Vampires: I love 'em--scary, wimpy, ugly, and yes I'll admit it, sparkly as well. There's just something about the blood suckers that does it for me, and that "something" is dangerous and sensual.
I'm a little reserved. Well, maybe a lot reserved and going out of my comfort zone is a total rush for me. Just getting over the butterflies and taking a chance in asking the guy at the counter at Border's where the fantasy section was took massive guts for me. I haven't gotten the courage to scope out the erotica section yet. But I'm hopeful and I totally realize I'll never get anywhere unless I take chances.
Enter the rewrite from hell. Yes, I'm attempting yet another rewrite of the first installment of my vampire trilogy. I'm striving to get this right but the main reason is, I'm totally in love with my characters (you may get a peek on Teaser Tuesday). These characters are a little like me, and a whole lot of what I'd like to be. I need to tell their stories and the majority of the next couple of months will be spent on doing just that.
I have other works in progress, but my vampire novel is my first love and I'll always keep coming back to it. Just hope it doesn't turn out to bite me in the . . .
Showing posts with label work in progress. Show all posts
Showing posts with label work in progress. Show all posts
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Teasing . . . .
It's Teaser Tuesday!
That's right. I shall try to tantalize you with a snippet from one (of nine, Eek!) of my works in progress. Just remember, this is a first draft, so it's likely not perfect by a long stretch. Here goes.
This is a snippet from "Tell Me You Love Me". For those who haven't read about Christine before, she's been kidnapped by a psycho slasher dude. He's left to chase after someone, leaving Christine tied up and Loni (who he thinks is dead or close to it) lying on the floor. There is some bad language in this. Thought I'd warn you before you fall off your chair.
“Bastard,” she said as she sliced through the rope.
As soon as my wrists were free, I grabbed Loni’s hand and ran toward the open front door. Headlights came down the driveway.
“Back door!” I pulled Loni behind me through the make-shift dining room/torture chamber, trying not to look at the assortment of knives, chains, and plastic sheeting.
Loni was looking behind her, slicing the knife through the air as I opened the first door we came to.
“Jesus fucking Christ!” The scent of rotting flesh and vomit poured out.
Loni gagged as we stared at the dismembered women soaking in the bathtub. A chainsaw was propped up in the toilet. A fifty gallon drum of muriatic acid stood in the corner. Meat hooks hung from the shower rod—remnants of flesh still draped on them.
I hoped the next door was the way out.
Loni’s hand clasped her mouth; vomit spewed from between her fingers. I grabbed her arm and ran to the next door pulling it open.
Loni went out first, falling down the four rickety steps into a vat of mud. The lunatic’s footsteps ascended onto the front porch just as I eased the back door shut behind me.
That's right. I shall try to tantalize you with a snippet from one (of nine, Eek!) of my works in progress. Just remember, this is a first draft, so it's likely not perfect by a long stretch. Here goes.
This is a snippet from "Tell Me You Love Me". For those who haven't read about Christine before, she's been kidnapped by a psycho slasher dude. He's left to chase after someone, leaving Christine tied up and Loni (who he thinks is dead or close to it) lying on the floor. There is some bad language in this. Thought I'd warn you before you fall off your chair.
“Bastard,” she said as she sliced through the rope.
As soon as my wrists were free, I grabbed Loni’s hand and ran toward the open front door. Headlights came down the driveway.
“Back door!” I pulled Loni behind me through the make-shift dining room/torture chamber, trying not to look at the assortment of knives, chains, and plastic sheeting.
Loni was looking behind her, slicing the knife through the air as I opened the first door we came to.
“Jesus fucking Christ!” The scent of rotting flesh and vomit poured out.
Loni gagged as we stared at the dismembered women soaking in the bathtub. A chainsaw was propped up in the toilet. A fifty gallon drum of muriatic acid stood in the corner. Meat hooks hung from the shower rod—remnants of flesh still draped on them.
I hoped the next door was the way out.
Loni’s hand clasped her mouth; vomit spewed from between her fingers. I grabbed her arm and ran to the next door pulling it open.
Loni went out first, falling down the four rickety steps into a vat of mud. The lunatic’s footsteps ascended onto the front porch just as I eased the back door shut behind me.
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