Those Of Divine Heritage

I need to finish my current revision by Friday. I have to write a brand new chapter, and completely rework about four others others. Which is why I'm writing this post on a Wednesday and scheduling it for Thursday. it's because I'm being efficient. Not at all because I'm procrastinating.

Though in my defense, I just sketched out the new chapter and I'm really happy with it. I assume I'll continue to be happy with it until someone reads it and tells me it still doesn't work as an opening chapter and I need to give in and adopt a different POV for chapter 1. Until that point, I'm happy with this only half-formed beast.

But that's so completely not my point.

For many years I had a fascination with movies about 'special' children. Not like special needs children, but like children (and adults depending on the movie) who were:

• An offspring of the devil/a demon
• An offspring of an angel or other heavenly being
• Some manner of scion or someone afflicted with stigmata

I can't say "when I was younger" because it's something I only lost interest in a few years ago, and every once in a while a movie almost tricks me again.

I don't think I can put into words what I was looking for, beyond 'different'. I think 'Constantine' and 'The Ninth Gate' are the closest I ever found to whatever un-named demon (pun intended) was driving me. I gave up on the genre in general when I realized 99% of the movies out there were either 'The Omen' or 'Prophecy' revisited.

Oh, and 'Dogma' wasn't bad either.

We watched 'Immortals' the other day. I know a lot of people didn't care for it. Overall, I wasn't fond of the gore and the pacing was a little slow. BUT the thing I loved about it was the way the story of Theseus was reimagined. That's also one of the things I like about Thor and Loki in the Avengers series. It's even one of the things I liked about the movie '300'.

Someone dared to take a point in the past that none of us were there to witness, and ask 'what if it happened a little differently?'

I guess I keep looking for that in these movies about Heaven and Hell. Something that steps outside of the definitions Dante created. Something that asks 'what if there's more metaphor and parable here than we realize?'

When it comes right down to it, that's why I write the stories I do.

What if Actaeon wasn't a guy Artemis turned into a stag when she caught him spying on her and her nymphs bathing? What if he was the half-human son who got tired of the orgies and just walked out one day?

What if Lucifer never actually fell? What if that was all part of the hype to increase followers? Every story needs a villian, right?

What if Zeus and Odin were the same god, and the different names and pantheons were all about diversifying and drawing in more faith?

I'm not trying to rewrite religion or myth. It's just...I wasn't there, I don't know how it actually happened. What if something got lost in the translation or changed in the retelling over the course of the last several thousand years? Or even if it happened exactly the way we know the stories today, what does it hurt to envision something different?

Where do you draw some of your world building inspiration from?

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Lucky 7 and Not-So-Lucky 1

I have a confession to make. I like to throw tantrums. I get frustrated with my writing and tell myself and anyone who will listen and not call me on it later that I'm going to trash the entire story and never touch it again.

This usually only lasts a couple of hours. I've learned the most important thing I can do in that span of time is to not touch the offending story. To not look at it, or think about it or let it linger in my life in any way.

That's been me a couple of times now with my current chapter 1. It's so close, but so not. Which is okay, because after my tantrum yesterday, and some much-needed encouragement, I've figured out my newest 'brilliant' solution. And because of it I will spend the morning researching Tibetian monks and civil unrest in Asia.

In the meant time, I've been tagged in the Lucky 7 Meme and given the Sunshine award by Red Angel. That made my morning too ^_^. I have to tell you all a secret about The Red Angel blog. Many years ago (12 or 13), I had a different online persona. I used to call myself Red Angel. I'll still use it as a screen name occasionally when I need something different. So way back when I found Wendy's blog, I had to follow just for the name. I've never regretted that decision. She's a fantastic blogger and writer, so go visit her and follow her if you aren't yet.

Anyway, here are the rules of the Lucky 7 meme:

1. Go to page 77 of your current MS.
2. Go to line 7.
3. Copy down the next 7 lines - sentences or paragraphs - and post them as they're written. No cheating.
4. Tag 7 authors.

This is from Apathy's Hero:

Theo hadn't had to do it. He was Hades only son, and had been born part demon, part god, part human.

Theo chuckled and pushed his plate away. "Yeah, you are. You're keeping it hidden though. Why?"

Conner rolled his eyes. "I think I would remember making a pact with a demon. Why would I go to Gahena, anyway?"

"Good question." Theo's scrutiny didn't let up. "Why were you there?"

Conner sighed. There was no point in denying that bit of his past. Traces of being there still lingered in his aura, it had been confirmed more than once. But he knew it wasn't a demon. It couldn't be. "For you. When I thought Zeus had destroyed you, I got Lucifer to show me the way. Ba'al was gone, Zeus was killing heroes, I was hoping for someone to help me fight back. But nothing happened. Hades laughed at me and threw me out."

"And you left unscathed?" A small smile still played on Theo's face. "As you would say, whatever. Speaking of Lucifer, what are the odds I can see this place you work?"

"You mean you want to reacquaint yourself with the enemy?" Conner kept the joke light, feeling the tension leak away with the change in subject.

The Sunshine Award

1. Favorite Color: Red. Just red. There's something about it.
2. Favorite Animal: My kitten (who is actually 6 years old and not really a kitten at all), RafKat
3. Favorite Number: 106 (long story. Or maybe just boring story ^_~)
4. Favorite (non-alcoholic) drink: Hmm...A really well made, sugar free latte. Mint, or mocha, or caramel, or my current addiction, vanilla raspberry
5. Facebook or Twitter: Depends on the day of the week and where more people are hanging out that day.
6. My passion: Really? Yes, it's my stories.
7. Getting or Giving presents: Both. I love finding the perfect gift for someone and watching their face when they open it. But I also enjoy the same in return. It doesn't have to be expensive, it really is the thought that counts.
8. Favorite Pattern: Polka dots. Obscenely colored, random or ordered, everywhere.
9. Favorite Day of the Week: Saturday.
10. Favorite Flower: Daisies. Pretty, simple, elegant.

I'm supposed to tag 7 of you, but so many of you have already received this. If you're here, and you're a regular reader, I follow and enjoy your blog as well. I'd like you to have this and have fun with it and tell us all about yourself. And let me know in the comments that you've picked up the award so we can all come visit you ^_^

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The New Shiny

I've mentioned before I was working on something new. I'm kind of itching to get back to it, but I need to finish this current revision first.

But before I got sucked back into revisions, I wrote a couple of short stories around the characters for my new idea. They've come alive for me already and I miss them. So since I can't play in their world today, I thought I'd share a snippet from one of their short stories instead. (FYI - Taylor's the guy, Max is the girl. This is a snippet so that might be confusing up front).

What are you working on right now? And if it's not what you want to be working on, what's keeping you from your real desire?

Snippets of the night before drifted back to Taylor as consciousness set in. He couldn’t believe he had finally told Max how he felt. And the after…parts of him still tingled. He frowned when he realized he was the only person in the bed. Had she moved back into her own?

He forced his eyes open and rolled his head toward the second queen mattress. Unslept in. He couldn’t hear the shower running either. He sat up with a jolt. Where was she? Sunshine fell into his eyes from the crack in the curtains, and he winced.

A strange noise hummed through the room. What the hell? He looked around, gaze falling on his phone. It was vibrating against the nightstand. He needed to calm down. She had probably just gone out for food or something. He grabbed the phone, a flicker of a smile crossing his lips when he saw it was her. “Hey, you.”

“Hello?” an unfamiliar voice greeted him.

His brow furrowed. “Who is this?”

“I’m sorry, sir. I’m a nurse at Alpine memorial. Do you know a Maxine Robbins? You were the only number in her phone.”

Shit. His stomach dropped into his feet. “Yes.”

“We need you to come down here and help us fill out some paperwork.”

“Wait, what?” He slid on his shoes and grabbed his car keys, already heading toward the door. “Is she all right?”

“She’ll be fine, sir. But there was an assault. Do you know where we’re located?”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes.” Taylor dropped his phone into his pocket before she could say anything else.

The drive to the hospital took forever. He usually used the other drivers’ emotions to move more easily through traffic, but he couldn’t focus that day. Horns blared each time he cut someone off, and his nerves were shot by the time he pulled up to the hospital.

He tried to feel relieved when a nurse knew exactly why he was there and led him toward the back rooms. But all he could think about was Max. He was shown to an exam room near the back of the hall

Max looked up when the door swung open. A bandage covered the right side of her forehead, and a large bruise was visible beneath her shirt sleeve. But at least she was she was sitting, her legs swinging over the edge of the bed.

Taylor let out a tiny laugh and stepped forward.

Her eyes grew wide and she scooted back, shaking her head. “Don’t.”

He stopped halfway across the room, searching her face for information. Nothing was there but fear. “Max?”

She stood and backed away.

“Miss, you need to stay in bed until the doctor says otherwise,” the nurse warned.

“Go away,” Max growled, eyes never leaving Taylor.

“But-” What had he done?

“They found me.” The three words crossed her lips, and suddenly it all made sense. “Run.”

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Rituals & Not Talking About My Writing

I've adopted a new routine in the last few months. It's how I finished my NaNo novels, and so far it's been the best habit I've ever picked up for my writing. It's propelled me through more words in the last five months than in the previous five years.

Okay, that might be a little bit of an exaggeration. how about, it's propelled me through more keep-able words?

On Saturday mornings, and sometimes Sundays depending on life, I go out before most of the world is awake (6 or 7). I take my notebook, or sometimes printed pages of my current WIP, and I go to this friendly little place to sit and brainstorm and drink coffee.

It took me a few tries to find the right place, but the one I finally landed on is close to home and has something none of the others had - quiet clientele and staff. The people who work Saturdays know me, and they're friendly but not chatty. Chatty is okay, except when I'm trying to write.

So they bring me my coffee and I hole up and just brain storm for an hour or two. I get so much on paper. I have a general idea when I get there of what I want to sketch out, and I dive into those chapters. Except this week I've been editing my story instead. I have a printed version of it so I can make notes but not changes, and I'm poring through it.

There was a different manager working this weekend. A chatty one. On Saturday she said "Getting a lot of studying done?" And I was flattered because I assumed that meant she thought I was a college student. That must mean it's because I'm so youthful, right? It has nothing to do with the fact that the place is almost right across the street from the community college and they get people in there all the time - of all ages - studying.

And then the next day she said again "Still studying, huh?"

And I had to correct her. "Actually, I'm editing a novel."

And she said "Oh. How fun."

Long awkward pause.

She said "Your novel?"

"Yes."

Longer, more awkard pause, where I thought 'do you expect me to tell you about it? Please don't make me tell you about it. Because then you'll have to pretend it sounds interesting even though it won't be and we'll both feel kind of not-right afterwards'

And she was probably thinking 'Am I supposed to ask you about it now? Because I really don't want to know, and then I'll have to pretend it sounds interesting even though it probably won't'.

Fortunately then she said "Well, good luck, let us know if you need anything."

And I didn't see her the rest of the hour.

I'd like to think if I had anything more interesting to tell her, like 'it's the second in a trilogy, here's a bookmark for the first' that I would have, but odds on that are only 50/50.

So, I hear all these stories about people who say "I don't tell people I write because then they want to know what I write."

And I think "Really?"

Last real job, I told a room full of my new coworkers that I was a writer in my spare time. The only response I got was "you don't write about vampires, do you?"

To which I laughed and said "No" and didn't mention that the most recent short story I'd had published was a vampire story.

I've told the people here and they say "Oh, that's cool."

I told one person once, and he said "What do you write?"

But all these other people asking "what's your story about?" I don't meet those people.

I don't know if that's good or bad...

Do people ask you what your story is about?

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