roh morgon

~ musings of a moonlight writer

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Yay! It’s fight time! Thanks to J. C. over at The Fighter Writer who’s hosting the Fight! Fight! Fight! BLOGFEST! Be sure to visit her site and check out the other fighters in the ring.

I love fight scenes. I’ve been mulling over what to enter for this blogfest–I’d hoped to write something new, but just don’t have the time. Since I’ve featured a few excerpts/alternative scenes from Watcher lately, I’ve decided to give you all a taste of something a little different.

This is from the Forbidden Doorways young adult series I’m working on. The characters are Mason, a rather nasty vampire, and Crit, his reluctant shapeshifter partner.

Enjoy…

~~~~~~~~~

“Crit, they’ll be waking soon and we are completely unprepared. Keep a watch over them ‘til I get back.”

Groaning, I nod again. I hate being there when newborns first wake up, especially if Mason’s not. But I can generally tell when it’s useless to argue with him, and this is one of those times.

He walks to the door and looks back at me.

“Don’t leave them alone or they may turn on one another. You need to be in there, now, in case they wake early.” He pauses. “And stay out of their teeth.”

Giving him a mock salute, I head to the back room as he slips through the alley door.

~~~

The darkness of the small room has an eerie feel to it. I turn the lock on the outside of the door as I walk in, then close it behind me. My leg bumps the table. I grope its surface for the flashlight and, finding it, flip it on. The beam bounces around the room, coming to rest on the graves.

Good. There’s no sign of movement yet.

Turning, I kick the floor bolt closed at the bottom of door and set the flashlight back on the table.

I shift, tissues squirming, compressing, and the bones click into place. The inky feathers feel so weird as they burst through my skin, much weirder than fur. A big shudder settles them into place, all but one that’s poking me, and I reach under a black wing with my beak and smooth it out. A second shake and I push up into the air to hover at the top of the door next to the upper latch. Wrapping a foot around the knob, I tug it and it falls into place. I drift down, then circle back up to the perch anchored into the wall near the ceiling and settle onto it to wait.

Mason better get back here soon. He should’ve let me round up dinner, like I usually do. One vamp wakening I can handle, but I don’t know about two, especially a couple. I dunno why he decided to do this– a couple is always more difficult to deal with than two people who didn’t know each other.

Sounds from below interrupt my musings and I fix an eye on the graves. Bits of soil are starting to tumble down the mound closest to the wall. Brent.

Aww, crap.

A hand shoots through the earth, startling me, and waves around in the air, then is followed by the other. They drop, and feeling the soil around them, start clawing it away as fast as possible. Brent’s torso bursts through the surface and he sits up. A squawk escapes me as I nearly fall off my perch. This stuff still creeps me out, no matter how many times I’ve seen it. Blinking, he brushes the dirt from his face and looks down at the lower half of his body that is still buried.

“Uhhh…” Black eyes wide, he panics and launches himself out of the grave. He hits the door and starts pounding on it, still making the ‘uh’ sound. After several minutes he spots the doorknob, grabs it and pulls. He keeps pulling, jerking it back and forth, but isn’t thinking enough to try and turn it. He goes back to pounding, then switches to yanking.

Lame brain in life, he’s even lamer in death.

He finally stops and looks around the room, then starts circling it mindlessly, round and round, like an animal in a cage. Which basically he is. Wonder if his brain is going to kick in at all.

A sound from the middle of the floor snatches my attention away from Brent.

Uh oh.

The soil moves and goes still for a moment, then Kelly explodes out of the mound. Brent shrieks and tries to hide in a corner as Kelly hits the door, hard. She pounds twice, grabs the knob, and gives it a single tug before trying to turn it.

Oh, bad sign. They don’t usually remember how to work doorknobs right outta the hole.

She looks closer at it, then notices the latch at the bottom of the door and starts kicking it.

No problem with her mind, which could be a big problem for us. We count on them being zombied when they first wake–it’s easier to control them. It usually takes a few days before they start to think again.

Kelly stops kicking and looks around the room. She zeroes in on Brent, who’s nose-first in the corner stepping back and forth, still making that ‘uh’ sound. In a flash she crosses the room, grabs his hair and yanks his head back.

He screams and shoves off the wall against her just as she’s opening her mouth to bite him. They both go down into the dirt, and I’m on them, beating their faces with my wings in an effort to distract them from one another.

I squawk as one them gets hold of my tail feathers and barely manage to pull myself free. I fly back up to my perch as Brent, still lying in the dirt, examines the feathers. Kelly rolls away from him then turns, seizes his arm and sinks her fangs into it. I dive down into her face and she snarls and grabs at me as I flap away.

But I’m not fast enough. She catches my wingtip and yanks me down. I hit the ground shifting and she lets go. Her surprised expression is quickly replaced by that of bloodlust at the sight of my human form. I barely shift into the wolf in time to leap to the other side of the room.

But now I’ve got Brent’s attention as well, and as the bloodlust flares in his eyes, I realize I’m in big trouble. I double-shift back to the raven and hurl myself into the air just as they both launch at me. I feel the brush of fingertips as I push higher. With great relief I settle back onto the perch. Beak open, I pant from the efforts of the last several minutes as I watch them circle below me.

Kelly studies me a moment, then suddenly springs straight up and grabs the perch. It snaps off from the wall as I take wing and she smiles at me in triumph.

This sucks. I can only stay in the air in this small of an area for so long.

A tap from outside the door is the best thing I’ve heard in awhile and I start cawing up a storm. Mason unlocks the door, then slams into it. The latches I’d installed tear through the wood as the door bursts inward and I hightail it out into the warehouse and land.

“STOP!” Mason roars.

I listen with satisfaction as first one body hits a wall, then the other. Shifting into the wolf, I race back into the room.

~~~~~~~~~

© 2010 Roh Morgon. All rights reserved.

I had decided not to commit to this blogfest, especially in light of the fact that I missed the Weather Blogfest and barely made it to the Rainy Day Blogfest (you can check out my entry here if you missed it).

But then this scene came flooding into my head, and I had to write it.

When ya gotta write, ya gotta write.

So here’s my entry for Dawn Ember’s Word Paint Blogfest – be sure to visit her site to read the other entries.

This is an alternate scene from my WIP, Watcher, the story of Sunny Martin and her struggles to survive in a personal hell from which she cannot escape.

Hope it’s been a little while since you had breakfast (or lunch).

~~~~~~~~~

A red river tumbles over me, creating eddies around the angles of my body. I lift my head from the crimson flow, gasping, choking, as I struggle to escape its sticky clutches. My arms claw the air in vain, and when I open my eyes, all I can see is a wall of blood bearing down on me. As it crushes me, shoving me deeper and deeper into the thick torrent, I scream.

I’m still screaming as I climb from the coma-like sleep that the sun forces upon me every morning. The horror coursing through me is nothing compared to the hunger burning through my veins. It rips through my belly into my throat, its fiery need sending waves of agony into my very soul.

Nicolas appears next to the bed, concern etching his brow.

“Oh, Nicolas! What’s happening to me?!” I cry as I fling myself into his arms.

“Sshh, my sweet. It is just a blooddream.” He strokes my hair, as though calming a frightened horse. My body responds, as it always does to him, and begins to relax.

He eases me back, his eyes searching mine, and asks, “Haven’t you had them before?”

“No,” I whisper. “Never.”

His silence tells me this is unusual, and I can visualize the checklist in his head as he adds another item to the list of my oddities.

The hunger flashes through me, reminding me that it will never let me go. I press myself tight against his chest, and as he wraps his arms around me, I know he’ll never let me go, either.

It’s a heavy price for his love, and sometimes I wonder how long I can pay it.

~~~~~~~~~

© 2010 Roh Morgon. All rights reserved.

(special note - today is a nine-day for those who care about such things!)

It’s kinda hard to think about rain right now. It’s over 100° F  outside and temps are expected to reach 103° by this evening. Not a cloud in the sky…

But today is the Rainy Day Blogfest, hosted by Christine at The Writer’s Hole, so to help remember what it’s like to be cool and damp, I’m featuring a short excerpt from my WIP Watcher. We join Sunny just after she’s had ‘dinner’ and is feeling content for a change.

To help set the mood, here’s a quiet little piano tune by Justin St. Charles and Nine Inch Nails:

It starts to sprinkle as I run along the shoreline of Lake Cachuma. I don’t care. Being wet doesn’t bother me and neither does the cold. In fact, sometimes I find the cold invigorating. Warmth, on the other hand, is quite pleasurable, especially on the inside after a hot meal. Warm days are great too, if I can protect my skin from the direct sun, which isn’t easy. People look at you funny when you’re wearing a long-sleeved turtleneck and gloves and it’s 90 degrees outside.

Jogging back to the BMW, I catch the scent of wild pig and veer off to follow it. Pigs are tough to kill because they’re so low to the ground and their barrel-shaped bodies are difficult to grip. Their necks are short and stout – breaking them is not very feasible. And they have tusks, right near my target area. I did kill one once, though, a young adult, and I thoroughly enjoyed his buttery-sweet blood.

Scent trails are easier to follow when the weather’s damp. I detect several now and slow as the scents become stronger. Weaving through the bushes, I freeze – foraging along a marshy area are three adult females and six babies. I watch for a moment, then melt into the brush.

That is one thing I will not do. I will not kill mothers or babies – of any species.

Retracing my steps, I pick up my trail again and continue on to the car. Between the deer and my twenty-mile run, I’m finally relaxed, and I smile from the sheer joy of being in the woods.

The sprinkling has turned to rain, and I stop and lift my face to the sky. I rejoice as the drops hit and trail down my cheeks, and open my mouth to see if I can feel them on the inside as well. Rain dances across the leaves and rocks in a liquid ballet, and I listen as each drop makes its own music, creating a soft woodland symphony.

Laughing, I shake my head, flinging water off my hair to add to the concert, and take off running again.

© 2010 Roh Morgon. All rights reserved.

~~~~~~~~~

Yeah! You read that right!

But you might be asking, “Uh, third place in what?”

Miss Snark’s First Victim August Secret Agent Contest, that’s what!

The ’secret agent’ was revealed earlier this morning: Cameron McClure, of the Donald Maass Literary Agency!

I’m stunned – she is at the top of my intended submission list! I had actually planned to start querying by the end of the month.

Entrants for the contest were to submit the first 250 words of a completed novel. Submission windows were limited in both time and number of entries. A total of forty-four entries were submitted.

There were a number of great ones. I’m hoping the other winners will announce soon who they were – I’d love to visit their sites to see more of their writing!

In the meantime, I’m off to do my happy dance!

Blogfests!

I’ve decided that I really like them.

They give me a chance to visit other blogs and discover new writers that I enjoy.

And they force me to write–something short and sweet, something without the emotional investment and time commitment of a novel.

Blogfests allow me to play in my WIP if I’m in the mood, by either reprinting a scene already written, or creating a side story for a minor character.

But they also give me the freedom to write about something completely different, a way to step foot into another world. And if it’s a world I find intriguing once I’m in it, I may explore it more fully in future works.

So in honor of the blogfest, which in reality is a form of writing exercise, I’m going to host my first one.

In fact, I’m not only hosting one, I’m going to jump in with both feet and host TWO.

The first one is in honor of the month of September, the month when the heat of summer fades and the cool, crisp air of fall begins to creep in.

It’s also the month many schools start their year after summer break (although some jump the gun and start in August).

I’m calling it:

September’s Back-to-School Daze Blogfest

Your assignment?

Write a scene that takes place on a campus. It can be in a classroom, on the football field, in a locker room… (grin – but nothing explicit, please!) – just as long as the setting is on school grounds.

That’s it. Keep it short – 999 words is a nice length, but if you go a LITTLE over, I won’t slap your knuckles with a ruler.

AND – if you’re late to class, I won’t send you to the principal’s office. In honor of those of us who are always tardy, I’m running the blogfest through Saturday, September 18 to give everyone a chance to contribute and time to visit all the blogs. However, you must sign up on or before the blogfest date of September 15.

Oh, and please spread the word – copy the banner at the top to paste on your blog and link back to this page so that visitors can read the other entries. I’m sure there are some GREAT school stories out there!

I also ask that you leave comments on the blogs you visit. Let the writers know their works are being read – they’ll appreciate the time you take to acknowledge their efforts.

September’s Back-to-School Daze Blogfest date: Wednesday, September 15, 2010.

You can sign up with the Mr. Linky thingy below.

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But – before you go any further, make note of my second blogfest.

It’s taking place on October 23, 2010, and is called:

October’s Monster Mash Blogfest

The title should tell you all you need to know for now, so mark your calendar – I’ll announce more about it as we get a little closer to the date.

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That said, here’s the sign-up for September’s Back to School Daze Blogfest:

First of all, I’d like to introduce you to a couple of songs by one of my favorite independent artists, Justin St. Charles. I discovered him on the Nine Inch Nails remix site and he’s pretty talented. The first song, Reckless, tells the sad story of a breakup. It’s a soft hip-hop tune that’s quite heartwrenching. The second is a remix he did of a song by Trent Reznor’s new band, How To Destroy Angels called A Drowning. Justin’s remix is called Drowning Without Me.

Posted with the permission of the artists who believe in sharing their creative passions, here’s Reckless and Drowning Without Me:

~~~~~~~~~

Did ya happen to notice today’s date?

Yeah, today is a nine day. For those who are new to my blog, I have a thing for the number nine – it’s a really cool number.

Why, and why is today a nine-day, you ask?

Just add up all the numbers in the date, then add the numbers in the sum. So 16 August 2010 is: 1+6+8+2+0+1+0=18;  and 1+8=9!

Nine’s a special number and has all kinds of strange effects on numbers involving it. For example, multiply any number by nine. The result is a product whose integers also add up to nine (ex: 9 x 5 = 45; 4 + 5 = 9). Multiples of nine are kinda weird in another way – the first digit increases as the second digit decreases. For example:

9, 18, 27, 36, 45, 54, 63, 72, 81, 90. The pattern resets itself when 9 is multiplied by any number ending in 1, such as 11, 21, 31, etc.

Cool, huh?!

Which leads me to my next weird little factoid, only this one is a word.

Interrobang.

Yes, it’s a real word.

Want a clue as to its meaning?

You can find it at the end of the line that begins with the word ‘cool’

Huh?!

Yeah, that’s it.

An interrobang is a special symbol that’s the combination of a question mark and an exclamation mark. From Wikipedia:

The interrobang, interabang[1] (pronounced /ɪnˈtɛrəbæŋ/) or quesclamation mark, ‽, is a nonstandard English-language punctuation mark intended to combine the functions of the question mark (also called the interrogative point) and the exclamation mark or exclamation point (known in printers’ jargon as the bang). The glyph is a superimposition of these two marks. A sentence ending with an interrobang asks a question in an excited manner, expresses excitement or disbelief in the form of a question, or asks a rhetorical question.

It looks like this:

‽

It can be created in HTML or XML documents by typing ‽ or ‽ and some word processors will display it using the alt code ALT+8253 .

Just imagine – if this symbol were widely used, there would be no more confusion as to which order to place the question mark and the exclamation mark for those instances when you need both.

Pretty cool, huh‽

Time.

Something I seem to have precious little of, at least to call my own. It slips through my fingers, a stream flowing into the ocean of the past, never to be recovered.

I sell most of my time. My employer buys the biggest chunk of it for the cold hard cash necessary to keep a roof over my head and eat regularly. It’s a fair exchange, and one I shouldn’t complain about in this day and age of joblessness and uncertainty. But I sure wish I could figure out how to sell just a little less of it.

Trading my time with others is another avenue of loss. In my critique group, we trade reading time to help one another learn and grow. It’s also a fair exchange, for how can I expect someone to give me feedback on my writing without offering the same in return?

I tend to be selfish with the amount of time that is left, reserving it for writing and all the things that go along with trying to get published. My horses whinny at me as I go to and from the house, their voices questioning why I no longer spend hours grooming and riding them. Hobbies I once obsessed over, such as scrapbooking and costuming, gather dust as projects sit neglected in corners. Fan conventions and renfaires no longer fill my calendar – a calendar that tells lies with its emptiness.

I’m fortunate that my husband supports my writing efforts. He shares my frustrations when I cry at the end of a weekend because the writing or editing that I’d planned to do kept getting bumped to the bottom of the list, falling off of it completely when the clock strikes midnight on Sunday.

One of my biggest time-sucks is blogging. But I’ve found it necessary to my growth as a writer. I’ve learned a tremendous amount about writing and publishing from the other writers, agents, and editors who blog. Hopefully my investment of time in the blogosphere will pay off and bring me closer to a publishing deal.

So I’m at a loss on how to gain more time to actually write. For now, I steal it – some from the time I should be spending with my husband and animals, other bits from my neglected  friendships.

But mostly – I steal it from my sleep. And that’s hard on the body and the mind, and night after night of less than 6 hours of rest really takes its toll.

How about you? Where does your writing time come from? Is it yours to do whenever you wish, or do you have to squeeze it in between work and family? Or are you like me, stealing it from precious sleep and cringing at its cost when you peer into the mirror the next morning.

I’d like to hear from some of you about how you manage your writing time. And perhaps we’ll exchange comments and bemoan our lack of time while writing beneath the bright light of the moon.

First of all, I want to mention a couple of contests that are going on right now.

Today is the last day for the 100 Followers Contest over at  Critique This WIP. Prizes are chapter critiques by the gang over there – click on the link now to enter!

Roni, of Fiction Groupie, and Julie, of  Diary of an Unpublished Wanna-Be Writer, are hosting Roni and Julie’s Totally Epic Summer Contest.  They’ve been interviewing authors and agents all week, and are offering a variety of fabulous prizes, including books, critiques, and query opportunities. Hurry on over there to enter – contest deadline is Sunday, August 8.

And now, to introduce you to a new blogger!

Melanie Smith is a member of the Fresno Sci-Fi & Fantasy Writers and a dear friend of mine. She’s also an editor and a word-crafter par excellence!

Mellie’ new blog is called Thursday-ish. Why? In her words:

“Why Thursday, you ask? Monday and Tuesday are very busy for me.  Wednesday is too finely balanced in the middle of the week, and Friday is busy again, with my mind on other things. Thursday, though, is like an eddy of time in my busy life.  It’s the day I’m most likely to spend with a friend, or painting a watercolor, or writing.  I’m not all that good at deadlines, however, so I’m only promising Thursday-ISH.  It might be later, or I may feel perfectly balanced and write something brilliant on Wednesday.  One never knows…”

So join me in welcoming her, and hop on over to see what she says about her love affair…with words.

In recognition of Maggie Stiefvater’s stunning success with both Shiver and Linger (see my mini-review below in the ~bloghopper post), I’m featuring the songs that she wrote AND played for her book trailer videos. Talk about TALENTED!

The Golden Woods was written and arranged for Shiver by Maggie Stiefvater, and performed by Maggie Stiefvater and her sister, Kate Hummel.

One Thousand Paper Cranes was written, arranged, and performed for Linger by Maggie Stiefvater and Kate Hummel.

The third song in the player is last week’s When He Thinks Of Her (in case you missed it). This somber but beautiful song by Justin St. Charles is a nice followup to the Shiver and Linger songs.

Tessa’s got another fun blog event going on! It’s a bloghop to help readers and writers introduce themselves. This is what Tessa says about it:

The Life Fantastic

Do you write fantasy stories/novels (any subgenre welcome)? Do you read/review fantasy books?  Maybe you create fantasy art?  Join the list (at the bottom of this post) and meet other like-minded creatures of the web!
~~~~~~~~~

Here’s my bit:

Paranormal. Dark Fantasy. Swords and Sorcerers. Dragons and Mythical Lands. With a sprinkling of Aliens and Other Worlds.

That’s what I love to read, and what I love to write.

I just finished reading NYT bestseller Shiver and its sequel, Linger, by Maggie Stiefvater. OMG – Stephanie Meyer, move over. New werewolves have come to town, and they’re…disturbing. Heartbreaking. Wonderful in that wolfish sort of way.  How good is all this? Linger was just released in the US. It hit NUMBER 1 on the NYT bestseller list its first week!

Check out Maggie’s website. She has two cool book trailer videos that she created and wrote the music for. They make me all shivery, just like the books. I’ll be doing a more extensive review of the Wolves of Mercy Falls series in the near future, but for now, I only have 3 words: Go. Read. Them.

OK – this blog is supposed to be about visitors getting acquainted with me. Hmm…I hate to reinvent the wheel, so if you want to know a bit about me, hit these two links:

bio

11 things about me (skip past the award stuff to get to the list)

And if you want to know what I write, here’s a taste:

The Monster’s Growl (this is a piece about a minor character from my main WIP, Watcher. He was also recently featured in Tessa’s Blogfest of Death).

I have several excerpts from Watcher posted, as well as one from my MG short story, Fur Before Feathers. You can check them out in the links at the left under “this site.”

That’s it for now. See ya around in the blogosphere.
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~~~~~~~~~

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Also – I just discovered I’m signed up for Lisa’s blog hop as well. I’m not quite sure how that happened, but I do recall Mr. Linky and I having a knock-down drag-out fight when I signed up on Tessa’s…so without further ado, here’s Lisa’s bloghop info:

Well, my first contest is officially over!

Roh’s Character Contest #1 has not one, but two winners!

The Random Drawing – all this required is that the entrant comment on the Character Contest post. That’s it. Pretty simple. A few of the entrants also participated in the writing contest and received a bonus entry in the random drawing if their writing piece met a special word count criteria (their word count was a multiple of nine). Prize: an e-copy of the Nebula Award-winning novella The Unicorn Tapestry by Suzy McKee Charnas.

The name of each commenter was dutifully written on a ticket and placed into The Official Random Drawing Contest Bin (aka as the red tupperware bowl).

To the tune of Queen’s We Are the Champions, my Very Patient Husband (VPH) drew the winning name, which I will reveal in a few moments.

The Writing Contest – the requirements were simple. The goal was to write about your favorite character and convince readers to buy the book. Inclusion of the character name, title, and author, along with a limit of 198 words or less, were the only guidelines. Prize: a new softcover copy of Suzy McKee Charnas’ The Vampire Tapestry, along with a $10 gift card to either Borders or Barnes & Noble.

Our official judge was a fellow writer from the Fresno Sci-Fi & Fantasy Writers group. Melanie Smith, affectionately known as Mellie, is a free-lance editor and a friend of mine. When I asked for her help in judging the entries, she was thrilled to do so.

The entries were numbered and sent to her, so she had no idea who the various authors were.  I felt this was important to remove any possibility of bias. Submissions were judged on grammar, punctuation, word craft, and strength of argument. (many thanks, Mellie!)

So, without further ado, here are the contest winners:

(drum roll, please!)

Winner of the Random Drawing

Ryan, aka R. Garrett Wilson

Ryan is a member of the Fresno Sci-Fi & Fantasy Writers group. His short story, Meeting the Bakrra, will be appearing in our group anthology, I Dreamed a Crooked Dream, to be published this fall. Ryan’s blog is full of introspection and information that pertains to writing (and babies – he’s a new daddy). I’m sure he’d welcome a visit.

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Winner of the Writing Contest

Tessa of Tessa’s Blurb

Tessa recently hosted The Blogfest of Death, in which participants portrayed a death scene from either a WIP or something entirely new. Her blog is fun – and she has cool Haiku riddles, too. Be sure to check it out!

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In addition to the prizes mentioned, I’ve created a nifty little award to add to the winners’ blogs.

Of course, it’s obvious by this that I should confine my creative interests to writing and leave artwork to those who can actually do it…

Anyhow, congratulations to our winners!

Character Contest #2 will be taking place this fall – stay tuned to this blog.

I leave you with a final note…today is a nine-day! (7/26/2010: 7+2+6+2+0+1+0=18; 1+8=9)

This is a quiet little instrumental by Justin St. Charles. Readers of my blog might recall my AW May Musical Blog Chain post featuring his beautiful song Leavin’ Hope, a remix of a NIN instrumental, that is the main theme song for my novel Watcher. He’s taken several NIN songs and recreated emotional and haunting remixes that are part of the Watcher soundtrack. I think I’ll be adding this new song as well.

So, for your listening pleasure, here is When He Thinks Of Her, by Justin St. Charles:

Well, due to some unusual circumstances, I was unable to post my contribution to Tessa’s Blogfest of Death yesterday. But it was too cool of a ‘fest to pass up, so here’s my entry, albeit just a tad late. This is an alternate scene to one in my current WIP:

~~~~~~~~~

“Are you ready?” Janos lifts a corner of his lip, a sneer accenting the demonic hunger shining through crimson eyes. His thick blond ponytail drags across the back of his broad shoulders as he turns his head to look at me. The trembling young woman hugs herself as she settles deeper into the couch, away from where he stands over her, like a golden lion looming above his prey.

Standing between the two burly bouncers, I try to wrench free, but the steel fists trapping my arms only grow tighter. I pause, panting in fury, then lunge at the shorter guard, my teeth bared and reaching for his throat. A hand clamps around the back of my neck and lifts me off the ground. Cold breath against my ear sends icicles of fear down my spine.

“Ahh-ahh-ahh, Steven. Not too rough. We can’t damage our little traitor–remember?” Janos warns in his silky growl.

“Traitor?!” I spat as my feet meet the ground. “Me, the traitor? You’re the traitor, you and Éva and the others. Nicolas is–”

“Nicolas is no longer here, or haven’t you noticed?” Janos snarls. “And that’s your fault, you ball-busting bitch. Someone had to step in to run things when you left him unmanned and holed-up in his estate. But then, that was your plan all along, wasn’t it? Seduce and distract him to keep him from noticing the enemy incursions into our territory.”

He steps toward me, hatred blazing out of those red eyes. His expression shifts as he reaches out to smooth back my hair and I tense, still immobilized by the hand gripping my neck. The lust blossoming on Janos’ face is far more frightening than the hate, and I cringe as his hand moves down my cheek. It lingers a moment, tracing the silvery scars it finds there, then trails down to caress my breasts. I fight the impulse to struggle, knowing it will trigger him, but I can’t help myself. He growls and moves, lighting-quick, and as his icy lips touch my jaw, a roar rips from my throat. My teeth snap on empty air as he jerks back and grins.

“Oh, little kitten. You would be so much fun. Perhaps I can persuade Éva to let me have you for awhile before she rips off your head.” He turns and saunters back over to the terrified woman on the couch.

“Now, where were we? Oh, yes…dinner. Come, my sweet. I have something special for you.” Janos reaches out to brush her dark hair back from a face that looks disturbingly like my own. Her blue eyes glance at mine, unable to disguise her fear, as his hand drifts down to wait, empty, for hers. Quivering, she places her hand in his and he guides her to a stand.

“Unfortunately, sweet thing, I’m all out of Nicolas’ special ‘liqueur’, so I’m afraid this will be much more pleasant for me than for you.” A soft whimper escapes her lips as he draws her close. The hunger flaring anew in his eyes, he tips his head and smiles at me. His eyes stay locked on mine as he slowly turns her around, and with her back to him now, he wraps one arm around her waist. He yanks her tight against him and she cries out again, louder this time. Her ineffective thrashing to escape only intensifies the excitement animating his face as he breathes into her hair and growls. The thugs, momentarily distracted by the macabre performance, tighten their grip on me when I take advantage and try to squirm free.

“You son-of-a-bitch…is this really necessary?” I snarl as numbing pain spreads up and down my arms from the vise-like holds.

“Don’t tell me you have Nicolas’ weakness for such as this.” Janos leans back and combs his fingers through the dark strands. “I’ve always thought his efforts to make it pleasurable for them were a waste. I mean, what’s the point? And his edict against killing them? That’s against our very nature. We are, after all, the superior species, you and I.”

“We are nothing alike. What you are is despicable, worse than any animal. There’s nothing superior about cruelty and murder.”

Janos laughs, the rumble in his chest ominous, then one-handed, gathers the woman’s hair and drapes it over her shoulder. I swallow at the sight of her bared throat, and Janos laughs again at my discomfort as I meet his gaze once more. Still staring at me, he lowers his face to that porcelain flesh and nuzzles the softness there. He groans, then wraps his free arm around the woman’s breasts and crushes her to him. Unable to look away, I watch, the crimson veil dropping over my vision and hunger beginning to boil in my veins. He opens his mouth and slowly sinks his fangs into her throat.

She shrieks, but he only clamps her tighter to him as he begins to draw, one mouthful after another. Disgust with his brutality rivals the desire in me to feast alongside him, and again I attempt to break free, to leave this room, to do anything but be a witness to the horror unfolding in front of me. But I might as well try to bend iron. Her screams fade to low moans as he drains the life from her, one swallow at a time. I shut my eyes to the sight of her blood trailing down from his lips, blood that is fueling my own raging hunger, but I can’t block the smell, nor the sounds of his feeding.

She gasps, and gasps again. My eyes fly open of their own accord to see her limp body hanging from his teeth and arms. Her final sigh is accompanied by his groan of triumph, and the air in the room electrifies as he drops her, throws his head back and looses a roar that shakes the very walls. He roars again, then snaps his head around to stare at me. The crimson in his irises and pupils is gone, replaced by a white so bright it nearly glows.

A shockwave of power batters me and my knees weaken as I nearly collapse from it. The bouncers waver as well, their grips relaxing as they take in their maker’s energy overflow. Reeling, I slip free of their grasps to turn and dive headfirst through the window, accompanied by shards of glass. I twist to land on my feet and hear a sound at the broken third-story window. As I leap into a run, Janos’ words drift out above me.

“Let her go. We’ve delivered our message.”

Outrage at their Game-playing fuels my feet, and as I blur towards my car, a snarl tears from my throat.

I will pay you back, you bastard, for betraying Nicolas, and for this poor girl’s unnecessary death, hers and the countless others before and after. And when I’m done with you, you’ll wish you were mortal and will beg me for a mortal’s end.

~~~~~~~~~

© 2010 by Roh Morgon. All rights reserved.

REMINDER – Character Contest #1 ends TOMORROW (Saturday July 17) at midnight! Don’t miss out on a chance to win cool book stuff!

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Characters. They literally make or break a story. You can have plot up the bazoo, but if you don’t have characters that entrap the readers, that suck them in and make their hearts race, you have nothing but black marks on a page.

I just finished critiquing nine stories ranging in length from 3,000 to 14,000 words (more than half of them were 10k+). These stories will be published by the Fresno Sci-Fi and Fantasy Writers in our first annual anthology this fall.

So I’ve been paying extra attention to character development lately, not only in our anthology stories, but others as well.

Some stories contain dynamic characters that screech up to the reader, slam open the door, and say, “Jump in!” Then they careen down the road at madcap speed, the reader hanging on for dear life, giggling or sobbing at every turn.

In others, sedate characters stroll by, politely asking the reader if they’d like to go for a walk as they pass. The journey can be pleasant and relaxing, or a boring sedative to fall asleep with.

And sometimes the characters are confined by the writer to a park bench, only watching the events unfold around them and not even noticing when the reader asks to join them. Emotionless, unable to interact with their environment, their apathy quickly drives the reader away.

So how do you turn those wallflowers at the prom into the dancing stars that everyone admires and wants to be with? What can you do to turn them from a drab grey to vivid splashes of red, blue, and yellow?

Let ‘em speak. Give them a voice. Allow them to cringe in pain, to frown in annoyance, to grin and shout their joy. Every word, every gesture, should be used to lure the reader in and ensnare them in the web of the story. And if it’s done right – if the writer has given their characters the freedom to express themselves – the reader will be thrilled to be caught up in the silken threads of another world, far beyond the reach of their own reality.

I’d like to hear from other writers how you bring your characters to life and what advice you might have to offer for those that are learning the craft.

I just found out about a contest being hosted by a new follower of my blog, Bekah at Bekah’s Stories.  It’s called the Worst. Query. Ever. Write IT! The entries are hilarious – you should check them out. I had a lot of fun writing mine, which was totally off the top of my head. If you’re feeling a little blocked or frustrated, participating in this exercise may unlock your muse and help bring a little humor into your day. Contest deadline: August 1, 2010

Another interesting blog event, hosted by Tessa at Tessa’s Blurb, is called The Blogfest of Death:

The title alone got my attention. Here’s what it’s about (as quoted from her blog):

Kill someone.

(a fictional someone, pretty please)

To learn more (and have an excuse to off someone as a writing exercise), visit Tessa’s blog. Blogfest date: Sunday, July 18, 2010.

And don’t forget, the deadline for my Character Contest #1 is fast approaching

I recently received the Journey Support award (my very first blog award!) from Tara at Feel of Something New. Being somewhat new to the blogosphere, I wasn’t sure what the award was for, so I googled it.

The Journey Support Award is given to bloggers in recognition for their support in this crazy world of writing and trying to get published – which is really cool (thanks, Tara!). So with that in mind, I’d like to pass it along to a few folks who’ve helped me:

Chris at C. Michael Fontes, Ryan at R. Garrett Wilson, Paula at P D Wright, Roni at *Fiction Groupie*, and Janet at Janet Sumner Johnson. Thank you all for your support and encouragement.

It just so happens that Janet also gave me an award today. It’s called the Honest Scrap Award, and has a few strings attached (they’re fun ones, though!).

First of all, I just want you to say “Honest Scrap” three times out loud, real fast. Yeah, I think that’s pretty funny.

So one of the requirements of this award is that you list ten *true* things about yourself  (you know, honest crap).

The second is that you pass it along to either five or ten other bloggers (google seemed a bit confused on this).

Well, being the renegade rule-breaker that I am, I’ve listed not ten, but eleven true things about me. Typical writer – can’t cut anything.

The other rule I’m going to bend (not break) is that I’m going to wait a little while before I bestow this award on my fellow bloggers (some of who I just gave the Journey Support award to).

So, in the meantime, here is my list of Honest Scrap:

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1)  Once drove an Amtrak train for over 100 miles – with passengers on it. No, really. Operated the accelerator, the brake, the horn – the whole shebang. The poor engineer probably lost his job (someone snapped a picture).

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2)  Lived for two years on the base of Pike’s Peak. Only made it to the top once – on the back of a Harley.

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3)  Love cars. Absolutely adore cars. One of my favorite things to do? Drive my little black Genesis coupe, Nine Inch Nails blaring from the stereo, windows down, no holds barred. Love curvy roads and pedal-to-the-metal. Once raced a…well, never mind. My dad reads my blog

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4)  Another favorite thing to do? Hauling butt on my jet ski across the lake, wind ripping through my hair as the water sprays up to kiss my skin. And doing doughnuts on the ski, round and round, faster and faster, ’til I’m hysterically dizzy and nearly flung off the darn thing.

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5)  Collector of knives and swords  – and can use them. Really. I prefer to fight with rapier and dagger.  You know, like in The Three Musketeers or The Mask of Zorro.

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6)  Been known to fly across the country for fan-related activities. And wear costumes that my husband and I made to said gatherings (yeah, I’m a true geek).

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7)  Owned by three mustang horses that I gentled and trained (with a little help).

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8)  Two crazy working dogs live with me – one bred to work cattle, the other to work sheep. Own neither cattle nor sheep, but have lots of tennis balls and frisbees.

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9)  The area surrounding my home in the Sierra Nevada foothills is so quiet at night your ears ring. Except when the owls call or the coyotes howl.  I hate the concrete and madness of cities.

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10)  One of only a few hundred people who attended the final two shows of Nine Inch Nails last September. And yeah, I was in the pit.

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Bonus factoid – My two kids are probably older than most of you reading this post.

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Oh, and one last thing. Don’t forget to enter my Character Contest #1 – the deadline is Saturday, July 17.

Blogging contests.

I recently held one, and it didn’t do so well.

Truthfully? It was an epic FAIL. And that blame lies entirely with me.

Being new at this whole blogging thing, I’m still learning the ropes (like many of you).  In my recent post on successful blogging, I examined a few elements that I’ve observed in popular blogs, limiting my analysis to those by writers (we know why agent blogs are popular). This helped me to discover areas to focus on in order to improve my blogging.

Back to the contest. I contacted Roni over at *Fiction Groupie* (her blog is one I consider successful, with over 500 followers gained in less than a year), and asked her a few questions about holding contests and how to promote them. She gave me great advice and encouraged me to try again.  Janet Sumner Johnson also offered suggestions on how to spread news of the contest.

So, after consulting with the previous entrants (whose entries still count), I’ve decided to extend the Character Contest #1 deadline by two weeks.

Below is a re-post of the contest guidelines. So without further ado, read on:

~~~~~~~~~

Before I begin, I just need to point out that today is a NINE day. Nine days are always good days for me.

One of the things I enjoy about other bloggers’ posts is reading the comments. The commenter may confirm the relevancy of the topic, offer their own interpretation/experience, or suggest further sources. Sometimes the comment is just an attagirl (or boy) for a great post, or, rarely I hope, a negative remark from some disgruntled reader. I haven’t experienced any bad ones myself yet (of course, I haven’t had all that many comments on my posts, either), but hope I can handle it with grace if/when it does happen.

But I have received some comments that made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. And today, I received one of the most memorable ever. It was from a longtime friend, a writer I knew from before I started writing, and one whose support encourages me to keep pursuing this craft. His name is töff, and he is the creator and driving force behind the Fresno Sci-Fi and Fantasy Writers.

Here is his comment about my novel Watcher that made my day:

“I hereby claim the honor and privilege of being the first person ever to read /Watcher/ while giving blood. The dream scene about Marie is dramatic enough in its own right , but try reading about the loss of a lifespark while your own blood is pumping out through a 16-gauge needle.”

Now that’s a dedicated reader and a devoted fan – willing to give up his lifeblood in order to immerse himself more fully in the story.

Thank you, töff — for everything.

Just a quick announcement:

The deadline for my Character Contest #1 is June 27 – two days from now!

Hurry and get your entries in. You can find the guidelines here.

I recently discovered blogging contests, blogfests, blogchains – all sorts of fun ways to express oneself and discover new blogs to become addicted to.  And, of course, opportunities to expand one’s own readership.

I’ve participated in a few now. My favorites were the AW Musical Blog Chain - because I both love and write to music – and the Bad Boy Blogfest, because, well, you know…

But early on in my discovery of this new facet of blogging I decided to hold my own contest (Roh’s Character Contest #1). I dilligently constructed the rules, purchased the prizes, and notified the few bloggers I know that I was doing such a thing.

But what I failed to do was get the word out adequately, and my entry numbers were less than I’d hoped for.

I’m still learning this blogging thing, and have finally figured some of what the successful bloggers have in common:

1)  They post every day

2)  They all have a great sense of humor (or at least a wry wit)

3)  Their posts are almost always educational or devoted to information sharing in some way

4)  They frequently pose questions to their readers that encourage further information sharing

5)  They link to other blogs that they reference – and they almost always reference other blogs, especially if they’re doing #3 above

6)  They participate in blogging events (contests, blogfests, etc) to a degree – some more than others

7)  They acknowledge their commenters in some way – via individual or group thanks, blog references, etc.

So, in analyzing these commonalities, I can see where I need to focus my efforts. Item #1 is pretty critical and has been a failure of epic proportions on my part. I’m going to skip the rest, because it’s pretty obvious I need to work on these (although I’ve been doing #7 as much as possible).

As for today’s post, I’m going to Item #4 and pose a question:

What other elements have you seen consistently in successful blogs? Which ones do you have trouble implementing and which ones do you currently use?

(And yes, I realize my posts need to be shorter.  *snort*)

When I saw the Bad Boy Blogfest hosted by Tina Lynn at Sweet Niblets (and thanks for the heads up, Roni!), I knew I had to participate. Can’t help it – just love the bad boys. I also knew exactly who I would serve up as my offering to the altar of badness.

Meet Janos, from my WIPs, Watcher and Runner:

~~~~~~~~~

The Monster’s Growl

©2010 Roh Morgon

Carly buried her face against the broad, leather-coated back, the night wind snatching at her hair and ripping tears from her eyes. The thunder of the black Harley drowned out even her thoughts as Janos twisted the throttle to pass a line of traffic. The bike lunged forward and she tightened her grip around him while red taillights streamed by at lightning speed. Blinding headlights flashed off the big bike’s mirrors as they shot past the cars and leaned back into their lane.

Adrenalin pumping through her in rhythm with the engine as they sped down the highway, Carly thought back to earlier in the evening.

~~~

The big blond biker was the hottest thing that ever walked into the little bar on the edge of town. When he sauntered over and put his quarters on their pool table, he altered everyone’s game. Marsha grew quiet and began playing serious for a change, and Deb lost her bored-with-everything attitude, shooting as though her life depended upon it. The clack of the balls against one another was the only sound that broke the desperate silence in their little corner of the bar.

But Carly managed to beat them both, and when the biker shoved his quarters into the table slot, her heart stopped. He straightened, his chest and shoulders straining against the black t-shirt beneath his denim cutoff vest, and she realized that all three of the girls–herself included–were holding their breath. None of them could take their eyes from him as he racked, his arm muscles rippling while he deftly flipped the balls into their proper places. When he pulled the rack off, his steel blue eyes looked up into hers. She nearly dropped her pool cue.

“Are you ready?” he asked, a mysterious smile playing about his full lips.

She gulped and nodded, then proceeded to shoot the worst game of her life. She couldn’t quit staring at his biceps as he shot nor his chiseled face framed by shoulder-length blond hair. The excited whispers of Marsha and Deb behind her only made it worse. And when it was her turn–forget it. Even though he stood silent, holding his stick in front of him as he watched her attempt to shoot, her awareness of him and his quiet confidence completely blew her focus. She missed shot after shot, and it seemed like only a matter of minutes had passed before he called the pocket and sunk the eight-ball.

But all thoughts of losing evaporated when he asked her if she’d like to go for a ride. She didn’t even hesitate as she stammered her acceptance. She barely had enough presence of mind to turn, weakly smile, and wave to her friends as he held the front door open for her.

Carly stood back and watched, wide-eyed, as he gathered his hair into a ponytail and shrugged on his black leather jacket. He straddled the big chopper and with one powerful kick, the metal beast roared to life, startling her with its throaty growl. The deep pounding of the pistons as it idled both excited and scared her, but not as much as Janos’ smile as he invited her to climb on behind him.

She struggled onto the rumbling machine and was shocked at the vibration drumming between her legs. Having nothing else to hang onto, she gingerly placed her hands on the sides of his waist. He reached down, grabbed her arms, and wrapped them tightly around him.

“Are you ready?” he yelled over his shoulder, a half-smile tugging at his full lips.

She nodded and he grinned, revving the bike several times. He reached down by his leg, yanked the shifter, and the metallic monster lurched into flight. She clung to him, thrilled and terrified at the same time, as he raced through the gears, each shift threatening to tear her from her precarious seat. She became lost in the storm of their passage as her world shrunk to the sound of Harley thunder and the rush of the clawing wind.

~~~

Carly shook her head as she questioned her rash decision. She’d never done anything this impulsive before. She usually had trouble just giving a guy her phone number. But to leave with a guy she’d barely met? Not like her. Not like her at all. She smiled at the thrill that ran through her as she contemplated her ride on the wild side. Maybe that’s because no one this intriguing had ever asked her before.

The rumble of the engine slowed its tempo as Janos braked to turn off the highway onto a dark country road. Carly felt the first stirrings of doubt as he guided the bike through a series of lonely, tree-lined curves. After several miles, he downshifted again and turned into an unlit driveway. As the pulsing gallop of the engine echoed into the night, her heartbeat sped up, half in anticipation and half in fear. He pulled up in front of a darkened house, shut off the engine, and leaned the bike onto its kickstand. The silence that assaulted her ears was almost painful after the incessant roar of the big Harley.

Her nerves stretched taut as Janos made no further movement. The engine and pipes snapped and popped in the languid air as they cooled, and with a creak of his leathers, he finally stirred. He patted her arms that were still clamped around his waist, and feeling stupid, she released her death grip on him. He stood and shifted forward, allowing her to set a foot onto the ground and swing her other leg over the back of the bike.

She hugged herself and moved back as he dismounted and pulled his leather gloves off. Without another word, he turned and walked up the porch steps. Carly glanced around into the encroaching night , then biting her lip, followed him. He was holding the door open, waiting for her. The mysterious look in his eyes had been replaced with something else–something primeval. But instead of this scaring her, it triggered images of him naked above her. Electricity running through her veins, she quickened her pace and walked past him into the dark house.

Carly flinched at the loud snap of a switch and the dim yellow glare from an overhead light. As she turned to look at Janos, he smiled and walked up to her. He reached out and smoothed her hair, his blue eyes locked onto hers. She felt helpless in the steely fire of his gaze and offered no resistance as he began to undress her.

Stepping back from his handiwork, he stood and thoughtfully surveyed her naked body. As his eyes reached hers, she recoiled at the raw hunger in his expression. Darts of fear shot up her spine as his once-blue eyes changed color, becoming blood red.

“Are you ready?” he asked, his broad smile revealing the deadly fangs behind those full lips.

Her scream shattered the quiet of the night as the cooling Harley settled into silence.

~~~~~~~~~

Check out this post by Veronica Roth over at GotYA on agent responses to queries at the Backspace Writers Conference.

Don’t you love it when a special character in a story refuses to leave your thoughts, even after the story is done?

I recently met one named Weyland in a short story titled “Unicorn Tapestry” by Suzy McKee Charnas.

We get to know Weyland through his therapist, Floria as she begins treatment on who she assumes is a delusional patient. A staid, aging college-professor, he maintains his distance from Floria with a cold formality. But as this spare and intense man reveals the chilling details of his life, Floria begins to question her initial diagnosis. She becomes more and more unsettled by her mysterious patient as he nimbly lays waste to her attempts to unravel his delusions. Their dance with words eventually leads to a dance with death in a spine-tingling conclusion. The end is not quite what we anticipate and leaves the reader (at least this one) thinking about it long after it’s over.

Weyland and his ‘outsider’ existence haunted me enough that I read the story twice. I visited the website of author Suzy McKee Charnas, then wrote to her to tell her of Weyland’s impact on me, and how I have a similar character (Nicolas from Watcher) who haunts me as well. She was kind enough to answer and discuss Weyland, and encouraged me with my writing.

Characters are what keep us reading. There are millions of readers out there who fell in love with Edward and Bella and went on to devour the rest of Stephanie Meyer’s Twilight Saga. There are millions of others who couldn’t wait to for the next J.K.Rowling to learn what was going to happen to Harry Potter and his friends.

Well-developed characters are what I love, and what I strive for in my writing. Character development is an ongoing topic among writers and lately has been a subject of discussion on several blogs by friends in the Fresno SciFi and Fantasy Writers (FSFW) group.

Something else my friends have been doing in the blogosphere is holding contests in which the winner receives a copy of a recommended book.

I’ve been thinking about this.

And here’s what I’ve decided to do:

I’m going to hold a series of contests based on characters. Each contest will be slightly different, but they’ll all revolve around characters. I’ll be holding them every 3-4 weeks, so stay tuned to this blog.

Here’s the guidelines for Roh’s Character Contest #1:

Most readers have a list of favorite characters from stories they love. I know who mine are — I want to hear about yours.

Comment about one or more of your favorite characters and what books they are from. Each person commenting will receive one entry. The winner will be determined by a random drawing.

There’s a SECOND chance to win as well! It’s also an opportunity to stretch your literary muscles.

Describe your favorite character in your own words and what impact this character has had on your writing, or even on your life. You must include the title of the story, book, or series, along with the author’s name.

Word limit: 198 words or less (1+9+8=18, 1+8=9. I’m a nine freak, remember?).

Check out my three paragraphs above on Weyland for an example (and yes, they total exactly 198 words).

Your entry will be judged on both word craft and strength of argument. In other words, CONVINCE me. Tell me what it is about this character and its effect on you in a way that will compel me (and others) to go buy the book and read it.

Bonus points: If your word count total is a ‘nine’ (the digits add up to nine or a mulitple of nine), you will receive a second entry into the random drawing.

PRIZES:

For the random drawing, the prize will be a gift certificate from Fictionwise for an e-book of the Nebula award-winning Unicorn Tapestry by Suzy McKee Charnas.

For the character description, the prize is a brand-new softcover copy of Suzy McKee Charnas’ book, The Vampire Tapestries AND a $10 gift card for Borders or Barnes & Noble (winner’s choice). The prizes for this portion of the contest are restricted to residents of the continental U.S. only.

CONTEST ENDS:

This contest has been extended. The last day to enter is June 27, 2010 Saturday, July 17 (a nine-day, of course). The random winner will be drawn the following day and notified via email. The character descriptions will be judged during the remainder of the week. The winner will be selected and notified via email by July 6, July 26, 2010.

Yay! It’s finally my turn on the Absolute Write May Musical Blog Chain. There’s something to be said for being last!

Aheïla started the chain with the question, “What does your story/character(s) sound like?” She offered the following guidelines: “You can take this from any angle: what do you listen to when you write, which song summarizes your story the best, etc.”

Hmm. Well, for me, the best place to start is at the beginning.

I woke up one morning with a character in my head showing me her lonely existence on the fringes of human society. As Sunny unveiled her story, I became obsessed in the efforts to write it down. That might not sound unusual, except I’d never written anything before.

That was the beginning of a new chapter in my life, which quickly narrowed down to night after night of manic writing, generally getting only 2-4 hours of sleep before heading off to work the next day. Watcher became my life as the story poured incessantly into my head.

During that five, very unreal months, I discovered how much music – always a big part of my life – enhanced my writing. I initially wrote to wordless instrumental songs…

Well, I must confess. It was actually the Twilight score – not the popular soundtrack, but the haunting background music by Carter Burwell. It provided the eerie feel of the nonhuman creatures I was writing about, with both soft romantic interludes and violent crescendos that matched the scenes playing in my head.

Then my son introduced me to Nine Inch Nails. I was familiar with a couple of their popular songs, but though a longtime Tool fan, I’d never paid much attention to NIN. My son filled my new iPod with NIN and I discovered a depth to Trent Reznor’s music that went way beyond Closer (the ‘animal’ song).

As I was editing Watcher, I kept finding track after track of quiet and deeply emotional music by NIN. I discovered even more on the NIN remix site.

Trent Reznor, ever rebellious, makes his music available for fans to download, remix, and upload – in fact, he not only encourages it, but uploads his own remixes as well. What makes this phenomenal is that not only is it available to the public, but it’s all free as long as all the artists are credited and no one profits from it.

My ‘soundtrack’ for Watcher consists of dozens of songs and I’m constantly on the lookout for more. But what I’ve done for this post is to list the songs that are tied to a few of the more important scenes in the book. Many of them are Nine Inch Nails in origin, but there are also a few Incubus songs on this list – their mood and lyrics seem particularly suited to this story.

But before you begin, I need to add one little tidbit about some of the weirdness that entered my life while writing the story of Sunny and Nicolas.

The novel was almost complete when I discovered a song that sent chills down my spine. Why? Because the singer was singing about Nicolas – my Nicolas – who had been hammering his story at me for the last half a year. The song is called Sleeping with a Vampyre by Brigitte Handley and The Dark Shadows. It not only describes his physical appearance perfectly, but his behavior and attitude as well. It really creeped me out. Still does. Makes me wonder how many women he visits in their dreams…

You can listen to it here:

So that said, I invite you on a brief journey of Watcher through music that expresses the rollercoaster of emotions in this story. If you don’t have much time to listen to all of them, then at least listen to the theme song for Watcher. It’s called Leavin’ Hope, Still and is a Nine Inch Nails remix by Justin St.Charles. This is a sad but beautiful instrumental love song which, to me, is a perfect tribute to Sunny and Nicolas.  It’s Track #4 on the main player.

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Be sure to check out the other participants in the AW May Musical Blog Chain. They all use and relate to music differently in their writings and offer a wonderful variety of music samples:

Fiction Groupie is holding an event called the “Let’s Talk” Blogfest. Participants sign up on her blog, then post a dialog excerpt from their WIP on their own blog.

I heard about this from Chris (one of my friends from FSFW) and immediately thought, “I have the perfect scene. I was just working on it.”

Thanks, Chris, for the heads up!

And without further ado, here is a scene from Watcher (oh, and today is a nine-day, BTW!):

~~~~~~~~~

The first thing I become conscious of is that whatever I’m lying on is not hard.  I cautiously reach out, expecting to feel air, but instead touch softness and fabric.

I open my eyes open and lift my head to look around.  A bed, my bed.  Not a tree branch.

Or maybe it is still a dream, I realize, as I turn and see Nicolas stretched out next to me, leaning on his elbow with his head propped up on his hand.

“Good morning,” he says in a low musical voice, his emerald eyes shining.

As before, words stick in my throat, unable to escape. So this must be a dream after all.

He reaches out and brushes back the hair from my face, then softly strokes my lips.

But that felt pretty real.

He shifts, then leans over and kisses me on the mouth.

Oh, this is definitely real.

I feel my body respond, and then he is crushing me to him.  He holds me tight for a long moment, then slowly releases me and leans back.  He reaches out again and starts working the tangles from my hair with his fingers.

“I was unable to comb all of these out earlier, as you were sleeping on this side.”

“You carried me off the mountain,” I croak, my voice finally breaking free.

“I did,” he says quietly as he continues to pick at my hair.

“You are here.”

“I am.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Since the night you left.  A month ago.”  The pain beneath his words is unmistakeable.

“A month? I’ve been gone a month?”

It’s all a blur of mountains and forests, lakes and meadows, blood and more blood.

He purses his lips, but does not answer. His green eyes watch my face as I feel the wilderness sing in my soul.  He touches my cheek, jarring me back to the present.

“You waited here,” I whisper. “All that time. For me.”

“Yes. I could do…nothing else.” Again I hear the pain, accompanied by loneliness, and wonder how he survived.

Because the only way I did was to give myself to the blood and to the wild.

Once more it calls, and I shut my eyes and remember the colors and smells that caressed my senses, and the wind that softly brushed my skin. Life is so simple out there.  Hunt and run and swim and sleep.  No complicated emotions to manage, no one to argue with, or be disappointed in, or be embraced by, or be loved by.

My eyes grow damp as tears begin to well up beneath their closed lids.

“Sunny.”  His voice is calm and soothing. Feather-light fingers again touch my face.

Startled, my eyes fly open. Yes, he is still here. This is not a dream.

But I need to move, to stretch, to run. My body’s not used to being so still for so long. Slipping out of the bed, I back across the room, watching him. He gets up as well, and part of me starts to panic. I turn to the closet, take out a pair of  jeans and a sweater, and slip them on.  I don’t need shoes–quit wearing them weeks ago.

“I need to go,” I whisper to the floor on my way out.

“Will you come back?” he asks, his voice strained.

“I don’t know. Maybe.” I take a long, slow breath. “Yes. I just need…a little more time.”

Turning, I head for the back door. As I open it, I hear him in the doorway behind me.

“I’ll be here,” he says.

I breathe deeply and step outside, inhaling the pine and other scents that make up the forest, and take off up the mountain at a dead run.

There has been discussion recently among several of my friends from the Fresno SciFi and Fantasy Writers (FSFW) about characters – character development, character-driven vs. plot-driven stories, etc.

Characters are what inspire me to write. Each of my stories started when I woke up one morning with the image or words of a character in my head. Were they the result, or aftermath, of dreams? I don’t know, because I rarely remember my dreams.

The beings I’ve written about each began as a blurry presence that solidified as I turned my attention to them. And once I opened the door in my mind to their existence, they came through, bringing their personalities, fears, needs, and quirks with them. Physical appearances came later, generally not until I actually began writing their stories.

The stories they’ve shown me played as movies in my head, revealed one scene at a time. Often I got glimpses of future scenes, but I was never quite sure where they would fall until they hit the page.  The endings were a little different. Once the story was rolling – once the character felt confident that I was telling it the way they wanted – only then they would show me the ending.

Watcher, my first story, was interesting to write. As Sunny showed me her life and I began to get a sense of her loneliness, she guided me to one of the most important scenes in her story – the first time she saw Nicolas. It wasn’t until he stepped into the story that I knew the ending.  And that was also when I realized there would be a sequel as well.

The sequel, Runner, is a work-in-progress and is only half-complete. The ending for it is fuzzy – I know the general direction the story is heading, but these two characters have a habit of throwing surprises at me as I write.  The beginning of Runner is proof – I had no warning that Sandy was about to step into the story, let alone be such a pivotal character, until she literally stepped in front of Sunny’s car.

Some of you may be rolling your eyes at how I refer to my characters – as though they are living, breathing, real beings with opinions and a say-so in the matter. But that is how I see them. To me, the only way a writer can make the reader believe a character is real, to bond with a character and care about them, is if the writer accepts them as real.

Their reality is just on another plane of existence. Whether that plane of existence is entirely in my mind, or is indeed another dimension full of cracks that its inhabitants slip through, is not something I care to dwell on. As long as my characters keep showing me their stories, I’ll keep writing them down.

And I’m betting that I’m not the first writer who halfway expects one of their characters to someday step around a corner – in this plane of existence – and say, “Hello.”