A Little Miss

Hi guys!

Sorry about the impromptu hiatus last week. But I’ve got a good reason. 

I would like to introduce Loraina Fable, born right on her due date. 

We had planned to try a VBAC this time around, but things didn’t turn out that way and we ended up doing another C-section. This time was considerably better than with Henry though, as I was able to be awake during the procedure and interact with her right after she was born. Recovery has been much better also. 

We’re all home and happy now, and big brother is absolutely thrilled (though he’s a little put off that mommy can’t rough house or drive him to the store because a doctor cut a hole in her tummy).

Little miss Lorie is a doll, and we’re so blessed to have her. 

Needless to say, I haven’t done much besides change diapers, feed kids, and try to sleep. I’ve got several new books screaming at me, and I can’t wait to dive into them (feeding a baby gives a perfect opportunity to read) but I’ve been fighting migraines caused by the spinal anesthesia and focusing on a page is a no-go. I’m hoping those wear off soon though and I can soak in some good reading and maybe get some more work done on The Queens Three. 

For anyone wondering, Jarod chose Loraina based on Lori from the Lonesome Dove movie, and I picked Fable because it loosely means story. 

Obviously I would love a daughter named story. It was as close as I could get to a literary name without picking an actual book character. (Although Lonesome Dove was a book first, and I hear the protagonist in Adrienne Young’s next book is named Fable. So that’s a win.) 

The plan now is to get back to blogging weekly like I’m supposed to. I shall try. 

What have you been up to? Would you name a child after a book character? 

The State of the Realms

Hello everyone! 

Still no baby, just in case you’re one of the people who keeps asking me. I promise, I will announce when she is born. I will not be waiting weeks to mention it. 

In a random burst of inspiration (nesting hormones?) I’ve been madly revising The Mad Hatter. 

I’m actually pretty much certain it’s the nesting hormones driving this effort. Which is a double edged sword. On the one hand, its spurred me to add multiple new chapters and beef up the word count, working my way to the halfway point in about five days. 

On the flip side of that though, there have been multiple times where I was just about to dive into a new scene when suddenly I was struck by an inescapable need to wash all of the baby clothes and fold and put them all away. Now. 

It’s been a bit of a rollercoaster. 

Things are progressing nicely though. In the most exciting news, it received a new title. The Mad Hatter is now The Queens Three. 

Which brings me to the next notable change: Bunny and the Queen of Ravens now each have their own points of view in the story. 

It’s been super fun and super difficult to dive into each of their personalities and give them distinct voices and reveal more of what makes them tick. It’s not perfect, but I’ve gotten some good feedback and can’t wait to flesh them out even more. 

It’s really fun getting to spend more time in the fae realm (which needs a real name) through them. 

Molly’s boyfriend, Matt, got a new name. He’s currently Brett. There were too many M names running around the place. I’m not sure Brett is the winner though, so it might change again before I’m through. 

The word count is creeping up. Not quite where I want it, but it’s definitely improving. 

One thing that’s been a relief (and worrisome) is I haven’t found any major plot holes or useless threads. A few clarifications and tweaks yes. But gigantic glaring issues? No. It’s rather strange. 

But then again, it comes with the territory. 

Hello New Year

Happy 2020!

I wanted to have a prolific post for the new year. Or even a lighthearted one full story of Roaring 20s references. 

But the sad fact of the matter is I’ve hardly slept since before Christmas, I feel like a half dead dog who’s been run over by a semi truck and run through a meat grinder (twice) and I just don’t have that poetic and witty post in me. 

I just read through last year’s first post and it could almost exactly be used for this year as well. 

We’ve got 15” of snow, we’ve had the usual Christmas gatherings. 

But some things are totally new. We’re in a new house and I’m loving it. Our new baby will be joining us in just a few weeks. Life is good. 

Yes, there’s been stress, but there had also been growth. It’s been a wild ride of a year. I’m excited to see what this new year brings. 

I’ve got a few goals, but I don’t know that I’d call them resolutions. I haven’t been writing this past month, and I want to get back to it. Blood and Dust is out on query again, and I’m hoping to revise Mad Hatter and Bad Boy in the meantime. If I’m really ambitious maybe I’ll even draft the Viking story, but we’ll see. 

I want to get some more things set up and decorated with the house, and I want to enjoy this new season of motherhood. 

I want to learn (again, because it never seems to stick) to be happy and content. To give the reins to God and not be so determined to fight my own battles. Or create them. 

So here’s to 2020. Let’s do it. 

The Sound of Brain Cells Dying

Would someone please tell the pregnant lady with the brain fog that she’s supposed to blog on Wednesday’s? 

Flash Fiction

Hi guys! 

Recently I’ve joined in a few flash fiction/short story prompts, and had a lot of fun. 

These were just in comments on posts and such, not actually featured on anyone else’s blog, so I can post them here. 

The first happened on the Story Embers forum, and it was supposed to be a genre mashup of western and psychological thriller. 

I’d never done anything thriller, psych or not, so I was kind of lost, but I tried to really play on the sense and things that would get in a person’s head. 

Pinterest 

Spurs:

Spurs jingle on the wooden boardwalk with every step, scraping my nerves. 

Chink. Chink. Chink. 

Lanterns swing from the awnings of businesses lining the dusty street, casting shadows that loom and shrink back like uncertain predators, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. 

I duck into the nearest open door—a saloon, with only slightly less shadows. The shadow of a man passes the doorway and the spurs go chinking on by. 

I cross the room to the back, the sawdust coating the floor biting at my nose. 

I settle down at an empty table and study the few other patrons. A tired looking saloon girl, sitting upright and rigid like her red costume is made of iron.

Two men at a card table, but neither one shows any signs of playing the cards laid out in front of them. 

The barkeep keeps his gaze firmly fixed on the glass he’s buffing. I don’t really want a drink anyway, but it’s strange he doesn’t offer.

In the back corner opposite me a lone figure with his hat pulled over his eyes plays a mournful fiddle, the bow scraping along the protesting strings, almost as frayed as my nerves. 

Jitters drive me back to my feet and I step out onto the rickety sidewalk as a clap of thunder shakes the sky and lightning illuminates the places the lamps won’t reach. The darkness that follows is dense enough to feel and I linger where the lanterns cast a reassuring glow as rain starts to pelt the dusty landscape. It rattles against the windows and overhangs, puffing dust into the air until the whole street is saturated. 

Thunder grumbles grudgingly and water starts to run in little rivers down the packed street. 

Probably be another gully washer...maybe even a flash flood. They’re common this time of year. 

Time to find some cover on high ground. 

Whoever built this ride-through town must have been a tender foot. It sprawls in the back of a long valley, coming down out of the lonely mountains on the horizon. Lightning dances across their gloomy peaks now. It won’t be long before all that water comes rushing right down to the front steps. 

I start back the way I’d come, toward the livery stable. I’d hoped to get a room tonight, but prospects are slim. I’ll bed down in the hayloft, safe from water, and close to my gelding if I needed to swim out come morning. 

The water is already ankle deep on my boots as I step off the boardwalk. It sloshes and ripples, melding with the crack of lightning overhead into a deafening chorus that drowns out all sound. But I thought I heard...

I turned to face the street behind me, and wait for the next lightning strike to illuminate it once again. But the street is empty, and no one else is on the walks. 

I could have sworn I heard those spurs again...

I slosh across the street and shove the barn door open just enough to slip in, before closing it again. Water already seeps in underneath, mingling with the straw and dust. 

Inside the barn is pitch dark, but I’m not anxious to light a lantern. I feel my way down the aisle to the third stall. It’s at the back, but there’s a smaller door that I can fit an unsaddled horse through if need be. 

My gelding nickers softly as I slip into the stall with him. I gently run a hand down his neck, then adjust my gun belt, slipping the thong off the hammer. I watch the front door a long minute then settle down in the dusty straw at the gelding’s feet. His breath snuffles over me, and then he goes back to contentedly munching the hay in his manger. 

I strain my ears for any sound, but all I hear is his chewing, the steady breathing of the other horses, and rain drumming on the roof. Along with my heartbeat. 

They can’t have followed me this far. I rode halfway across the country, up and down back trails no sane person would ever take. I’d left no trail. Spoke to no one. I’m just being paranoid, that’s all. Besides, the money isn’t here any way. No one can connect me to it. Not way out here. I tell myself that over and over again, but it does nothing to calm my heart. 

But a sound from outside stills it. 

Chink. Chink. Chink. 

I slowly shift into a crouched position, sliding my pistol out of the holster. I force my breathing to slow, placing a steadying hand on the geldings shoulder as I stand and lean against his neck, gun ready. 

I don’t know who is out there. But coincidences don’t follow you around in a storm. It’s going to end right here and I’m getting out of town tonight. The rain will cover my trail. I’ll disappear. 

The barn door creaks, but it’s too dark outside to see if anyone comes in yet or not. 

I ease the hammer back. 

Chink. Chink. Chink. 

This one is from Cassandra Hamm’s prompt contest on Instagram. You can find more on her page @cassandrahammwrites. 

The theme is water, and it had to include the line about sharks. 

Pinterest

Blood Prince:

Blood clouded the pearlescent water, calling to predators far and wide. 

But he was the predator here.

Aktan waved one of four arms at a school of fish with sharp teeth almost as long as their bodies protruded from fluorescent blue mouths. 

They hurled backwards as if caught in a current and he turned his attention to his broken and bleeding lower right arm. Those humans would pay for this. 

Bubbles rose from his lips, sending a haunting melody through the thick waves, and his pale green skin knit back together. 

The sharks approached him nervously, respectfully. The bloodlust had gone from their deep expressions and an immense curiosity welled in their somber eyes. 

Aktan grinned at them, spreading his arms to create a cloud of blood and bubbles around him. 

“Who would like a taste of revenge?”

And now on to the other fun stuff...

To Be Announced:

We are finding out baby’s gender this afternoon, so stay tuned to my social media if you want to know!

Do you write flash fiction? Do you have a vote of boy or girl?

Do tell.