Archive for April, 2013

Daily Snippet (and Tiny Report)



I accomplished just over 2k words today and completed a chapter of Surrender the Night. After the way my morning went, I’m fucking taking it. Thank you amazing husband who watched the boy for several hours so I could get my shit together. ❤

And now, for something completely different:

“Callahan? Are you okay?” 

Jazz started at the voice, snapping his head over to its source. Mitchel stood behind him, an eyebrow half-cocked as he regarded Jazz oddly. “I’m fine,” Jazz answered, his voice betraying him as it cracked with emotion. “Just — heading home.”

Mitchel’s eyebrow just raised higher before he shook his head, approaching Jazz slowly. “I take it you don’t agree with Bates’s suggestion, as well?” he asked, placing his hands in his pockets. 

“I don’t,” Jazz answered. “For — lots of reasons,” he added, turning away from Mitchel. 

“I take it the Emperor did not take the time to listen to your concerns?” Mitchel pressed, putting a hand on Jazz’s shoulder. He gave Jazz a sympathetic look. “I’m not entirely sure I agree with the idea, myself. While the Emperor and the Hooban Queen get along rather well, I don’t feel approaching this singular terrorist attack as a unit will work in our favor.” 

“I don’t, either,” Jazz muttered, brushing Mitchel’s hand off his shoulder. He turned away from him, heading back towards his apartment once again. Mitchel walked beside him. “So what do you think we should do?” he asked after a while, sounding unsure of himself. “Ryin usually listens to me — but I don’t think he’s going to, in this case.”

“He likely won’t,” Mitchel said, shrugging his shoulder. “It’s best to wait and see, Callahan. At the very least, the Emperor will bring up the suggestion to Queen Jordine. If she accepts, he’ll have to reopen the discussion with his Council, and we’ll have our chance to speak on the matter.”

“I guess…” Jazz sighed. He turned to Mitchel, giving him a half-smile. “It’s good to know that there’s at least one person who agrees with me.”

Mitchel smiled back. “I’m sure there are more of us that agree with you than you think, Callahan. You just have to trust your voice more in the meetings. You have more useful things to say than some members of the Emperor’s Council. And you work harder, as well. I have to admit, I’m really quite impressed with your progress over the past year or so.”

Jazz nodded and looked away, feeling his own smile grow wider as his cheeks felt warmer than usual. “Thanks, Mitchel. I think I really needed to hear that.” 

“You’re welcome, Callahan.”

Yeah, you. The think that controls all of my actions and thoughts and whatnot. This morning, you could have been more productive. If it weren’t for your excellent spouse, you might not have even written anything today. And you’re still writing now, but you know you have to stop soon and make dinner and start the very long, arduous task of making dinner, watching the three year old and keeping him entertained.

So why you no wanna write this morning? Or at least, why did it take you so damn long to get started on anything? I know you finished “Whose Ass is Better?” (yes, that’s the title; no, it’s every bit as awful as you think it is) and submitted it, starting that uncomfortable process of waiting to hear back from the publishers. You’ve seen the work that particular press promotes. Are you sure you really want to be associated with that? Then again, you did give them your pen name, and you need to get used to stepping outside your comfort zone….

I guess that’s why you latched on to this other anthology. Submission period starts tomorrow. You have the whole month to develop and polish a piece between 1000-6000 words. Why do you need to get it out of your system now now now? Do you feel better, brain, writing the first two (tiny) sections of it? 

I hate you sometimes. I hope you know that. I just wanted to write some more of book 2 today. Is that so much to ask? Oh wait, you did let me write a section of that. But now you don’t want to do more work and you only added roughly 600 words to your manuscript. You know that’s not nearly enough, brain.

C’mon. Let’s get back to work.



Daily Report & Snippet


Some days, you just gotta go with the flow. Finish the little, half-forgotten projects that have been collecting dust in those folders hidden away in Drive. Pick up those tiny projects and go, “Hey, you only have many 1000 more words to go, let me add those right now!”

And you do.

And it’s glorious. 

Of course, it certainly doesn’t help that one of those projects is nothing but pure smut, its flimsy plot revolving around getting two best friends to drunkenly fuck each other one evening. The other? Well, it’s not quite as short — seven chapters long as of this evening and counting, but that project is purely for fun. Purely for you to explore a plot thread that’ll never get explored in the trilogy’s canon, for you to split the main canon pairing up and to play with the least likely pairing ever. 

And that chapter comes easily — once you get over the fact that yeah, the unconventional pair are going to have phone sex right the fuck now instead of having an actual discussion of their relationship and where they really stand with one another. They do what they want. It’s not the canon, after all. You have less control over them in the For Fun Project than you do in the canon. 

But then something amazing happens. The partner left behind from the canon pairing? Has a surprising moment of clarity, as shown here:

My stomach is down at my feet one moment and trying to escape through my throat the next. Swallowing thickly, I ignore the stinging in my eyes. “You slept with him before we got married?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. Jazz sighs and nods his head slowly. “So — when Mitchel wanted to speak at our wedding –”

“He wanted to tell you that I had cheated on you with him, yes,” Jazz admits, his eyes filling with tears. “But he manipulated me, convinced me that sleeping with him was something I really wanted, and –” He pauses, biting his lip and collapsing onto the provided couch. “I just — I never felt so guilty about something in my fucking life, and I never wanted to tell you, and — I’m sorry.”

I nod my head slowly, sitting down beside him. “Manipulated you, how?” I dare to ask, locking my eyes with his.

“He just — he really had me convinced he cared, y’know?” Jazz says, sighing. He wipes his eyes and sniffs. “Had me convinced you were this awful person, used my own emotions against me to get me to give in to him. I mean, it didn’t help that we had slept together before you and I started dating, but — he just seemed to really care about me and he didn’t. He just — wanted me all to himself.”

Jazz turns to me, then, his eyes wide and sad. He reaches for my hand, interlocking our fingers together. “Look,” he starts, his voice shaking. “We both need to work things out for ourselves. If that –” He pauses, clearing his throat and closing his eyes as if to steel himself. “If that means you need to — to be with Mitchel, for the time being, fine. Just — just be careful, okay?” He squeezes my fingers and leans forward, brushing his lips against mine. “I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

And just like that, he’s getting up from the couch and letting go of me entirely. I’m totally fucking speechless, only managing a stiff nod as I watch him leave my hotel room.

Did he really just let me go that easily?

And sometimes, you feel as if you could actually learn something from your own characters. Because right now, you’re Jazz, and you need to let go.

Even if it’s the absolute last thing you want to do. 



I’m gonna be completely honest here, you guys.

I hit 40k words in Book 2 and it was like my brain shut off. WOO HOO! PARTY! SLEEP! FORGET ABOUT WRITING, IT SUCKS. 

Except I had this piece I intended to submit to an anthology just languishing on my Drive, 2/3rds complete. Smut piece. My element (m/m), and I stopped right in the middle of the sexy bits. Okay, I hit my Camp NaNoWriMo goal (40k), I can take a break. Finish the anthology writing the anthology piece. Edit and submit it tomorrow. 

That takes me until 11am. No matter, I have to write a piece a writing community on LiveJournal. Because today, I’m not focusing on the book. I refuse. Need a break. Don’t wanna stare at my outline and make sense of it (I outline so roughly it might as well be random words thrown together). 

Except I forgot. See, when I start the day writing smut, that’s all I can write for the rest of the day. So I start the writerverse piece — continuing writing this piece I’m writing purely for fun. 

Phone sex.

Well damnit, boys. You weren’t supposed to get sexy! This was supposed to be a serious chapter! With emotions! And drama! 

It’s even more awkward, turning yourself on while you write and there are people up and about and you have a three year old to chase. 

At least the writing’s going well? 

Daily Report & Snippet


40k words for my first draft of Book 2! I finished two chapters today and rounded out the day with about 2600 words written. There weren’t any parts that I particularly struggled with, though the Council scene in Chapter 20 mentally kicked my ass. Too many characters speaking in one scene, too much plot in one scene, too much ahhhhh why am I writing a political dramaaaaaa in one scene, etc.

But then I got to do something I very rarely get to do, which is write someone telling Jazz off for being a know-it-all asshole. Observe:

“Fucking seriously?” Ryin snapped, pinching the bridge of his nose. He could feel the heat rising in his ears. “You really fucking think I’m only considering this idea because I want to be closer to Jordine?”

“It’s the only one that makes any damn sense to me,” Jazz stated, lifting his chin. “There are more peaceful ways to handle this –”

“Tell you what, Jasper,” Ryin growled, slamming his briefcase shut. “When you become Emperor, you can tell me how to do my fucking job. Until then, shut the fuck up and let me do what I think is best for my Empire.”

Jazz gaped at him, hurt creeping into his eyes. “I didn’t mean –”

“You fucking meant to,” Ryin hissed, snatching his briefcase off the table and turning on his heel. “Don’t even try to lie to me, Jasper. I know when you do.”

“Ryin, I’m –”

He didn’t hear the rest, not after the door shutting behind him effectively cut Jazz off. It wasn’t like Jazz would have said anything of value, anyway.