Life feels better if you participate. That’s the sum total of the knowledge I’ve
gained in many years of living. Writers
are often rather solitary creatures, living in the world they create in their
heads and on paper (or the computer screen in my case). One of the best pieces of advice I’ve ever
found in a writing book came from Julia Cameron, whose book The Artist’s Way reminds all creative
people that they need to refill their well every now and then. Pulling ideas, characters, motivations and
even actions from your head requires that your head be full of stuff,
preferably stuff that lends itself to molding in order to create those things
in your story.
Now, most writers have lots of stuff meandering
through their brain. That’s part of what
makes them writers. But no good writer
uses the same stuff over and over again.
In my humble opinion that kind of repetition is a good way to end up
with writer’s block. So we search for
ways to reignite our creativity, to spark the muse once again. The answer is right in front of us. Take your muse out for a walk. Make sure that walk is somewhere filled with
the kind of human interaction and eccentricity that just begs to be put down on
the page.
I’ve spent the past couple of days filling my well
with the kind of sights and sounds that spark the muse in me. This weekend my little town hosted the second
annual Aztec Highland Games and Celtic Music Festival. I’m talking kilts, ladies, and lots of
them. Guys (and ladies) throwing big
cabers, heavy weights and something called a sheaf. And music.
The kind of music that has more than a beat. It has drums, pipes and heart as well. My mind soaked in an ambience that created
scenes of Scottish Highlands, warriors, and earthy lust. The earthy lust part will go a long way in
finishing my work-in-progress. And the
image of some of the warriors will work nicely to create descriptions that hook
the reader into my story. Participating
in a weekend of music and musing has given me a fuller well to draw from along
with a greater appreciation of Scottish cuisine (the haggis made a memorable
impression). I’ve never written a
Scottish highlander story. Perhaps it’s
time to start one now.
Vampire Gates
McHenry has waited eighty years for a chance at sexy shapeshifter Ava
Harper. When she shows up at his bar
with a wolf trap and a nasty attitude, he knows the time has come to deal himself
into the game. And the stakes for this
game are higher than any he’s ever faced before because someone or something
has taken an interest in Ava as well. A
deadly interest. If he can find the
threat and keep Ava from staking him in the process, he just might be able to
make the move that will win Ava Harper’s heart.
Excerpt:
He grinned up at
her and a slow smile spread across her face, something that sparked a bit of
concern inside him. When she bent down
and leaned over him, he stopped thinking at all. Then she put those moist lips by his cheek
and he was glad he didn't breathe, for the feel of her against him would've
driven the air from his lungs. In spite
of his touted control, having her this close had him struggling not to reach
out and take what he wanted. His mind
started to wander, envisioning all the ways he could make her come, over and
over again, all night…
"What
the—"
His words were cut
off by the pressure of the stake tight against his heart. Ava leaned down close, that satisfied smile
broader now. The point of the wood aimed
over his heart nipped at his clothing and drove all the nude images out of his
brain.
"What's the
matter, gambler? Don't like the stakes?"
"You carry a
stake with you? Where the hell did you
have that hidden?"
Ava pointed to the
flowerbed by the porch.
"There. You were so deep in
your horny daydream I could've pulled out a Mac truck and you wouldn't have
noticed."
"Why is it
every time I try to get romantic with you, you whip out a stake? What have you got against having a good
time?"
She plopped down
on the ground next to him. "Your
obsession with playing almost got you killed."
Gambler's Moon Buy Now
The Prize Buy Now
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