhere. Anywhere.

Then I had him get shot.

That doesn't seem to be working in our favour either. All I got from him was that he didn't want to wake up in the hospital alone. He's tired of being alone and if he gets shot, and Luke* isn't there then why the hell would he plod along for a few more chapters because he was going to take a header off his balcony. Subtle, he is not. But to have him shot and then to have Luke miraculously there is a bit bothersome. First how did he find out Migs got shot? Second how would he know what room to find Migs in...he doesn't know his real name? It was all so coinky-dink that both Migs & I winced.

And truthfully, I figure he's so emotionally wounded and broken, I really don't want him physically wounded and broken either.

I know exactly where things got hazy. The end of Chapter 7. With my poor, broken shell of a Migs who has hit his bottom and neither of us know how to fix him. Hence all this stumbling around in the peanut butter.

Crap. I really need a spoon.

* In the know: Yes, yes, I know I already have a hero named Luke from Spurred On. Truthfully it never clicked when I named this Luke and I'm having a hard time replacing his name. He's just so entrenched as a Luke. He's nothing like the Spurred On Luke but really...does that matter? The names are the same and I'd hate to confuse anyone. Apparently I like the name or something. *sighs*

6 Sentence Sunday #3

2011-05-01T05:30:00.004-06:00

Spurred On marked my return to being published after my hiatus. It was a different kind of story for me because I had no idea what to do about my Domme, Jessa. Good thing Luke knew.

His hand slid up her back, under the plaid shirt but over the soft tee. She was flush against him so he felt the fullness of breasts he had been eyeing since he realized tits were great things. Her hand flexed on his cheek and she gazed into his eyes.

“Come for me, Luke,” she whispered against his swollen lips.

Arousal shot through his body like an electrical current. From her lips to his cock.

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Twitter

2011-04-30T23:14:00.000-06:00

I'm Twittering again so if anyone out in blogland is Tweeting...I need some tweet tweet love and peeps to follow.

Gimme that tweet, tweet love...you know you wanna.

A dream of some kind of peace

2011-04-29T08:04:00.004-06:00

The scene was nothing big. 1000-ish words.

He wasn't a main character. He was a scene ambusher.

Migs. My Migs. Beautiful Migs with Michelangelo's David tattooed on his back. There was some speculation about him in that first scene and then I found the story hijacked because there was Migs.

Beautiful, broken Migs. The whore.

When I started to write the first story, I knew it was going to be a little tough: Claire's a stripper and Sean used to put things up his nose and they weren't marbles. But then came Migs' world. Nothing prepared me for Migs' world.

At about midnight, I found myself opening up a new word document. With Sarah McLachlan youtube-ing it up in the background, I began to write. I became aware of the passage of time as Migs spilled onto the page. 12 - 1, 1 - 2, 2 - 3 , 3 - 4, 4 - 5, 5 - 6. Thank God I didn't work the next day because after 3 hours of sleep I was back at it, scarfing down chocolate Easter eggs because they were close.

Migs had me at hello. He really did. He's the most broken character to ever spill from my dark & twisty. He is lost and struggling to find his way in "the real world" and there are times when I fear he won't make it. When I worry my young Migs is so broken, he's going to off himself. He's thought about it. A few times and it hurts my heart. He's self-imploding because he can't have what he wants: home, love...

I can't even leave his point of view. The two times I did felt wrong even though the POV was Luke's. (Yes...tackling my first M/M and it's a daunting thing) It's all Migs. Because he's drowning. Drowning in his fears, drowning in his past, drowning in his wants and needs. Those who offer him a life saver are rebuffed.

He's got me by the heart strings and writing him is painful. I've cried few times. Not tears trickling down the cheeks but the kind where I needed to stop because I couldn't see the computer, the kind that made my hands shake and my lips quiver. I admit it - there was some crying snot.

Reaching over, he spun the phone and watched it go round and round before it wobbled and came to a stop.

“Pussy,” he mutter as he grabbed it, snapped it open then pressed the button that would connect him to someone. Anyone. He hung up before it rang then held the open phone against his forehead.

“Hi,” he said into the silence. “I miss you. Can I come home now? This place sucks ass because no one’s here. You’re not here. So can I? Love me. Just a little will you? Because I’m not sure I can do this without you.” He closed the phone and flung it onto the couch. Elbows braced on his knees, he stared at the rug he had picked out. He had pointed and said it would do.

How can I not love him? Pretty much all Tuesday night/Wednesday morning's writing was accompanied by Sarah McLachlan's Love Come. It just seemed so appropriate for Migs. I do hope he gets his happy ever after. I truly do. Because at 26,100 words I have my fears and doubts. I resent my job that takes me away, I barely answer the phone (sorry brother!). Because he has me. He has me.

“Rough night?” (The cabbie asked.)

He grunted as he flattened his arm over his stomach, pressing onto his side. “Rough life, my friend. Rough life.”

He opened his eyes as the cab drove through the quiet streets. Eventually his building arrived and he sighed with relief. One pain pill coming up. “Thanks, man.” He handed over a hundred dollar bill. “Keep it.”

“You gonna make it?”

A harsh laugh escaped from Migs as he eased out of the car. “No. No, I’m not.” He walked to the front door, let himself in and slowly made his way to the elevator. “I’m so not going to make it at all.”

If I had died…would you miss me? Would you mourn for me? I have a name. And you’d never know it. Ask me, Luke. Ask me about Michelangelo’s David.

Oh yes...I worry about my Migs. I so want...so much more for him.

For Migs:

Love Comes - Sarah McLachlan

(feel free to stop watching at 4:25 as she talks for another minute. There's the non-live version but it pales to this version)

* Re the picture: I usually find images of the characters but no one is Migs. This picture though IS Migs. (a) his body is smokin' hot but (b) there's something vulnerable to it and that IS my Migs. That is so my Migs.

All scenes are mine and mine alone. Touch them I will cut your heart out with a spoon. Seriously. ©Jenna Howard

A review

2011-04-26T18:06:00.000-06:00

I have a bad habit.

I do it daily.

I Google myself. I've been stalking the internet looking for reviews for Scoring Lacey. And today I found the first one.

There's always that tiny bit of fear that someone will hate what you write. There's that moment where I close my eyes, exhale slowly then read someone else's opinion of my words. And then there is that moment...that beautiful golden moment when I realize they liked my story. I mean just because I think Shayne & Lacey are the bomb, doesn't mean everyone else does.

So yeah...it's always nice to know that someone else enjoyed their story. And that I'm doing my job right.

Thanks to Happily Ever After Reviews and Claudette for Scoring Lacey's first review. It was awesome. Just awesome and totally made my day.

6 Sentence Sunday #2

2011-04-24T05:30:00.002-06:00

I love Scoring Lacey. I love everything about it from the cover to my characters. I love that it's hockey and sexy fun times and two people just trying to figure out what's going on between them.

“There’s nothing mere about you.” He took her mouth again, his hand slipping under the neck of her tee. She arched as he traced the edge of her bra. “Tell me you’re wet. Tell me your panties are uncomfortably damp as they get to kiss that sweet pussy of yours. Tell me you still feel my cock filling you.”

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Year of the Rabbit Blog Hop

2011-04-23T00:01:00.002-06:00

So this is my first ever blog hop. So welcome to all those participating in the Year of the Rabbit Blog Hop. Curious as to what's up? Click here to join in the bunny hop and to enter to win a cool, nifty Nook and some cool prizes. Including Scoring Lacey! (Ooooh yeah...)

Our mission, should we choose to accept it, was to write a story with a set first line and a quote starring three characters in a location picked randomly by some fancy website magic. My picks?

With choices like that...I decided to accept my mission (after I stopped licking my monitor because yow! Ain't he yummy?)

Center Stage

Bloody footprints. What a way to start the weekend.

When she found out who had tracked bright red footprints all over her stage, somebody was going a world of hurt. Darcy Haines nudged the toe of her pastel pink Ked into one man size print and made a low growl because the paint was dry.

“That’s quite the mess you got.”

The familiar drawl made her look away from the prints marching across the Haines Community Theatre stage. Narrowing one eye she looked at Jack. “Show me your shoes.”

He flattened a hand on his heavily muscled chest. “Where’s the trust?”

Snorting she pointed at his feet. He turned and lifted first his left foot then the right foot. There was no paint but knowing Jack he had changed shoes. He was smart, Jack was, and wasn’t one to get caught with paint on his shoes. The man knew better than to get his hand caught in the cookie jar. The Farnham Bank was a different story.

“Looks like your size,” she said studying his foot then the footprint. She could see him doing this. She really could. It was just his level of maturity. Jack lined his foot up beside the evidence. Damn. The print was a size bigger. The smile on Jack’s face was smug. “What are you doing here?”

The last time she had seen Jack he had looked a little rough around the edges. A little harder, his eyes a little more bitter, and his attitude a lot more humble. Jail did that to a person. Growing up, Jack had been the daredevil. Jump off a roof and into a pool? There was Jack Blake. Break into the school to redecorate the principal’s office? Jack Blake. Steal a police car? Jack Blake. Rob a bank? Jack Blake. Most likely to wind up in prison? Yep…Jack Blake.

The bad boy had been mildly attractive as a teenager. What wasn’t to like about the rebel? Until his reckless need to push rules and boundaries had gone too far. She wondered if someone had dared him to rob the bank or if he had come up with that dumb idea all on his own. She had outgrown crushing on bad boys a long time ago. If she wanted to strip off his shirt and rub her breasts over his chest then slide down his body like water, no one needed to know that but her. This was her, outgrowing crushing on Jack Blake. Go Darcy!

Jack dug into the pocket of faded jeans and pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper. She watched, curious as he opened it up to reveal the flyer she had plastered all over the place. Oh hell no, she thought as she looked up into familiar blue eyes that were alive with trouble. She refused to admit it was a sexy look that still looked good on him.

Heels on the wooden floorboards sounded like gunshots and her shoulders drew up automatically. Her stepmother always made her feel a little less than others. How many lectures had she heard over the years that if she just applied herself she’d be as smart and as clever as her stepbrothers? But no, Darcy had dreams of being an actress. Yeah, that had gone over well. She and every other girl out there. She had tried. Damn it, she had tried. Auditioning for anything, everything. A few commercials, a few drive-bys on soap operas hadn’t paid the bills and her father and stepmother had brushed their hands off her. She wondered what her oh-so-uptight parental units would say if they knew she had made ends meet working a stripper pole.

Darcy had come back to Farnham with her tail between her legs and her pasties in the trash. She’d never be a doctor like her stepbrother, William, or a professor like her father. Like hell she’d be carbon copy archaeologist like Victoria. No more was Darcy going to apologize for being who she was. She had gone to Farnham bank, bulldozed her way to getting a loan and bought the old movie theatre, abandoned for the glossier mega theatre off the highway. If she couldn’t act, by God she was going to direct. And if that didn’t work out, she’d strip. Or maybe have Jack rob the bank for her.

“What,” Victoria said as she waved one of the flyers at Darcy, “is this?”

“It’s a flyer,” Darcy said. “Were you going to audition?” Victoria’s eyes narrowed. She could totally see her stepmother as Blanche Dubois. Appearance was everything. Although that would be typecasting wouldn’t it?

“This is trash,” Victoria declared. “You are embarrassing the family.”

“Are the Haines mafia now?” Jack whispered in her ear.

Darcy flicked her hand at him because he was not going to help matters. “How am I embarrassing the family?”

“Why must you constantly bring this family down? When will you grow up?” Victoria’s cool hazel eyes flicked to Jack and dislike crawled across her face like a caterpillar. “And stop hanging around riff-raff. This isn’t going to happen, Darcy.” She rattled the paper.

“Yes,” Darcy said as she calmly plucked the paper free and smoothed out the wrinkled edge. “This is going to happen.”

Grow up? Grow up? They had flicked her off their windshield like a bug because she had dreams vastly different then theirs. She had done desperate things to keep herself off the streets because of that “embarrassing the family” speech she had heard her entire life and their unwillingness to send even a hundred dollars to her. Like the Haines were big shit or something. People. They were just regular people with fancy degrees. But Darcy wasn’t like the rest of her family. She was a dreamer. Academics hadn’t been her strong suit and it had taken her a long time to realize that even though she didn’t have a university degree, didn’t make her nothing.

Victoria glared at her and stormed off, heels firing bullets in their wake as she exited stage right.

“Wow,” Jack sighed. “She’s still got a bitch on for you. Maybe those are her footprints. Or one of her genetic clones.” He squeezed her wrist gently and the teasing faded. “Want me to steal her car?”

Darcy grinned. “No. Nice gesture though.” She turned and studied Jack with his dark hair now sprinkled with grey. “You're not an actor, Jack.”

He leaned down so their noses were almost touching. She refused to acknowledge that old, familiar hiccup in her chest. Hello Darcy…remember the ex-con part. “And miss out being in the first Darcy Haines production? Are you crazy?”

There were times, she realized, that when bad bad Jack Blake, could be a nice guy. “Okay. Here.” She withdrew the rolled up play from her back pocket and slapped it against his chest. “Show me what you got, Jack.” His grin was pure sexy devil as if his thoughts had veered from the play to something else. He was still close and he smelled really good. How many fantasies had stared that sexy, bad boy smirk? Ugh. She was such a cliché. “And,” she let her own inner devil out too because it was Jack, “why don’t you take your shirt off?” There had to be some perks to this job right?

Familiar faces

2011-04-19T23:04:00.000-06:00

I ran into a familiar face when I was at work. As soon as I saw her I knew she was from when I was in ARWA and CaRWA (the two main romance writing groups in Calgary). Not a lot of catch up. Her friend asked what I wrote "Erotic romance" was my answer though I didn't get a chance to drop my name and/or website.

It took me 30-45 minutes to remember the first woman's name.

I fell rather victorious I remembered it at all as I hadn't seen her in 5-ish years.

I always wonder what people in those writing groups are up to. I wonder if so & so is flogging the same damn story she was pushing 5+ years ago even though it would never sell as a romance (especially a category* one) because the heroine was married to someone not the hero. I have a feeling a lot aren't writing anymore as I've run into other familiar writing faces in the store. I don't want to TALK about writing...I want to write. And I think that's a main reason why I haven't rejoined the groups now that I'm back to the words.

Although maybe one day. I do miss being surrounded by writers and that energy they give off.

On the plus side my former critique partner suggested we get together over vanilla vodka and brainstorm because I'm having so many damn issues with Todd & Shannon. Although I may have cracked the problem when I walked to work. Maybe, just maybe I'll get her writing again. Then we could be the wise asses in the writing groups again. Perhaps that's why I haven't rejoined them...they just wouldn't be the same without her.

6 Sentence Sunday #1

2011-04-17T05:00:00.004-06:00

Come Sunday morning, my Google Reader blows up with Six Sentence Sunday posts. I decided perhaps it was time to check this out. Yeah I bailed on Three Word Wednesday. But what the hell...

Today's 6 sentences comes from my current work in progress Chasing Shannon starring Lacey's younger brother Todd and her best friend Shannon.

If he dragged his ass to the hospital for the good drugs, would she hold his hand? Stroke his forehead and whisper reassurances in his ear? “Fuck, Magerin. You are a sap.” He seriously needed new drugs. These ones were turning him into a girl.

Enjoy other 6 Sentence Sunday authors.

Fan Mail!

2011-04-12T02:00:00.001-06:00

I received an email Monday afternoon from a total stranger who said she loved Scoring Lacey and she hopes I'm hard at work on Todd's story.

There's just something so rewarding in hearing someone loves your story and that you don't suck.

All Mondays should start like that.

Thanks complete stranger for making my day and letting me know I don't suck at my job.

847 words...the sequel

2011-04-10T02:21:00.000-06:00

So I tried to use the 847 words at the beginning and decided I didn't like that either.

Translation: maybe it's those 847 words that don't fit at all. Perhaps the 39k-ish words are where the story's meant to go. I mean it doesn't suck...it just needs plotting and tweaking.

So long, melodramatic story story short?

If it ain't broke, don't fix it and if it needs to be tweaked, tweak it and really...know what words to keep and keep not. At least I tried. Without utterly erasing 39k-ish words.

That's what copy & paste is for!!! Come on, I'm simple-minded...not stupid. :D

847 words

2011-04-06T14:54:00.000-06:00

The word count reads 39,000-ish and the page total read 138.

And I'm unhappy with all of it. Well except for the original 847 words that I started with. Those I still love even though they kept getting pushed back further and further in the story because I have no idea what to do with them.

As I lay in my bed, battling fever-induced headaches while the fire alarm goes off for testing (fun), I came to this conclusion.

All that 39,000-ish words I wrote are kinda garbage. I'll keep some because a lot of it is how she got into this jam in the first place but I'm going to put the original 847 words where they belong. At the beginning.

Not as a prologue then flip back two weeks in time as had been done in the original case (just say no to time travel) but I'm going to use those 847 words as the path...forward. Not backwards. Because when I got to that moment in time where my 847 words united with the story, it didn't fit. I couldn't get the puzzle ends to meet up.

So what did I do? I kept hammering and hammering at it to make them fit and now as I look at this 39,000 monstrosity of words I realize that I'm doing the rookie mistake. I'm hammering, I'm forcing a fit that doesn't work.

The story turned into some kind of star-crossed lovers thing that's making my skin itch. The story lays in that original 847 words. I know this else I wouldn't have written them at the beginning.

Then I moved them and I lost the rails. I'm in the weeds. But those 847 words...that's my ticket out of the weeds.

It's not the plotting, it's not the problems with the world it's that I forgot what those 847 words were for.

The beginning.

Not the middle...the beginning.

SExy times

2011-04-05T09:30:00.000-06:00

It's the Morning After and I'm over at LSB for the first time in years.

Game On

2011-04-04T18:31:00.000-06:00

The puck has dropped!

Scoring Lacey is on the ice.

Lacey Magerin never expected her husband of twenty years to leave her for a twenty-two year old. She never expected her fifteen-year-old daughter to blame her for the divorce. Lacey also never expected Shayne Donnelly. The NHL goalie is her brother's best friend and is ten years younger than her. Neither of them know the rules in this new game but that's not stopping either of them from playing or finding love in the least likely place - on home ice.

So go on...buy it.

You know you want it.

Scoring Lacey has a date

2011-03-29T10:17:00.000-06:00

I got the word yesterday that Scoring Lacey has a release date.

The puck drops on April 4, 2011.

That's next week!

I'm not ready...I still have to get the zamboni out onto the ice.

I'm over the moon though. Over the moon. I love this story so much.

This Little World O' Mine

2011-03-27T17:06:00.000-06:00

I took a break from reading my current WIP and wow...is it a hot mess.

It's not crap as there's some good stuff but it is a hot mess. It's not the dropped story items that concern me...it's the inconsistencies in the world I created. It was me saying my heroine had no magic - forgetting that line and then all of a sudden she has magic. Crap.

It was messing up what she can and can't do.

I've been hauling around my little notebook and flower pen in my purse but I haven't been doing anything. I keep telling myself to plot and yet I don't.

I'm kinda realizing why...because I utterly mucked up my world building. How can you plot when you don't really know what your heroine can and can't do?

In reading, I realized I need to stop. Just stop.

Then I need to plot. I need the rules established on what my heroine can and can't do, what my hero can and can't do.

I told myself that I didn't need to know the world because I created it years ago. Unfortunately...I changed it without thinking of the consequences.

There's world building in all our books, even those that aren't fantasy or paranormal. In a contemporary book it's the world our characters live in. She's a divorced teacher, he's a renegade cop - so you better know their worlds because someone in the real one will go "Uhm...yeah...he can't do that because it's illegal."

In a paranormal/fantasy/sci-fi/etc. we create worlds. Some vampires fly, some can walk in the sun, the future, the past with future elements - it's their world. We better damn well know it. Sure rules can be broken. My heroine does that. Unfortunately she's inconsistantly breaking them and it's gonna leave people with a giant "WTF?" I mean if I'm going "WTF?" something needs to be fixed.

First: write the rules of the world: what can be done, what can't be done, what can be change believably.

Second: plot

Third: tap those words out.

Will it take time? Yeah. Am I patient about it? No. That's how I wound up in the weeds in the first place.

On the book training

2011-03-23T10:09:00.000-06:00

I've been reading a lot of series lately since urban fantasies seem to roll that way.

I read them before but I seem to be learning something.

It's kind of basic and I realized it reading the Stephanie Plum series. Make sure your heroine learns something and doesn't remain incompetent and it's luck that gets her through the day.

I'm reading a series right now like that. She does a lot of screaming and then it's dumb luck, or a hot mage or sexy vampire who saves her ass. What's the point? Seriously...what's the point? I've read the 4 books so far and it seems I just mostly enjoy the sexy parts because the action is smack-me-in-the-face and by the time I put down the book I've realized I just read a book where the heroine doesn't do much but scream and kiss sexy guys.

The series that I seriously enjoy are the ones where the heroine actually figures her shit out as she goes along. I stopped reading Plum because she doesn't seem to be learning anything. After 17 books, one would think she'd start getting good at her job. In this series I just read, it's 4 books in and she's not really getting good at her job.

So I realize that when I write a series and someone has a new "job" she better start getting good at it because the learning curve is short. It's one book to another. On the book training so to speak. It can't be dumb luck and sexy boys saving her because that's just not satisfying. At all.

Even if they're really sexy.

That's not enough for a series. It's really not.

I got remember that: Heroine needs to learn her shit and sexy guys can't always save the day. And no dumb luck. Nooooo dumb luck at all.

3/3

2011-03-08T02:24:00.001-07:00

And that ain't bad...

Email is now working...I just can't send from my personal email to my domain one for whatever reason. *shrugs* Who cares, right?

I'm technologically back on the grid!

2/3

2011-03-07T22:38:00.001-07:00

I'm two thirds of the way out of fixing the cyber mess I made.

www.jennahoward.com is back on the web and is enjoying her new hosting home
I can now send email.

I just can't receive it. How awesome is that. So hopefully no one is trying to get ahold of me and thinks I'm some prima donna bitch because I'm not responding. The webmail is working with the site it's my Mac mail. Tempermental brat.

Sigh.

So close and yet so far away.

Major Glitch

2011-03-06T13:03:00.002-07:00

I should really not be allowed to internet because now my website is a mess.

Minor Glitch

2011-03-05T01:50:00.000-07:00

Apparently when I switched my site host...I utterly screwed up the email.

So...yeah...that's not working right now.

Two thumbs up me.

Making It Write

2011-03-02T00:23:00.000-07:00

I'm 45 pages/12,891 words into my story.

I know I need to take a step back and do some plotting because I don't want to hit the wall. It's funny how this one came about as they're characters that have been in my head for years. I've rewritten and reworked the beginning a few times over the past few years. I've changed who hooks up with who because the hero who was a previous secondary character was just that much more. I had written a scene with him and the heroine and realized that they simply...fit. They had this connection that appeared instantly that was missing with her previous guy and his previous gal.

But I couldn't get it to work. Not as a romance or even erotic romance. It's their world. It wasn't working as a paranormal.

With this new obsession and love of urban fantasy I realized...bam! That their world, their relationship, their connection would fit in that genre.

They pounced to the forefront of my brain, their Wolf fangs flashing at anyone in their way because now that I had figured out the issues, they want to have their story told. Now. And damn any other characters standing in their way.

I tried to work on another idea I had (one fully plotted thank you very much) but these characters who have never gone away (even when I wasn't writing) are too strong. They're talking the loudest and that means they get priority.

I do need to plot. I know it. Even though pieces are starting to connect in my head. Pieces that had started with a thought a few months ago of "What if he has to save her? But from what? Why?" The what hasn't quite been realized nor the why. I have a vague idea but she just keeps getting her ass into trouble so yeah...not so easy to figure out.

Does it really matter because, by God, I'm writing. I've written the goo of words off the wall after acknowledging the fact that the wall was because I wasn't paying attention. You gotta write the story that calls to you, even if it's not in the game plan.

45 pages and by God...it's damn fun writing something new.

Especially because I'm positive this time I got it right.

Spinning Wheels

2011-02-27T13:12:00.002-07:00

I'm stuck in the quagmire that is my brain.

I have two characters in my head and no idea what to do with them. We're all sitting around the kitchen table, lifting a shoulder and muttering "I dunno."

Frustrating. Really, really frustrating.

We've been like this for months. Tossing ideas onto the table, lifting a shoulder and going "I dunno."

It doesn't help that there are other characters body checking them out of the chairs and going "So, look, if we do this..." So I'll dabble with those bossy characters until the couple regain their chairs.

Then we sit around, lifting a shoulder and going "I dunno."

I wish at least one of us knew. Maybe we'd get further than ~~Chapter One~~ ~~Prologue~~ ~~Chapter One~~ ~~Prologue~~ Chapter One...

Changing Times

2011-02-17T13:07:00.000-07:00

My writing is changing. I'm watching it change as I write. The books I'm reading are factoring in. I've veered away from romance that I've been reading diligently since 1991 and I'm hitting up the sci-fi/fantasy section of the bookstore like an addict. Urban fantasies are my narcotic of choice. So yeah, it's affecting my writing.

However I still have the romance factoring in heavily and the sexy fun times remain.

It's interesting to see what's unraveling from my fingertips.

And frustrating because I don't write in first person POV*. I don't...but I am.

To be in the know:
*POV - point of view

Bad Student

2011-02-03T08:38:00.000-07:00

I have two writing online classes going on right now.

And to be honest...I don't give a rat's ass about either of them because my brain is imploding from the Chinook here. I'm riding into day 3 with a migraine from hell and the thought of 6 hours at work makes me throw up in my mouth a little.

I should be paying attention to the classes. I know this. I looked at the one on how to write a blurb with a "meh" feeling and didn't read a thing. Hopefully tomorrow will be better as I don't work so I can sleep IN. Yessssss.

And the plotting class? Yeah, I'm paying as much attention as I did in all those plotting workshops I attended years ago. In that I'm not.

I am not a good student.

Smarten up, Jenna...you need this stuff.

Covergasm

2011-01-31T17:17:00.000-07:00

I had a writergasm.

I had a covergasm.

I audibly gasped when I opened my email then squeeeed.

Because it is awesome. It is perfect. It is hot. It is sexy. And it is MINE!

Thank you April for putting up with me then not listening to me at all and giving me this because...oh lah...I love, love, love, love, love, love it

Now to learn to write a blurb to match the sexy awesomeness of my cover.

Back to School

2011-01-29T23:45:00.002-07:00

Apparently I'm delving deep into the workshops this month.

I've signed up for two. How to write a blurb and a plotting workshop.

And I signed up for a webinar.

What the heck is a webinar?

Guess I should Google.

Plotting & Scheming

2011-01-27T21:44:00.000-07:00

There is a feeling of triumph within.

I have plotted.

For the most part.

The only notes I have on plotting (because clearly that's how I write) are ten years old. I'm thinking there's gotta be a better way that what I did.

Time could be to take a course on how to plot.

I can't believe I plotted. I'm a pantser. I fly by the seat of them and hope something good comes out of it. You know like I trip and fall over the right turning point. What? Me? Plot?

Puh-leeeeeze.

But I had to this time around.

I gotta go brush up on it. Seriously.

But by God I did it!

Claire de Lune by Robert Appleton & Sloane Taylor

2011-01-26T00:01:00.002-07:00

When I first met Sloane Taylor, it was in Jan Springer's online course on how to write an erotic romance. Since then she's become a hot, spicy force with a whopping fourteen erotically charged romances that take us all over the world. FOURTEEN!!!! Holy smokes!

Her latest (number 14) actually takes us OUT of this world as she's hooked up with a yummy Brit by the name of Robert Appleton. Their joint book, Claire de Lune should be on EVERYONE's too be read pile. *looks around with a narrowed look* Everyone means YOU.

Check out the genres their book hits on: Science Fiction, Futuristic, Action, Adventure, Mystery, Detective, and Voyeurism. It's got it all plus a yummy Brit guy co-wrote this. Don't get me wrong, I heart Sloane. I do. But she's no yummy Brit guy. I could gush and mutter enviously (about the book...yeesh people) but the best way to convince you to read their book is to give you a tease.

Claire de Lune excerpt

Evelyn’s self-esteem soared like a rocket as she gazed into Gerry’s eyes. All the need and desire that filled him shone through. She liked him, maybe more if she were honest, and had wanted him from the moment his pompous ass walked into her hotel room. Being with him and initiating sex tonight was the right thing for her to do.

Gerry wrapped an arm around her waist, tugging her closer. Damn, his hard chest felt good against her achy boobs, but not as good as his rigid cock nestling into her belly.

“Evie—"

“Don’t talk.”

He nodded and traced his index finger along her bottom lip. She nipped the tip, then sucked it in, tonguing the pad until he groaned.

“Ah, Ev—” He caught her face in his hands and kissed her with a passion that ignited her.

His tongue toyed against the seam of her mouth, then delved in, a beautiful taste of wine and herbs, lapping and swirling until her knees trembled. With a regretful sigh, she pulled away.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No talking. It’s my little quirk.” She tapped his mouth, then took his hand and led him to the sand. After she stooped, she patted the ground, inviting him to join her.

Evelyn rose up on her knees and combed her hands down his chest, flicking his nipples until they sprang to life. Intrigued, she swiped her tongue over her dry lips and leaned into him, licking and sucking the copper-colored discs.

She continued lower to the blond tuft cradling his cock. Gently, she glided her thumb over his swollen head, teasing the drops of pre-cum from the slit to the sensitive underside. Her other hand cupped his balls, rolling the tight sacs with her fingers, taking pleasure in her teasing.

His hips jerked with each touch. Through hooded eyes, he watched, but did as she had requested and maintained silence.

On a rush of air, she gave his lips a quick peck and eased over him, holding her thighs tight against his frame. Heat emanated from his body, soothing and stimulating, a new awareness she longed to experience more than once.

Her breasts swayed close to his mouth. He stretched up and tweaked her pebbled nipples with his thumbs and index fingers. Cuddling them together, he licked and suckled the sensitive tips, first one, then the other. A deep shiver rocketed through her, increasing the ache low in her belly.

She teased his cock along her nether lips, loving the feel of his hot flesh grazing against her clit. In slow motion, she edged onto his shaft, savoring the inches that penetrated her wet vagina.

He rocked into her, clutching her hips, holding her in place. She locked her hands around his wrists and pulled them away, the need to set the pace paramount.

“This is so sexy I don’t want to come,” he bit out through clenched teeth.

“I do.” She slapped his hip. “Again and again.”

So uhm...yeah. What the heck are you waiting for? Go buy this steamy international/intergalactic read! Get the ebook here! Or the paperback here! I don't care what format you buy...just go do it!

I did mention her yummy Brit co-writer, right? Mmm...yummy Brits.

The path less traveled

2011-01-23T21:33:00.001-07:00

So there I am...mind my own business as I try to figure out this new story idea when I have the thought of "Is this first person or third person POV*?"

For me the answer is usually straight forward: third. I haven't written in first person since my high school teenage angst stories...and that was a long, long time ago.

So the fact that the question even came up made me pause. I started in third and it felt...wrong.

I set it aside, feeling a little grumpy.

Meanwhile Godaddy.com is stalking my email telling me a domain name I purchased a year ago is about to expire, it's going to expire, it's expired but you have until January 22 to save your ass and buy it. Without really comprehending why, I renewed it. I love the name, it's the middle names of my nephews - just girlied up a bit.

I mentioned to the Brazen Hussies (an awesome bunch of ladies) that I had done this and wasn't sure why. What secrets did this name hold?

Then Jan Springer replied that maybe it was a character's name and she'd get her own site because it would be a series.

Huh, I thought as I read that at work. Huh.

And then came the realization that this might not be a straight up erotic romance. Maybe it wasn't even paranormal.

Am I, I thought a little nervously, delving into the world of urban fantasy with this name that was going to be my pseudonym until I decided to stick with mine (for it is awesome)?

You bet your ass, I am.

Now to figure out how to do this.

To be in the know:
*POV = point of view

Congrats

2011-01-17T22:24:00.000-07:00

To Michal Scott who won a copy of Spurred On from my stint over at Naughty Novelists.

I confess...I kinda forgot between all the dislocating ribs and such that I had a name to draw on Friday. But I did remember and I did draw a name from my Hello, Kitty make-up bag (what? you don't have one?)

Oh These Sad Sad Words...

2011-01-16T22:29:00.002-07:00

Am not writing so there's copious amounts of writer's guilt.

I have no excuse. None. Got ideas but they die.

And they die hard.

With a vengeance.

Mmm...Bruce Willis.

It has nothing to do with me having the attention span of a...

Oooh shiny.

Vintage Vonnie

2011-01-11T10:20:00.000-07:00

Even though it's kick your ass through your nose cold, I'm over at Vintage Vonnie where I was asked some interesting questions.

Naughty Novelists

2011-01-10T01:24:00.002-07:00

This week I'm over at Naughty Novelists with Jessa & Luke.

Scoring Lacey

2011-01-03T23:54:00.000-07:00

Best tweet of 2010...

Best action of 2011 so far...sending in the signed contract to Liquid Silver Books.

Come Play With Me

2010-12-29T11:56:00.001-07:00

Today I'm visiting Sherrill Quinn's blog and I'm trying to solve the mystery to how I wrote a cowboy story.

Yee-haw.

Happy holidays

2010-12-24T17:59:00.000-07:00

Happy holidays to you and yours.

The blog will be more active now that the Christmas retail season is over (Yay! No more Glee Christmas album being piped through the speakers in the store!)

In Retrospect

2010-12-18T10:47:00.001-07:00

I should've taken yesterday off from work so I could enjoy my release day. Instead I worked my retail 8 hours, spent a lot of money at my staff appreciation day, came home, had a couple of slices of pizza, talked to my mom, stripped off the work clothes, climbed into bed and fell asleep for four hours before I woke up for 3 hours then had weird dreams about my childhood best friend's older brother while being stuck on a plane with another childhood friend and all we did was fight.

All in all I'd rather have been basking the warm glow of my release.

It's been so long since I've had a release, I forgot how emotionally exhausting it was.

So I should've taken yesterday off. You can bet your sweet bippy I'm going to do that.

A comment on Marie Tuhart's blog yesterday about my heroine being a Domme has had me pondering...why the heck did I chose that for my heroine? In general they aren't a popular choice. Now if the hero had been a Dom, things would be different. I'm gonna have to think about that choice...

Spurred On..Really!

2010-12-17T08:56:00.000-07:00

So today is here.

Finally.

The day I've waited and waited for.

Spurred On is now available to purchase!

No more coming soon, no more available on a certain day because today of all days is here!

What are you waiting for? Go shop!

He wears the spurs, but she's not afraid to use them.

Country singer and secret Domme Jessa Brody is home to perform at the Calgary Stampede and to brainstorm some new songs for her next album. Sexy bronc rider Luke O'Connor is once again the perfect inspiration for her songs and naughty dreams. Strong, brave and handsome, he's man enough to submit to her wildest desires. But can she handle the responsibilities that go hand in hand with being a good Domme, or will she lose herself --and Luke--when Spurred On?

Writing Roadtrip

2010-12-09T23:28:00.000-07:00

As I was sitting at work on my break, thumbing through the latest RWR I was gobsmacked with the realization that RT's Booklover is in LA next spring and the RWA Conference is in NYC.

I wanna go to both.

I need the money to go to both.

Odds are I'll only be able to pick one and the LA would be the easiest (re: affordable) to get there flight wise. Although Westjet goes to both.

Ahh the pressure of picking. I've already done the big RWA one in NYC and my only real excuse going would be to see friends in NYC and area. LA could factor in for the same reasons but I've never done RT and I'm very curious about it. I think RT would be more laidback then RWA.

Tough call. It will come down to the $$$...it always does.

But a conference...yes, I wanna go to one.

Revenge-ish

2010-12-08T20:44:00.000-07:00

I was using revenge as motivation for my newest heroine.

I wasn't liking it very much.

I just couldn't come up with a plausible reason for her revenge. Her motivation had to be enough to make her likable and instead she was seeming a little, well, bitchy and self-serving.

Erm...not the best thoughts one wants in regards to a heroine.

So I scraped that (and the 2400 words written) without a second thought because I don't want anyone to hate my heroine.

Especially me! Gads. What a nightmare that would've been.

Back to the wordy salt mines now that I've figured it all out.

If only finding a new title was as easy.

Writing a Romance Part 1

2010-12-06T16:15:00.002-07:00

When I think of all those books I bought, all the talks I attended...

Distracted

2010-12-02T22:48:00.001-07:00

It's been so sporadic around here lately. I'm such a bad writer.

Being distracted by the job, which is in retail and well...it's Christmas.

Being distracted by submitting to LSB. (Go Me!)

Being distracted by wounding myself walking home from last night's shift. Damn ice.

Being distracted by writing utter crap with my favourite hero.

Plenty of excuses and all of them kinda suck.

Can you forgi---oooh shiny.

More Spurred On News

2010-11-25T20:46:00.000-07:00

Spurred On has a release date!! Yahoo!!

December 17, 2010

Do you know what that means? Yes, yes, you can buy my book but now I can release my trailer!!!

Spurred On

2010-11-20T23:36:00.001-07:00

I'm a little excited to have an excerpt finally ready for Spurred On. It looks as if the editing is finally finished and now I wait on a release date. Until my singing Domme and her cowboy submissive are ready for the world, I guess a little peek will have to do for now.

****

Jessa straddled the rail, cupped his face and kissed him not so sweetly this time. Nipping his lower lip, she drank his groan before muffling the sound with a sweep of her tongue. He tasted of the yeasty tang of the beer he’d had at dinner. Fingers slid into the short strands of his hair and she pulled on the strands. A needy sound rumbled from him and she feasted on the warm, moist temptation of his mouth.

She poured all her want and need for him into him. His hand eased under her hair to her neck as he leaned in, his tongue meeting hers, dipping into her mouth. Jessa grabbed the front of his shirt as she tried to swing her leg over. She felt his smile as he reached down and pulled her leg over then stepped between her thighs.

Setting her feet on the taut curve of his ass, he tucked his hands under her knees. She rested her forehead against his and gazed into his prairie sky blue eyes. His hands slid down her legs then back to her knees. Her thumbs dipped inside the collar of his shirt, tracing the stiff fabric and the skin below. “Are you coming…?”

He sucked in his breath at her words.

“To my show?” She smiled as she caressed his neck.

“Which one?”

Her thumb rubbed along his jaw and a low, purr-like rumble came from him. “Both.”

“Do you want me to come?”

She stared into his eyes. “Oh yes,” she whispered as her other hand slid over the hard muscles of his chest. They bunched beneath the pale gray button shirt he had pulled on for dinner. “I very much want you to come.”

Chapter 8

2010-11-09T01:47:00.000-07:00

There is a certain amount of satisfaction in finally being able to write chapter 8 of my vampire ménage.

The same chapter 8 I've been stuck on for weeks...nay...months.

And now...I shall continue on into chapter 9.

That is all...

Proceed to hold a parade or throw confetti in the air or both in honour of this momentous occasion.

Go on...

I am.

Quiz

2010-10-31T20:59:00.002-06:00

How do you spell stuck?

For me it's:

C-h-a-p-t-e-r E-i-g-h-t.

Aurgh.

Still More Excuses

2010-10-30T15:00:00.000-06:00

I'm in the home stretch now! Just got the galleys done for Spurred On.

The real life job has kinda exploded hence me not being around here a lot.

I need to get a balance. New job - writing - blog - Twitter - whatever else I need to do.

Okay now that the galleys for SO are done, it's time to figure out why Unfettered (Robin's story) has become such a painful piece of crap to write.

Painful Little Truths

2010-10-26T21:32:00.000-06:00

I'm not neglecting you.

Really. No. Really. I still love you first and best.

But...

There's this guy. He's tortured and making a mess out of things because...

There's this girl who is making a mess out of things because he's tortured...

And they're having a lot of sex...

And messing things up. It's fantastical fun.

But remember...I love you first and best.

Really.

But...

Unruly Characters

2010-10-21T12:07:00.003-06:00

I'm supposed to be sleeping as I'm working an overnight shift tonight so I want to get my ZZZs in now. Unfortunately I have two characters frolicking in my head.

I have no idea what to do with them.

The heroine is Robin who makes an appearance in Spurred On. I was going to pair her up with Griff (also from Spurred On) but neither of them seemed to like that idea. So now I have a new hero and he's proving to be a tad bit difficult.

This is what I know about him....his name.

That's it.

I don't know where he comes from, I don't know anything about him because he's being decidedly tight lipped. When I first contemplated Robin's story, I thought she was the broken one. Now I'm thinking it's this new dude because he's giving me...nothing.

He is a vault. I am not a safe cracker, damn it. I'm a writer! Give me something, dude. Anything. A hint. Griff, the bossy bastard, tells me to leave the guy alone, which is ridiculous as I'm THE WRITER. I am the one who needs to be in the know. Not him.

I get phrases like "Back off" while Robin is told to stay far far far far far away from the guy.

Exactly how are we supposed to resist that?

*cracks knuckles*

I'm off to see what I can get out of this guy. He does realize if he gives me nothing, that makes him a disposable character right? I am the one with the power of the delete key.

Too bad I'm intrigued.

Damn it. Injured bad boys.

Temptation.

Critique Me...ish

2010-10-19T02:20:00.000-06:00

It's been a busy past week hence my magic act. It's a slightly pitiful bullshit of an excuse but it's the card I'm going to play.

For the first time in a long time, I asked (okay...she volunteered) a friend to critique a work in progress. I've been CP-less for a long time. It was one thing when I wasn't writing. What did I care whether I had a CP (that's writer slang for critique partner) or not? But now I'm writing again and she (alas) is not. I'm trying to tempt her back because she knows all my writing foibles and knows when to tell me I'm awesome. I've even used designing a new website for her as bribery. It only works until she starts to think about bills and such. Reality. Ain't it a bitch.

Finding a CP is a lot like finding the right pair of shoes. Sometimes they pinch the toes, sometimes they rub the heel, other times you just hate the velcro on them. (I recently tried on a pair of shoes of velcro with something akin to horror. What am I? 12? Thankfully they hurt my feet so I kicked them off.) Sometimes they even fit right but there's something a little off...

Not that I've been actively looking for a CP. As if they'll magically fall of the writer tree or something. *rolls eyes* I can wish.

It's a little daunting having someone look at your words even when you've known them for years and years (I can't even remember how long it's been since I "met" her.) Even when she admits to getting lost in the story, which "defeats the purpose of critiquing."

Hell, get lost, I say. That means it doesn't suck and neither do I. It's small drop of validation but my writer ego is greedy enough to take it and run around the block with it.

The next step is...submitting it.

Which is another level of terror I don't want to think about right now. Or ever...really.

Happy Thanksgiving Canada

2010-10-10T00:29:00.002-06:00

Adam Sandler - The Thanksgiving Song

3WW Hot Flash: Heatwave

2010-10-06T13:18:00.000-06:00

This Hot Flash Wednesday's three words are: lust, sheen and hint. They just made me think of hot, sweaty summer days even though snow is only weeks away. I know it. I feel it in my Canuck bones.

Heatwave

She knew if there were a hint of suspicion, lives would be altered. There was something addicting in pursuing this. Was it the sex? Or the danger? All she knew was that stopping was impossible.

Every time she saw him she got weak in the knees as lust pulsed through her body with a tempo beat of Want him. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t hers to keep. He was her bad habit. Some people chewed their nails, and others put drugs in their veins. He was hers.

He had left the air conditioning off in the hotel room. He always did. As if the heat in the room added to the dream world illusion. He approached her, moving like a jungle cat was trapped within his body. As his body pressed against hers, she smelled the faint cologne on his skin. Deft fingers opened her blouse as he gazed at her, sexy hunger burning in his gaze.

Already her skin tingled in anticipation for his touch. Wrong so wrong, she told herself even as she leaned into his kiss, taking his flavour deep into her soul where she could remember it always. Her blouse fell to the floor and as he drew her to the bed, he stripped off her bra.

He made her so nervous and not just because this was illicit and so very wrong, but because he was unlike anyone in her life. Sinking onto the bed, he looked up at her then before she could say a word or touch him, he grabbed her hips. With a powerful tug, he pulled her forward and toppled her to the mattress.

Impatiently, he shoved her skirt up to her hips and with a savage little growl, buried himself deep in her. It was never slow or sweet. Sex with him was all heat. Like his inner jungle cat was mating with her.

There were no nylons today. It was too damn hot for them plus there was the knowledge she’d be seeing him. Always she dressed with him in mind when they met. Shirts he’d have to carefully remove and skirts that gave him easy access. A cry escaped from her as he moved within her, his body undulating as if muscles were where they shouldn’t be.

The summer heat and lack of air conditioning, coated his body with a sheen of sweat so he smelled not only of cologne but aroused heat.

Every thrust made her writhe, every time his gaze met hers she burned. Could a woman turn to steam and ashes when a man looked at her? Or was it just the right man, even when he was the wrong one?

It was lust. Just lust. It was sex. Just sex. She repeated the chant to herself as she clutched his ass, her nails gripping the tight flesh as she came beneath him. Too much, she thought as he gave that little smile of his before he climaxed with a throaty growl.

He was too much. This was too much.

“They’re waiting for us downstairs,” she gasped as she fought to return to normal, to where she wasn’t this wanton sex kitten panting for each weekly glimpse of him as she planned his wedding to some umpteenth removed cousin.

~~~~

About 3WW

Trick or Treat

2010-10-05T16:33:00.000-06:00

When preparing for a road trip up to Edmonton, it always safe to find out if your Halloween costume is Greyhound safe.

Toy Weapons (if not realistic replicas)

Yes

BB guns (must be unloaded and secured in luggage)	No	Yes
Compressed Air Guns (must be unloaded with propellant removed and secured in luggage)	No	Yes

Good to know. Always good to know.

Now I can get my Walther PPK replica gun out of the gun cupboard at my mom's.

Now to just find a sassy, sexy holster for it.

The oops in my whoops

2010-10-04T18:40:00.000-06:00

I'm editing.

I'm ass deep in grammar-gators.

And I am not a grammar girl.

I do find in this editing process that I rediscover what I liked writing my story in the first place. Be it a scene where my heroine flashes the hero so she can win in hockey or their first kiss or the first sign the relationship is in jeopardy.

I love this job. Even the painful rewriting process.

Would it be nice to know where I put commas or semi-colons? Yeah. Would be nice to not write in run on sentences too. But I figure that's why God gave us writers editors.

But as I do my prelim edit prior to submitting, I like finding that I don't hate the story. That I like how my characters' journey turned out.

And finding I used the wrong they're/their/there is always a special treat. Or the typo of shit for shut. Precious. He shit the door just isn't good word usage, hm?