Where do ideas come from?

The short answer to the question of where I (and most writers) get their ideas is: everywhere. Then add imagination, sometimes exaggeration, a dash of the author, and it can be magic.

For me, my stories start with a character and a simple element after which I ask "what if" to just about every aspect my imagination can create from those. For my first book, it was a character who felt like an outcast. My second novel, Gone Before Dawn, grew from a nightmare I'd had and was fed by research I did of my local area. Each element of it, the graveyard, the haunted apple tree, the mansion, all of it came from places I knew around my local area.

The Manipulated Evil Trilogy came about after 9/11 and what followed. I felt helpless which gave rise to a character who was anything but and a story that grew into something much bigger than I had ever planned. The jumping off point for Rise of the Arcadians was the dynamics of a big family inside global climate change and how cycles might change the world from what we know today. Among the Ancients started to form as I was researching ancient mysteries - like how did they move the immense stones that make up Stone Henge or the walls of Sacsayhuaman - and what would a man do if he was suddenly face to face with the answers? Or possible answers. :-)

The whole of the seven book Disillusionment Series grew from my constantly asking the question "what if" while researching the beliefs of the ancient Sumerians.

My next book, well, the idea for it started from something my middle daughter once said. A story where the bad guy might be good or the good guy might be bad or... well, you get the point. Pieces of other things are also filtering in.

Ideas can come from personal experiences, the morning newspaper or news report, research of the past, movies, other books, or anything at all. An author's job is to people the idea with unique and complete characters to bring it all to life and keep it as unpredictable as possible. The stronger the characters, the easier that is to do. So, I suppose, knowing a bit about human psychology helps a lot with that. Each personality will react differently to any given circumstance, and there is where the fun really begins...

Why do I write thrillers and fantasies

When I was taking my writing classes, the assignments required me to write several different types of stories. When they became more free for all, I wrote what I wished to write and it was always in suspense, thriller, or horror. My instructor asked me once to write something light and airy like a romance or a children's story. So I did. Let's just say she politely told me to stay with the darker genres lol. I just couldn't get the emotional feel into it that was so strong in my other pieces. Many of my stories do have a romantic or humorous twist in them, it's just never the main focus.

I had one early reader of my books, a woman who knew me from my childhood, ask me why I wrote things so "dark." I have to admit it perplexed me because I never viewed my stories as "dark" exactly. Sure, my characters are dealing with dire situations, but the overall feel of my tales, then and now, centers around hope and perseverance no matter how dark the situations get for the characters.

I don't know why I write in the genres I do, I just know it's where my writing is strongest and where my inspiration takes off. Thrillers, horrors, and fantasies are also what I choose in movies, books, and other entertainment as well. Fantasy is not a genre I chose and it started gradually, but it is where my imagination took me. In my fantasy books, I stay grounded in reality but can stretch it and have fun with the "what if" possibilities.

I'm not a "dark" person at all. I like to laugh, have fun, and play in the sun. But when I write, I like to keep readers on the edges of their seats until the very end. And that, I'm told, is a very good thing.

What comes first, plot or characters?

The very first book signing I did, I remember one customer asking me: what comes first, the plot or the characters? Without hesitation, my answer is and will always be the characters.

It is my opinion that without strong characters, a story feels empty. Readers must be able to relate to those in the tale; to build a level of concern, sympathy or at least curiosity for the person they are meeting within the pages. That requires a character to have as much depth as a living, breathing person.

To build those characters, I first decide where they've come from; what is their background? Then the question is: how do they feel about that, how did it shape them? From there it's time to decide what their dreams and fears are, what kinds of things fuel their anger or fear or give them peace. What do they love, what do they dislike. And of course, it never hurts to learn their favorite foods, music, entertainment, whatever is relevant to the tiniest detail of their lives. It's different building a character for a story set in the here and now of what we all know than it is for developing a character to populate a setting hundreds or even thousands of years in the future, but the principles all stay the same. It's imperative for the author to get to know them like a best friend. What kinds of foods do they order at a restaurant or carry in their supply pack, what do they do with their free time, how do they react to uncomfortable situations? And the list goes on and on.

That is where all my stories start. From there I throw a few incidents at them, ones which start propelling a story forward. It is their reactions to the few set things I know the story needs - dictated by what I know about them and their world - that drives its every step. And that is how my stories are known for twists and turns and surprises that are true to the characters, but unexpected all the same.

Why do I write so often in a male point of view?

Over the years I've been asked many questions about my writing. I've been writing -- seriously working the craft -- since the early 1990s. During all this time, some questions have been asked over and over - why I write in the point of view of so many male characters is one of them.

My first book featured 17 year old Codey Mathews as the star character. He was center stage and did not share it with a female lead. I don't know why, it was just the way the book unfolded. My second book featured a young mother, Cierra Lancing, but she shared the main stage with her confidant, Tristan Durant. It was important to show readers what was going on when Cierra wasn't with him. The Manipulated Evil Trilogy balanced out between female and male points of view but the girls won out by one in the end. Rise of the Arcadians, Desire and Rand shared that stage evenly, like Bryce and Kynly did for Among the Ancients. With the Disillusionment Series, it's also been fairly equal, but I have to say Tarenek has been the most fun to write, and yes, he's male.

I guess the answer is that I really don't have an explanation for it. I've never had anyone complain, but a few have been surprised when they discover I'm a woman. I write the characters as they come to me, not paying any attention to gender - only to character personality. The owner of any particular scene is the POV I write. In all my stories, I use multiple POVs to show readers the full scope of what's happening to change everyone. From there, it's just how it all works out.

The Beginning of the End

By now most everyone has heard at least a mention of the Mayan Calendar and the general assumption is that the end of their calendar, which falls on December 21, 2012, is also the end of our world. Then there is the prophecy of the Hopi Indians. And of course there was the movie 2012. There are dozens and dozens of other stories, articles, Youtube videos, and blogs on the subject. Theories ranging from world ending events to the arrival of a higher consciousness abound.

I would like to believe some ability of deeper understanding for us humans could come about by the end of this grand new year, but my logical side is more inclined to believe any change that may happen will be so undetectable it won't be noticed.

It doesn't mean it's all lost though. 2012 sure can fuel ideas for a fiction author, especially one of fantasy and thrillers like me.

So, while theories continue to build about the true meaning of December 21, 2012 (maybe they merely ran out of room on their stone, or the stone containing 2013 and beyond was lost), I'll work on finishing Retribution: Disillusionment Book Seven, the final book of the series before December, and starting on a new tale. Not sure if I hope for another series so soon or not, but I'll go where the characters lead. Whether there's an end looming on the horizon or a beginning, or maybe both, I'm looking forward and forging on with new goals and projects.

Hopefully you can do the same with your year. Make 2012 a good one.

Amazingly... stumped

Mankind as a whole tends to be viewed as advanced - right? I mean, we've populated a planet, erecting houses, skyscrapers and other constructions. We've electrified and lit up a good portion of the dry land so brightly it's seen from space, we've connected households around the world by the world wide web and multiple other miraculous achievements.

Yet, we misunderstand each other daily and fight over differences in opinions, religions, and just about any other thing we can disagree about. And on another level, one computer program to another can't run peacefully together, each car takes a different kind of wiper, oil filter, and the list goes on and on. Things are not made to work together, but to compete. Personally, I think, life is getting harder and harder because of it. Why can't we all just work together?

Oh, this latest run through philosophy my brain has taken, it all started with computer troubles. I pondered how nice life was before these horrible finicky contraptions we spend so much time on these days. I would have a little bit of an issue going back to an old typewriter or pen and tablet to get the stories that grow in my head out, but I could probably adjust and be better for it for having removed the stress of getting the programs all to play nice together - online and off.

So I sit and wonder just how far we have really come as a species. Seems like we still have eons of learning to do.

New Release

My twelfth novel has just come out. I have the first copies in my office now and expect the purchase links to show up for Curse of the Gods: Disillusionment Book Five to appear soon. I'm eager for others to read Tarenek's story, but am diving right into the polishing of book six and the writing of book seven to hopefully finish the series next year and start something fresh.

But for now, I'm focused on the Disillusionment Series - futuristic fantasy where mortal humans are fighting the gods to save their world. If you aren't familiar with it yet, take a peek. You might like what you find.

Chipmunks and Recovery

In 2003, we cleared out a small patch of woods and built a foundation for a doublewide trailer. We attempted to keep a couple grown trees in front of the house, but ice had different ideas and took one down the first few months we were in the house. It was the following summer that I realized a chipmunk (at least one) was living in the flower bed I built around the stump and remaining tree. That chipmunk, while adorable to watch proved to terrorize constantly over the years.

He caught my car on fire by bunching up a cluster of dry grass and sticks against the engine. He chewed off wires to throw the car sensors into a mess. He dug up roots to perennials I tried to plant, and bulbs never came up. He terrorized more by jumping out from under the porch each time you went out - squeaking and chattering to startle even when we expected it. I wondered when he would get bored of those pesky instances and move into the house to cause some real damage.

Our dog tried to dig him out. I tried to persuade him to move down back. We even transplanted one to my parent's house - completely by accident since he hitched a ride under the car somewhere. For a bit I had hope that the chipmunk was gone. It didn't take long for another to take its place. They were safe up here in front of the house, away from any predators. My daughter and I had standoffs with the chipmunk, attempting to chase him down, but those things can climb trees far too fast. The thing bordered on the fringe of funny to a little scary. I tried filling up his little tunnels all through my front flower garden. Tried laying big rocks over them, tried everything.

In amongst that time, my twelve year old suffered the loss of three dear pets to multiple skunk attacks - ducks she had gotten after a school project. Her oldest sister moved out. We lost a dear friend who walked out of our lives for no reason other than misunderstandings that left us fully in the dark. We lost security when my dad nearly died and his health remained hampered. We lost great grandparents, and had our faith in humanity shaken to the foundations for the mess that happened over my dad - a mess still not untangled yet. And there were dozens of dark little things too.

My youngest would grip me often in a tight hug and whisper "why does it all have to go bad at once?" I had no answer for her other than "I don't know, all we can do is carry on - try to focus on the small good things" while my heart broke again. She's only twelve and so kind-hearted. How do you make anything all right again, how do you help her feel safe again? I just hug her back and keep my teary eyes well hidden. Too much change or hurt too fast for all of us, especially my youngest.

Things are better now, but we are still balancing on a board that could tip one way or the other at any moment. The bad isn't done for any of us yet - things will continue to change drastically and leave empty spots for a year or so yet. I'm ready. I can only hope my youngest will be too.

This past week a family of four cats stopped by for a visit. One adult, a larger kitten, and two small kittens. I have no idea where they came from. They were not tame, running from us the moment they saw us. But my youngest would rush home from school and sit out on the porch to watch the kittens. Each day she did this until the one would go to her and purr under her hand. The other is close but still a little skittish. Then one day they were gone.

Cats don't stay around here long. We've lost more than I care to count either to wild animals, sickness, or other cats in fights. That's why I wouldn't get her one. I didn't want to see her heart broken again. She wondered about these two kittens she had befriended, but since they weren't technically ours, she wasn't painfully attached. Two days later, as I was making supper, I looked up to see the two little cats prancing across the road, headed for our driveway. I hollered to Shay that I found the cats. She rushed out and spent some time with them. Our visiting cats.

The chipmunk that has terrorized seems to be gone. Whether the cats "got 'im" or just chased him off, I don't know. I'm just thrilled to not have the little critter sitting all pretty on the stump, cleaning himself after he chewed off another plant or car wire. A constant little nag - now gone.

The cats seem to have gone back to wherever they came from again, but I'm fairly certain they'll be back for visits now. Could be they like Shay's company or the chicken bones she gives them. Either or, it works. And she's genuinely smiling again. For at least a little while, her mind is on something good again.

The chipmunk is gone for the moment and my youngest is smiling. All over the family of cats that just happened upon our house one day before the freak October 2011 snow storm.... Life is a mystery...

Ravyn of Tiernaine - The Unseen

Ravyn of Tiernaine (first person point of view, but the books are written in 3rd.)

Seriously, you want me to talk about myself? Are you kidding me? I don’t stick around long and am only here for one purpose. Things aren’t right. Something isn’t right, and I need to make sure it’s not what I think it is. Because if it is, if Rhynon has arrived, things won’t end well.

I don’t have time for things like this either. Have to look after my kid brother and sister. Promised I would. Promised who? Our mother, if you must know. No, she’s not around, hasn’t been for a long time. Enough about that.

I need to keep moving, make sure they don’t find me because if he gets close enough, I’ll have to break for it and keep him from finding the other Guardians. Don’t ask me about them, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you. Few ever do, course, not like we go around announcing who we are. Better if we don’t. Hope you never need to know about us.

I hope the same about D’Arcy, but he’s poking around, poking where he shouldn’t be. I tried to warn him off nicely, but it apparently didn’t work. I’ll have to stop him, somehow. If he can be stopped. I swear, sometimes people just aren’t all that smart.

######

Read the first short piece I (the author) wrote for this character HERE. The Escape didn't get a spot in the print book, but it was the first building block for Ravyn and her background.

Character Ramblings One

As requested, I've written up some small pieces from each of my characters to introduce them to the world in this blog. Characters are the most important thing in my writing. They drive my plots, keeping them fresh and unpredictable because the characters control it with their choices, choices that change as the story changes them.

I didn't realize how many characters I had until I started trying to do a small piece in first person (even though all my books are in third person) for each of them. Then the question became where to start. I decided to start with my well known Manipulated Evil Trilogy. The three books have several characters you will experience the story through. Kyle D'Arcy is the first and main character...

The Unseen, Scattered Souls, and Scorching Eden - the three titles of the Manipulated Evil Trilogy:

From Kyle D’Arcy of Earth, young college student from Pennsylvania, Altoona, Johnstown area.

~~~~~~~~~

Having your life ripped apart isn’t fun. I mean, if someone would’ve told me my old man was going to be murdered, I would’ve laughed at them. That stuff doesn’t happen, you know? Except it did, and then this woman shows up, I’ve never seen anyone like her, but man, did she have me. She flat out disappears, vanishes, but my old man had her picture in his wallet, and he’s not the type to go around with anyone like her. He’s a geneticist, cancer research, mostly, I think. Or he was anyway. Back when life was normal.

Now I need to find out who killed him and why. I have to find those answers. Can’t explain it really, but the second I saw that girl in person, things aren’t right, not as they should be, and that warning she gave me. What the hell was that, right? Appearing out of nowhere right on top of me after she vanished from in front of me with that threat she claimed was a warning – to not trust anyone in authority, to let my dad’s death go, that she’ll deal with the one who murdered him. Yeah right, and I’m not supposed to think she’s involved, or maybe even pulled that trigger.

I have a responsibility to find the answers. I may not have gotten along with Dad all the time, should’ve talked to him instead of avoiding him when he told me he had something he needed to tell me a couple weeks ago, but I’m sure going to make it right. She’s not going to get away with whatever it is she did…

~~~~~~~~~

Tarenek Brye Annis has arrived!

The Freedom Wars: Disillusionment Book Four is freshly released, just now popping up at the online stores such as Amazon and Barnes and Noble. The first printed copies of the highly anticipated book arrived on my doorstep last week for those who ordered autographed copies, and those who will order.

The Freedom Wars is the first title of the seven book series to showcase the grown son, Tarenek, of demigod parents and the harborer of a vicious power never before successfully contained in a "human" body. The question is, will Tarenek be able to defy the odds and his predicted demise, and will he be enough to keep Earth's people free of the slaving race that considers themselves the Pure Ones and the gods of the galaxy.

If you are interested in purchasing this or any of my titles autographed for yourself or as a gift for someone else, please visit my website at www.tcmcmullen.com or email me at tcmcauthor(a)hotmail.com for details on how (I removed the @ symbol to protect against spammers).

The natural order of things...

If I've learned anything lately, it's to not speak a date or time I plan to have something finished. I'm not sure why - if I'm being taught patience or if I'm subconsciously sabotaging myself, but ever since my return to work after some time away, nothing has gone as I'd like it to go. I'm still finishing things, just not to a schedule anywhere near where I first plan.

Then there are days like today. I awoke to a ringing phone after a night trying to sleep off a migraine. I struggled to pull my sleep-fogged mind to awareness and answer only to have someone ask for my husband. Um, no, he works. What time is he available? After dark most likely. Also most likely a lot later than I care to have the household phone ringing. So I gave the person his cell number. And that set the mood for the day.

The phone rang at least once every hour for my dear husband pertaining to a new business venture he is pursuing. At one point I had my business phone ring the same time the house phone rang at the same time I was trying to get my noon meal. After a while, at around 2 or 3 pm, I finally decided the answering machine could do the message taking job. I actually started to get some work done. I have a format on task, a cover to finish, my own book to finalize, a media release to prepare and pages on a website to update, and those are just the biggest things. I have no lack of work to occupy me. Then, as if by fate, thunderstorms rolled in.

At first, I ignored it, but then it started to hail and the lights flickered. And my internet went blank with the red light of death showing no signal. I'm not one for risking the computer, so I quickly saved the files I was working on and shut it down, grumbling. I was shut down from working by the weather after a day of trying to answer the annoying ringing phone. So, was that a sign I needed to veg-out for a bit? I don't know. I did get the kitchen cleaned, the dog brushed out (for a cockapoo, that's no easy feat), my art lessons organized, and the next lesson started. I suppose that counts for something.

I had a fleeting thought that I should write. I am a writer, and characters have kept me company often in the times of limbo between jobs or in instances like today. But the muse just hasn't been with me and writing without the muse is like pulling teeth. I also have two books of my own I must get out this year before fans start hollering too loudly. Next year I'll worry about finishing the final book of the Disillusionment Series. I did just recently finish a video for the series, so I am thinking about it and working on it. Just not writing it at the moment - or any moment longer than an hour or two in the last three months. Ugh.

Is there a message in the mess life seems? Should I revamp priorities, or slave from dawn to midnight to get things done? I don't know. I'm grateful for the things that are going right, for the good stuff, the cardinal and bluebirds in the yard, the food on the table, the clean water from the facet - and the fact that spring will arrive at some point. And the fact that the storms that came through here did not bring any hail larger than a dime or quarter and no tornado moved through unlike just a little west of us.

Gas prices, freaky storms, earthquakes, tsunamis, and more ... and all of that feels so much like what I researched to build my fictional Rise of the Arcadians. Oh - and mass deaths of migrating animals (fish and birds), and some are still laughing at the mis-named global warming that should have been called global climate change. Would it make a difference, probably not. But it doesn't matter. Life as we know it is absolutely changing. It's just that we don't all realize it at the time...

Now, I'll stop my nighttime rambling and go hug the pillow with hopes I don't dream of ringing phones.

Spring is in the air!

It warmed up again today here in central Pennsylvania, the sun beaming bright and warm through all the south facing windows - which is all but two at my house. We sure didn't need any heat on and it felt good to see things greening up just a little with the first emergences of daffodils lifting above the soil. Not so good is the piles of driveway shale that got plowed into the yard with the snow or the trees and limbs that came down over the winter. It's all visible now that snow isn't covering it.

I've also finished The Freedom Wars: Disillusionment Book Four and expect it to arrive on my doorstep early next week, about March 22nd. I'm really pleased with the cover and the first full color painting I pulled from my imagination and transferred to cover. Now I get to work on the 392 year old Tarenek for the cover of Curse of the Gods. I best get busy :-)

Unsteady Ground

Life changes. I mean, we all know this - right? Things can never stay the same forever. Children grow up. We grow older. Jobs change. Relationships fluctuate. Friends fade away. Loved ones pass away.

It's when everything happens at once that it gets harder.

In my younger years, just after I was of age to legally enter a bar, my cousin and I went out one night. We both had our first daughters at home but we took an evening every so often to get away for a little while. On this particular night, we weren't carded. In the car later, going home, we pondered this. Did we look old? No, that wasn't it. But we did act differently from others our age who had yet to get married or have children. Through the discussion we came to a conclusion.

It wasn't our appearance that labeled us older. It was that the younger ones still believed they controlled their lives. Us, at that point, we had learned that we didn't control a thing other than our reactions to the runaway train life really was. It was all about our attitude. And by 21, we had both been disillusioned to the fantasy that we controlled anything other than ourselves.

I've never lost that lesson. But I had come to believe in a certain safety - that things had a way of not coming faster than someone could handle. Recently, I've been disillusioned to that belief as well.

At certain times in life, things will lash at you. They will lash and lash until you are a mental bloody heap on the ground of life, begging for mercy, for it all to stop and let you catch your breath. And just when you think you can catch your breath, you'll get sucker punched again.

The key is to keep going, to pick yourself up and trudge on....

As the saying goes - What doesn't kill you makes you stronger. Stray strong out there.

Tis the Season

The holidays have always been a special time for me and my family. From the time I was a little girl, Christmas was a season where everyone packed into the same house - aunts, uncles, cousins at Grandma and Pap's house.

My memories of Christmas are of delicious food, rounds of laughter, and of watching how happy my grandparents were with giving to us grandchildren. As a kid, I suppose I never considered how lucky I was to be at two houses each holiday full of family, laughter, and love. I also never thought about how it would all eventually change.

It's been a slow metamorphosis, drifting away from the holiday at my grandparents house to being holidays at my parents' and my husbands'. As my oldest daughter now starts her own life, I realize things will soon be changing yet again.

Despite the changes, there are things I hold onto or do that began with my grandparents, and possibly with my great grandparents. The most elaborate is the village I do under my tree. While a lot of people, my childhood friends included, put their gifts "under" the tree, we always put ours "around" the tree. The reason is the full winter village that began with my grandmother making one gingerbread house for under one of her first trees. She told me once that her kids (my mother and aunts and uncles) liked it so much she continued to add to it each year. The houses changed to styrofoam structures that could be reused with small plastic people on tiny plastic stands, then to balsam wood with full figures of people. Mine is a village of balsam wood buildings I made from designs I came up with myself.

There has been a year or two where I considered not putting the many hours it takes into building my village but I heard quite loudly "you have to do the village" from at least one of my kids.

Then there's the sugar cookies that we can only make with certain cookie cutters that can no longer be purchased, so I have to borrow my mom's each year. The stockings and Santas are a must, but also a lot of work, first to get them shaped just right, baked, then painted with colored egg white then quickly covered with colored sugar and tapped to shake loose the excess. The stockings have three different colors - red, green, and gold.

And then there is Christmas supper (yes, here we call the evening meal "supper"). It's not ham or turkey - not those alone anyway. My dad's mother always did her "pigs" - pigs in the blanket. That's what we always called them - porcupine meatballs (meatballs with rice) wrapped in cabbage and cooked in a sauce that was mm'mmm just delicious. She always had a bit of vinegar sitting next to the stove in a fancy little flask easy to pour just a dash from. That crystal flask now sits on my kitchen windowsill, a treasure I will remember for always as being a part of Christmas.

This holiday I remember with great joy the smiles of my grandparents, of the parent and friends my husband and I have lost, and take in the new memories, passing on the simple joys of being with family and carrying on traditions.

For us, it's not about the gifts, but of the family and friends and fun we have together, not just on Christmas day, but through the entire season. I will miss those who are gone, and those who choose not to visit this year, but I'm very thankful for the new friends, and all my family.

Merry Christmas everyone! Make this season a good one.

Getting through

For all of us, there are times when life insists on being difficult. There's rarely anything we can do to avoid it or any secret recipe for getting through the rough stuff. The key to persevering is how you pick yourself up after the beating.

I've had my share of difficult, possibly more than my share. Some have left what feels like a dark mark on my soul and some have left me feeling stronger. All have taught me much.

Whatever life throws at you, just be sure you plow on through, reach for the future, keep your eye on family, friends, and small personal goals that can be as small as sweeping the floor one day and laundry the next. And remember that nothing stays rotten forever even if it feels like it will at the time.

After a few rough weeks here, I'm finally able to let my characters speak again. Even wrote a few hundred words last night. Starting small, and getting back into the groove...

That's interesting.

I've always loved the quote "Writing is the socially acceptable form of schizophrenia" from E.L. Doctorow. Considering I have several voices in my head at any one time telling me their stories, that quote fits quite nicely.

Tonight I've been informed that I also have CDD. I was wrong in my first assumption of what "CDD" meant, to which my daughter was quick to clarify. I apparently have "Character Divergence Disorder."

Okay, that certainly fits too. But I didn't earn this label until said daughter poked her head above my screen as I typed saying "oh no you didn't.... Nooooo..." and proceeded to tell me how bad I was for writing the beginning few paragraphs of a story that has been growing in my head for weeks while I've been trying to write Retribution - the seventh book of my Disillusionment Series.

Trust me, no one wants that seventh book written more than I do. But Aliski and Egan keep butting in to the point where ignoring them is nearly painful. My dilemma was made worse - ironically - by my daughter who took it upon herself days ago to describe a cartoon scene with me sitting at a desk, all the characters (seven of them and possibly one old half-blind dragon) from Retribution huddled together in a far corner, and Aliski with her vicious pet fisher standing in front of the desk giving them the evil eye. Nothing like giving bad-attitude antagonistic Aliski even more power. (A character whose name may continue to change considering she started out "Kaliska.") So this problem I have was reinforced by my wonderful daughter who has now labeled me CDD.

That's how it goes for me. To be honest, I'm surprised I've gotten through the first six books of the series before anyone else poked their head up from the mass of ideas always whirling through my mind. When Aliski did, it was to show me she had a very different kind of story than my usual. One that is looking to be an interesting one to do.

So which book will I work on tonight - that is to be determined by which characters yell the loudest.

When a Writer Gets Bored

My house is a funny place on weekend evenings. It's usually full of teenagers and a friend or two. My girls aren't typically aching to run out anywhere but are happy to stay home. For years, Friday and Saturday nights were good writing nights for me too - with one exception. The muse isn't all that thrilled to come out and play when I'm trying to force it to stick to something it doesn't want to do.

So here I am, the most entertaining thing on television being my girls playing Resident Evil 5 on the XBox (I mean that sincerely - they are entertaining to watch) - this after we cleaned and took care of some typical household things. When I watched my eleven-year-old dust happily away on the entertainment stand this morning, it felt good to know she actually enjoys shining up glass candle holders and polishing wood. We work as a good team in this house. A good thing or I wouldn't be able to accomplish half of what I do. But anyway, back to the subject...

I sit down with the intention of getting to work on my book. My muse is not happy with me though. It has taken off to create a book that was suppose to stay in the background until Retribution: Disillusionment Book Seven is complete, finishing the series. But my muse is telling me it's bored with the series and doesn't care that readers would be very unhappy if I don't finish it quickly.

So as I sit here Saturday night trying to occupy myself, my mind is at war. I have Retribution open, but there is no enthusiasm driving me to write it. I feel sad about that because I do love the characters. I'm just ready to move on to a different kind of story, one that doesn't appear to be quite so light and the plot looks to be a much more complicated weaving of character threads than Retribution.

Only time will tell which story will win out this evening or if I'll give up and go find something else to do...

All About Perception

We're preparing for our third annual Halloween party this year. We decided to move it forward in the month of October for a few reasons, the biggest being the weather. See, along with the party, we do a trail through the patches of woods on our acre and a half of property. It's not much, but with the trees and the paths we have, it leaves lots of options for some creepy little set-ups. Of course we have our graveyard. And we have our boneyard. We also have an infestation of spiders and madmen this year.

It's gotten bigger and more extravagant every year. This year more so than others because I've been working on ideas for it for months and I plan to be working on what I don't have time to finish for this years' party for next years'.

When I first started writing and my books were full of ghosts and psychos, people who knew me were a bit confused. Those closest to me of course weren't confused in the least, but so many saw me as a person who would like and write kids' books or romances. I like kids' books all right, read many to my girls over the years, but I could never write one. I like the darker, scarier sides of storytelling, even while writing my fantasy novels.

I had one reader ask me why I wrote things so dark. Dark - that word can mean so many different things, and after the conversation, I had to wonder if the reader missed the message of the story. Yes, the characters were subjected to some terribly scary things, but in the end, they prevailed. So is that really a dark story or is it a story of hope that any obstacle can be tackled, real or supernatural? I guess it's all in how you look at it.

So here's to all of us who like the spooks and monsters of the fall season but who look to the brighter side of things all the same.

Some days

I'm an optimistic kind of person. I mean really, I'm lucky enough to have several worlds to run to if one or the other isn't cooperating. During the school year it was never much of a problem. While the house is empty of everyone but me, I work. I consider work the jobs I do for other authors, the dealings with bookstores and distributors, the non-creative part of my career. The problem lately is that I'm never totally alone.

I'm hoping it won't take long to adjust because I have quite a few people who are not going to be happy with me if I can't get my mind on work to get it done in the quieter hours and start "work" on my own books.

I have a little difficulty calling my writing, revising, and art "work." It is - I have to treat it as such or else it never gets done because I'll be forever bugged by people who only leave me alone when I'm "working." And if I can't unload the bundles of ideas my characters heap on me daily, it's not pretty by the end of a week. Still, writing my own books, doing art that brings to life the images in my mind - it's fun. No, not all aspects of my chosen profession are fun. It gets tiring to constantly prove your quality of work to stores and readers. It gets tiring fixing database glitches in places that should be watching their own dealings.

Just the same, I still have days when nothing clicks, where my brain won't focus on writing, revising, editing, database listings, emails, or even reading for research. It's not anything so fancy to need a name like writer's block because it never lasts too long. This is one of those days. So, it's best just to move away from the desk and dive into something purely physical - you know, cleaning house, gardening, monster building (I'll save that explanation for another day) the kind of things that let my mind rest and reboot. At least I hope so.