work in progress

unlike inbetween, which was a talking book, its sequel, underneath, is about walking around. there’s adventure, several ambushes, torture, and knife throwing. there’s a dark forest to cross, a dungeon to escape, and bad guys to vanquish. all of which is a lot harder to write about than tab’s feelings about robbin or lust for alex.

just describing where everyone is standing during a fight is enough to drive a sane person to madness and i did not start out sane. here’s a little excerpt from the fight scene that’s going to be the death of me:

And strangely, although I stood there dotted with blood from a recent impaling and Daniel and Alex were locked in some kind of deadly, magical  pissing contest, I was okay. The old magic that filled the room embraced me, soothed the bite of Daniel’s attack and left me completely blissed out. Which is probably why I didn’t notice the fact that the serving girls were rushing from the shadows, their red eyes glowing in the darkness, ready to rescue their king – or die trying – until they were crouched down in front of him, daring us to move.

“Hello Finnegan,” the beautiful one snarled.

He nodded to her. “Serena.”

“You came back.”

He shrugged. “Said I would.”

With her pale skin and slight frame, it was hard to believe Serena was a threat. But I could tell by the casual, bored to tears tone of his voice, and by the way he kept me pinned to his side but slightly behind him, that Finn felt she was. Later he told me it was stupid to confuse an opponent’s size with their potential to kick your ass.  Second best piece of fighting advice I ever got.

“And this? Is this really what you want to do?” she asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

The conversation was dense with subtext, leaving me on edge but in the dark about why.

“This is what I was born to do,” he replied.

That’s what set her off. Without warning, she leapt at him, growling, a fury of teeth and nails. He pushed me away, attempting to get me out of her reach. Unfortunately, I collided with the edge of the table then slammed into the tallest of the three girls. She rounded on me, punching me before I had a chance to find my balance.

I want to win, I thought. Got to stay on my feet.

Ignoring the ringing in my ears, I hit her back, hard, and she crumpled to the ground. When the middle girl left Daniel’s side to defend her sister, I picked up a crystal goblet and swung wide, snapping it neatly into her chin. She fell beside her sister and stayed down.

Tab Bennett 2, bad guys zip.

Edward with a Whip

Like so many American families, mine has been torn apart by an inability to agree on Team Edward or Team Jacob. My sister says Edward is a control freak and a stalker. I say Jacob is a potential date-rapist and a moron. She calls Bella’s feelings for Edward an unhealthy obsession. I call them true love. That’s why when she called to tell me about a book that was, and I quote, “a grown up version of Twilight” I was hesitant to get involved. I mean, why reopen those wounds?

Then, of course, I read Fifty Shades of Grey anyway.

In it a young woman meets and falls in love with an older, more experienced, gorgeous, tortured millionaire. He’s controlling, bossy, and inexplicably worried about her safety even before there’s a threat to it. He tells her he’s bad for her but that he can’t stay away from her. Then the girl befriends a werewolf—Wait. No, sorry, that’s Twilight. In this book they enter into a BDSM relationship where she is the submissive. They’re really similar books, which makes sense because Fifty Shades started out as Twilight fan fiction.

[Don’t you think  Stephanie “no sex ‘til we’re married” Meyer probably hates that? Edward with a riding crop? Bella handcuffed to a bedpost. That’s not just premarital, it’s deviant!]

As a general rule I don’t understand fan fiction. I don’t get the appeal. For me, it’s not the real (fictional) characters unless the real author is the one moving them around. For example, although Christian Grey talks about butt plugs and ball gags quite freely, I don’t imagine Edward Cullen could force himself to say either. That said, once I put the Twilight connection aside and got passed the massive overuse of the phrase inner goddess, Fifty Shades of Grey was an interesting read – full of sex and intensity and beautiful, emotionally crippled soul mates, which are like my favorite kind.

Also, I really dig it when something magic like this happens to a writer and suddenly, for no reason, their work just catches on. I heard that I could have found the whole story online for free with just a little clever googling but I was happy to pay for all three books in the trilogy. E.L. James has my thirty dollars and my congratulations.

the casting game

even though i have a book to write and kids to raise and laundry to do i am sitting here at my desk googling the pretty that is chris hemsworth. (it’s not because i have a crippling case of writer’s block.)

why? because instead of taking care of any of those things  i’m casting the movie version of inbetween and  i’ve decided he should play alex hilldale.

which brings up the question of who should play the other characters. for example, who is going to play tab bennett, our plucky heroine? not kristen stewart. she bites her lips too much.  megan fox? she’s beautiful but in a way i find extremely frightening. maybe phoebe tonkin who plays faye on the cw’s the secret circle.

[note to self: why do you know that?]

i have no idea who might play robbin turnbough but the part of george bennett will be played by jason dohring – due entirely to my abiding love for logan echols.

the tease

on may 1, 2012 inbetween will be available for purchase on amazon, b&n, etc. in the meantime, you can read the first chapter just by clicking here.

side note to aged relatives, pre-teens, and delicate flowers:  inbetween contains some naughty bits. let’s agree now that we’re never going to discuss them.

 

Love is exposed

When I was 11 my best friend gave me a diary for my birthday. It was a pretty pink book, the kind with the little lock and key and gold deckle edged pages.

I hated it.

My mother had warned me about the inherent danger of recording your feelings the summer before when I’d innocently asked for, and been denied, a similar volume. If you write down your feelings, she warned, there’s proof and, worse yet, the risk of exposure. As a kid with a massive crush on Johnny Depp, circa 21 Jump Street, this was the worst thing I could imagine. What if someone found my diary, picked the flimsy lock, and read all about my secret, tender feelings for him? I would die of embarrassment.

Now, of course, I want people to read my work. I hide my secrets in plain sight on the pages I write. I put my thoughts in my character’s mouths and let them say the things I don’t. It’s liberating and cleansing and the best kind of letting go.

That said, I have never kept a diary.