Adventures in Bat Country

What do you do when you finish editing your novel?

Well, there are many, many steps to publication that involve querying editors, agents, and shopping your work around.

The trick to avoiding the post-novel depression is to keep writing. I didn't have any short stories I felt like writing and none of the other novels quite soldified in my mind and so I started writing the sequel A Wicked Messenger.

Other projects I am working on:

I have two sekret media-writing jobs out in the ether awaiting word from the editors.

I have a story I want to write for an anthology at the end of this month, but I am lacking inspiration. I'm going to watch a documentary tonight and see if it sets fire to anything between my ears.

I have an awesome idea for a novel that I've been working on in the back of my mind, but I am stuck because I can't find a name good enough for the main character.

I went through and caught up on the business aspect of writing.

It is a good life.

Novel Title: A Wicked Messenger
Goal: 90,000
Today: 1,200
Total words: 13,300
Research: Methane, Exploding Cows

Excerpt:
“Did they hurt you?” Nathan asked, horrified. “Are you still you?”

“She came upon me like a lion. Savage. Without mercy or care. I tried to fight.” She laughed hollowly. “I actually tried to use my cross to scare her off. I think I amused her. She asked me about you. Even then, I couldn’t hide what I felt. And when she bit it, it was closest I had ever been to the universe.”

“Are the other New Flesh around?” Nathan asked, hoping this wasn’t a full-fledged ambush. If this wasn’t a trap for him, would they use this distraction to attack the ranch and his family? He feared to mention it least it give them ideas. “Why are you here, Phoebe?”

“I’m called Misery now. I’ve been reborn in the fire of creation, Nathan.” She hopped off the boulder quickly, like a cat. “Phoebe died when you left her behind. All that’s left is the misery that lived in her bones.”

“If you are really in there, Phoebe, I’m sorry this happened to you.” Nathan’s fear intensified the flames. “I won’t let you suffer.”

“You have so much more to lose, Nathan. I saw what you did to Zeal’s hand.” Misery cackled. “He won’t soon forgive you, despite the prophecy, but he can vent his frustrations properly.”

He felt the horror of his worst nightmare realized. “Don’t hurt them, Phoebe. Please.”

“My name is Misery!”

The azure flames dimmed. “Misery, please don’t do this. Don’t hurt them. Grandma Loni and Poppa Ray are gentle and kind. They aren’t ready for this.”

Misery tilted her head, pulled back her hair, and listened to roar of a familiar engine. She grinned wildly. “Sounds like good o’ Uncle Marty is coming to your recuse. I wonder if anyone is watching the Ranch.”

“You planned this.” The fire burned brightly now that anger replaced fear. It was then that he felt a dozen pricks at the back of his head. One by one the blackbirds at the Ranch were dying. The sole image reported was the gaping maw of Acrimony about to swallow him whole. Nathan refused to let them distract him from the situation. “If you hurt them, I swear I don’t know what I’ll do.”

“Why would we hurt them at this stage? They’re perfect hostage and Marty won’t leave the Ranch until they’re safe.” She laughed. “He’ll die before he can collect on that cure for Borri. Ironic, no?”

“Nate! Nate!” Marty bellowed from the campground. “Are you here?”

Nathan turned slightly away from the vampire. “I’m down by the river.”

During the time that it took to mouth those words, Misery disappeared. Nathan made a solid scan of the area, trying to scene her presence, but by the time Marty had made it down to the river, she was gone.

“What sort of stupidity do you have, Nate?”

He didn’t have time to argue. “We have to go back. The Ranch is unprotected.”

Marty groaned. “Son of a bitch!”

Dead Bodies: Phoebe, Mrs. Higgins
Classic Rock References: A Rock Feels No Pain
New Magics: The concept of a primal Platoian in the dreamlands for concepts
Challenges: This was a strange scene. I hadn't meant to make Phoebe the newest member of the New Flesh, but based on some suggestions from Mario it really worked.

Late last night, I finished the last of the copy-edits for the Highway West.

I'm very proud of this novel. It took fifteen years to write and while I know it isn't perfect, it is my best and I am happy.

Now, I am struggling with the synopsis and the query letters. I've always felt a little off about trying to sell myself as a writer. This is a part of the business that I know I need to work at.

I've been reviewing agents. There are a lot of wonderful and talented agents, but I'm looking for the one that loves the same stories I do. The agent that wants to go down the same roads.

That said, I can concentrate on writing for a bit this afternoon and that always makes me feel better.

Novel Title: A Wicked Messenger
Goal: 90,000
Today: 3,020
Total words: 9,580
Research: Names, Myth of Theseus, Labyrinths, and Psychology of Mazes

Excerpt:
Thick darkness as far as Marty’s single eye could see swirled around him. He reached out his hands, fumbling, trying desperately to grab hold of something solid and real. Cold, moist stone brushed against the tips of his fingers. Gingerly, he pressed his palms against the curve of the structure. It seemed to be some sort of wall or fence. Marty brought his face close to the stone and sniffed; damp earth and dry dust, pungent moss, and decaying, dried mortar. He ran his hands along the curved wall trying to find some sort of pattern or clue that might help him discover his location.

Something had been cut into the stone with primitive uneven tools. Intricate geometric mushroom shapes outlined each other like a series of progressively smaller Russian Nesting dolls. He traced the grooves in the stone several times until he realized that once he got past the first shape that there were tiny gaps in the lines. This wasn’t just a series of shapes; it was a maze.

A shrill laugh that echoed all around him confirmed Marty’s suspicions. He only knew one being with the power to pull him into the archetypical dream labyrinth and had the proper motivation to punish him. The rattle of her raspy voice could never be forgotten. “Ariadne! It wasn’t my fault. I tried to stay away from her!”

Dead Bodies: None
Classic Rock References: None
New Magics: The concept of a primal Platoian in the dreamlands for concepts
Challenges:

One of the ways I've found that makes it easier for me to write a novel is to do a basical skeleton framework where I create all of the chapters and write bits in the various slots where I want the story to go.

I might write something like Chapter 15: Nathan and Marty fight the big boss and discover the truth about their family.

Sometimes I know what I meant. Other times not as much. I knew for Chapter One I wanted Loxi's mother to strike at Marty, but the motivation wasnt quite clear because I didn't have a clear picture of her. I do now and it makes bits in the story beautiful.

Novel Title: A Wicked Messenger
Goal: 90,000
Today: 1,660
Total words: 6,424
Research: Goddess of Labyrinths, Ways to Make a Land Santified, Protection Wards

Excerpt:
The murder of crows perched on the giant willow tree that overshadowed the house; one by one the blackbirds cocked their heads to listen to the haunting melody. Their approval was noted in their eerie silence. Marty Carver ignored them and plucked at the strings of his old Gibson guitar trying to remember an old song he once heard in a dream.

Dead Bodies: One Vampires, mention of another dead body
Classic Rock References: None Yet
New Magics: A guardian spirit / golem

Writing a sequel is very difficult. I've never tried it before. I kept messing with the title and I realized it was too on the nose.

And then, like a blaze, the central metaphor hit me and the title sprang forth from my head. The new title is A Wicked Messenger.

Here is another fun fact about the writing process. Shortly after finishing The Highway West, I had a case of Bell's Palsy. I commented on it here and there that it would appear in my fiction. Marty suffers from those symptions in the opening chapter due to the events of the previous book.

Word-Count: 3,502.