With Reader Calls and Muse and Whips

With Reader Calls and Muse and Whips: That’s How The Series Grows

By Brenna Lyons

I never set out to write series books. My first series was written by accident. I’m not kidding. I started writing what I thought was one book. When I passed 150,000 words, I stopped to take stock of it, thinking I had another serial in the works. No... It turned out I had three separate time lines and plot arcs, which meant it was a series.

But even before that, I ran into the issue of reader calls for more from a world. My first book was a two-book serial novel. At the end, two of my test readers insisted I’d set it up for a sequel and wanted to know what happened next. I disagreed. I had tied up every thread and left no space for a sequel. Nine years later, I’m eating my words. Until six months ago, I would have stated categorically that the readers were wrong about that book.

It wasn’t the first time I had to eat my words. When my third book came out, the readers said the same thing. “You set us up for the sequel. When are you giving it to us?” What? No I... Yes, I had. That time, I saw it, and four books later, I was writing the sequel to it.

By the time I got to my first planned series, the readers were more specific. “When do we get this character’s book? Oh, and that character, too?” I would like to say I didn’t see the books coming, but somewhere in the back of my subconscious, I had woven the threads in to the early books that allowed the rest to unfold. Bad muse!

I mean...good, smart, wonderful muse. You can put the whip down now. I’m writing.

It took that long for the muse to start hitting me directly with ideas. Now, shutting them off is difficult. When I wrote the first Xxan book, Close Enough to Human, I let myself believe it was a stand-alone until second draft. At that point, I realized I’d already set the stage for book two, Mating Season (which is a prequel to Close Enough to Human). Halfway through writing Mating Season, I realized I’d set up the threads for five more stories, two prequels and three that come after CETH.

This is how a series grows. At first, it may take readers pointing out what you’d unknowingly set up to continue the world. After that, the muse picks up the whip and does it for them.

Here's a peek at the first four of seven planned works in the series...

Close Enough To Human- It's the culmination of a lifetime of training. Miri Johns is about to meet humans for the first time, as a negotiator for the Xxan who created her. What she doesn't know is that she's part decoy to hide an attack and part cannon fodder. Worse, when it all blows up, she finds herself captured by the humans, an illegal cross-bred experiment used as a weapon against them. The best she can hope for is that they'll kill her without torturing her too badly first. Since she's under a sentence of death on Xxan, whatever the humans do can't possibly be worse.

Aleeks Daahn is a natural-born cross-bred, raised on Earth, and the team leader of an elite military unit. He doesn't question that Mirienne Johns wasn't complicit in the plot against the human council; beyond that, nothing makes sense about her. Why wasn't she claimed by her Xxanian father? Why does the sight of a Dominant male send her into a panic attack? How did she choose the Grea Elders she killed?

There's more Xxan in these two than their peculiar skin and eyes. Cross-bred Xxan-Humans have fierce mating instincts, and with Miri at the height of fertility, Aleeks may not be able to control the Xxan need to Dominate and claim his young prisoner. Nor does he want to control it.

Cover art by Christine Griffin
HEA-yes, VIOLENCE-moderate, LANGUAGE-moderate, SEX-highly erotic- Dom, anal sex

To purchase CLOSE ENOUGH TO HUMAN from Loose-Id in e-book...

Mating Season- Zondra Daahn has hit her quickening with both feet and no warning. She's on the prowl for a male to sate her, unable to wait for a Xxan mix male to be sent to her, and Evan Duncan is just the overbearing, alpha male she needs. There are a few little problems, of course. In human years, she's not quite seventeen, she's the fleet Admiral's goddaughter, and the powerful Zhigaaah (sex pheromones) at her quickening may permanently tie Evan to her. Worse, being human means he can't bind her as a Xxan male would and give her children...or can he?

HEA-yes, VIOLENCE-high, LANGUAGE-moderate, SEX-highly erotic

Quickening- Sylvana Duncan seems to have escaped all the signs of being Xxan, save a precious few: allergies to certain medications, an intense reaction to biting cold...and a quickening. It's later than they usually come and without the Zhigaaah that might bind a human male accidentally. Neither does she want to be bound accidentally by a Xxanian male. She's just human enough that it's possible, after all. So, it's going to be a human man to sate her drives. Better yet, make it two dominant males with nice hard cocks. Jarrod and Joe are just what the doctor ordered, brothers with a taste for sharing their women. But Syl may be the one woman they can't forget, Zhigaaah or no.

HEA-yes, VIOLENCE-mild, LANGUAGE-moderate, SEX-highly erotic

Daahn Captured- Once upon a time, at the height of the Xxan-Human conflict, there was a Grea Elder with no equal on the battle field. When a lucky young commander for the human forces captures him, Daahn is considered dead to his own. He's being held by barbarians, lorded over by the cocky Matthew MacNair. It takes years for Daahn to come to terms with the fact that the humans have redeeming qualities, besides the battle sense of one lone man. It takes a moment for one fertile human woman to catch his attention and seal all their fates.

HEA-yes, VIOLENCE-high, LANGUAGE-moderate, SEX-highly erotic

Out of practice

I'm usually pretty good about writing daily. It's how I get by with this writing gig. I'm not a fast writer. I'm a consistent writer. Usually.



With the holidays I got out of sync while the kids were home. No problem. I'd just crank it up once the New Year hit. Only it didn't work out that way.



I started off the year with bronchitis and it kicked me down a few times. Then, we all had the stomach bug.



So here it stands January 28th, and I've written very little for the year. I'm finally getting back into a writing routine. I'm hoping to reach 7 K by the end of this week. Now, of course, I'm panicked that I'm so behind and I need to get something into the editor. *deep breath*



The time I did take off, I did think a lot about the book. It had some holes. Some things I didn't know what to fill in. And now, I feel much better about the story because I have filled those things in. I know in my mind where it is going and how to get there. I know I can't take that much time off with just thinking about the book with every story. But I do think it helped this one.



I hope I get back into the groove now. We will see. I feel so out of practice. I tweeted Monday about writing 2 K and said I thought I'd forgotten how. I really was beginning to wonder.



Mechele Armstrong aka Lany of Melany Logen

http://www.mechelearmstrong.com/

http://www.melanylogen.com/

Why does the second husband always die?

Like many of you I trundled along to see one of the big hits of 2009, 2012. (Yes, that does look odd written that way, doesn’t it). And since I’m a great fan of totally ridiculously impossible action-adventure stories featuring feats of magnificence no mere mortal has a hope of reproducing (aka we have no MacGuyver abilities whatsoever) I thought it was pretty good.

But I walked away from the movie with one big disappointment.

Why-oh-why did the nice, turned-out-to-be-quite-the-hero second husband have to die? It would have been rather refreshing to have a story where for once the poor second husband didn’t get gypped for taking on the first marriage baggage and making it work anyway.

Maybe I’m projecting too much reality into my movie watching desires, after all the amount of divorces that end up in a remarriage are rather slim. I would very much believe a ‘we’ve been able to become friends again’ scenario though.

Especially in 2012.

Husband #2 might have been a little bit of a milquetoast safe-bet of a partner after the ups and downs of husband #1, but he stepped up to the plate when push came to shove to save the ones he loved (and some he didn’t). In fact, the story hinges on husband #2’s abilities to be able to fly a plane, yet die—and pretty dramatically—he does.

Do scriptwriters think it’s impossible for viewers to expand their view to encompass an ending where marriage #2 is a winner? Do they think all divorced people are secretly still moping over partner #1?

And why is this the polar reverse to Romanceland?

In Romances it’s traditionally the other way around. The first husband dies (sometimes of a banal reason like she was married off to an old codger and his heart gave out; others because they deserved it for their violent behaviour/actions) leaving the floor clear for that first young love to come back and take his rightful place. It’s not a commonly found story where the heroine was quite happy with marriage #1 and looks back with fondness, love and heartache at having lost their first husband.

Movies often have marriage #2 only exist until partner #1 pulls their head out of their arse, Romance has #1 existing only as a placeholder (and giver of angst/drama) until husband #2 comes along to save the day. I wonder why such different points of view about marriage (and subsequent divorce) #1 from movies to romance reading?



(duplicated from my personal blog)

Anne Douglas

annedouglas.com

Twitter.com/annedouglas

Now Available: An Uncommon Whore!

It's been a long haul for this book, but I'm delighted that it is now available at Loose Id! Many thanks to everyone who worked on this book, but special kudos to my editor Sandra and to PL Nunn for the stunning cover!

Please enjoy the book trailer for An Uncommon Whore!

To find out more about Belinda and her upcoming projects, please visit her website at www.belindamcbride.com and her blog at www.belindam.blogspot.com

You can purchase An Uncommon Whore at http://www.loose-id.com/An-Uncommon-Whore.aspx

Worth The Wait - Lynn Lorenz

Well, it's been nearly a year since my last medieval gay romance release, Jackson's Pride. Tuesday, the sequel, Baymore's Heir is due out and I can't wait. Yeehaw!

This story takes place after Will and Jackson have found their HEA. They share their lives and love at Baymore Castle; Will running the holdings and Jackson being duke, and perhaps getting a little bored. So when Will's brother Wallace invites them to attend his newborn's christening, both men are up for a little road trip.

For Will, it's not the best visit home. His brother and his wife have two kids now, and Will's not a kid-friendly sort of guy. He has to stand up at the ceremony and look interested in a screaming child. His father doesn't know Will's gay, and in love with Jackson. And to top it all off, his father keeps insisting that Jackson should marry, produce an heir, and get on with the business of being a duke. It's all working Will's last nerve.

However, for these medieval men, what happens at Baymore, stays at Baymore, and so Will must behave. Unless he's at a party, been drinking far too much, and trying to hide the deadly truth that he's in love with a man, while being so turned on he can barely keep his eyes and hands off that man.

Jackson, who feels he's still out of his league among the nobility, takes what Will's father, the honorable Duke of Holcombe, has to say to heart. He really should have an heir. Someone to pass on the Baymore name and lands to. A son.

And it's this one idea, a common plight of the nobility, the old "heir and a spare," that could just lead to Will and Jackson's downfall.

Because, after all this time, Jackson still has his pride, and Will is so committed to Jackson that he would do whatever Jackson said, despite knowing it wasn't the smartest thing he's ever done.

This is a tale of desperation...Jackson's, Will's and all the people they drag into their half-baked plan to get Jackson that heir he wants.

Once in the hole, how do you get out? Perhaps on the backs of the people who've fallen in with you? If you're truly desperate, how far would you go?

For Will and Jackson, they've certainly dug their own hole and they either have to lie in it or get out of it, but one thing's for sure, if they're not careful, they might end up dead.

Excerpt -

“I need to see your face, my lord. Look into your eyes, see your soul in their blue depths.” Jackson nuzzled Will’s throat, his tongue painting its way up to Will’s ear, then taking the lobe between his teeth. A shiver ran through Will, and a soft echo stirred deep inside his loins.

Will gasped as Jackson nipped him.

It was too soon for his rod to stiffen, but he enjoyed the feelings that danced over the sensitive skin that sheathed it and in the slight tightening of his stones and the sac that held them.

Jackson crawled between Will’s legs, spread them open, and pushed Will’s knees up and apart, splitting him open.

“Fuck me, you’re beautiful, Will.” Jackson gazed at Will’s ass. “See? Just there.” Jackson touched his finger to the soft skin between Will’s hole and his sac. “No. You can’t see. Pity. If you could, you would be as taken with the sight as I am.”

“What do you see, my love?”

“Your tight ass.” Jackson licked his lips. “It’s perfect. Pink. It resembles a young rose, closed tight to the world, not yet unfurled. I wish to open your rose. To make it bloom with pleasure.”

Will’s head fell back as Jackson’s poetry washed over him, as rain from the sky, bathing him in desire.

“My rose awaits your staff.”

Jackson leaned down, pushing up on Will’s legs, and as Jackson dragged his tongue over Will’s sac, Will cried out. Will’s cock filled with blood, and it grew hard against his belly.

His lover didn’t stop there. Jackson sucked a stone into his mouth, then pulled it away, stretching the skin until all Will could do was beg Jackson to release it.

God, the pain was so sweet and added to the strength of his erection. When Jackson moved to the other side, Will thought he’d lose his mind. The pain was so pure, so intense as it surged through his body, tingling in the base of his spine.

“Fuck me. Now. Please.” Will moaned.

“Aye, my sweet William.” Jackson pressed the tip of his cock into Will, Will pushed into it, and his bud opened. Jackson slipped inside, filling Will completely. After he let a few hammer beats of his heart pass, Will reached up and buried his fingers in Jackson’s dark red mane.

“Now,” Will commanded.

Jackson obeyed.

They rode their pleasure, each move reflected in the subtle shift of their bodies, the quiet intake of air, the harsh exhale of a cry gasped, the shared gaze in their eyes, as they built in the climb to completion.

Blue eyes bored into brown, hands clenched hair, skin, hips, neck. Jackson’s breath in was Will’s breath out, locked together, body, heart, and soul, as they coupled, mated, joined in their love.

Jackson cupped Will’s cheek, and rested his forehead against Will’s. “My life is yours.”

“I am yours. Command me.” There was nothing Will would not do for this man.

“Just love me.” Jackson gave a final thrust, stilled, and spilled.

Will joined him, painting his own belly with ropes of white.

Jackson gave a final toss of his sweat-dampened head and pulled gently out of Will’s ass, then fell to the side on the bed, one arm flung over his face.

Will settled into the crook of that arm, his head rested on Jackson’s shoulder.

For a while, they dozed.

Out of long habit, Will woke before dawn, but unlike the times before, Jackson wasn’t asleep. No soft snore filled the quiet of the room. Jackson lay awake, his gaze focused out of the window, at the night sky.

“Something troubles you, Your Grace?” Will whispered.

“Aye. I have had a thought and have not been able to escape it.” Jackson sighed.

Will ran his hand over Jackson’s broad chest. “Tell me. Perhaps I can help.”

“You are the only one who can, my lord.”

“Then name it and it is done.”

Jackson fell silent. His lips turned down, his brow furrowed. All in all a most severe look. Had Will earned his displeasure?

“If anything happened to me, Will, what would happen to Baymore?”

“Baymore?”

“Aye. This place. The land. The people.”

Will fell silent. What would happen? “I suppose, it might fall to some lesser noble, if he dared to try to win it.”

“You could not hold the land or the title.”

“Nay. Not without the armsmen’s backing and the lesser lord’s oaths.” Will frowned. “I might convince them, but it would take more than words to do so. I’d have to spend much from the coffers to ensure their loyalty.”

“Aye, as I thought. But Will, if there were someone? A true Baymore? What then?”

“Well, that would be different. The men have given oath to Baymore and to you. That includes all who hold the Baymore name.”

Jackson gave a slow nod. “Then what must be done is clear.”

“What must be done?” Will wasn’t sure what Jackson spoke of, but he knew it pressed heavy on Jackson’s mind.

“I must have a son, Will. I must marry.”

The bed Will lay on dropped away, and he hung in the air for just a moment, then plummeted, as a dove falls from the sky, an arrow struck through its heart. His stomach rose in his throat as his lifeless body tumbled away into oblivion. His vision narrowed and all he saw was the night sky in the window receding, stretching farther and farther away, until the moon and the stars were but points of dim light.

“And you must arrange it. As my steward, you must find me a wife.” Jackson’s words echoed, as if from very far away.

Will opened his mouth, but no reasonable sound escaped; only a cry of utter destruction gathered in the pit of his stomach and roiled, burning and hot, upward in his throat. When it reached his mouth, he clamped his lips shut against it, refusing to give it a voice.

This could not be. This was insanity.

He must be dreaming. That was it, he slept, and this was nothing more than a dream, some horrible nightmare. If he could just keep from screaming, he would awaken, still held tight in Jackson’s arms.

Jackson sat up, took Will by the shoulder, and shook him. “Will. Did you hear me?”

Will stared up at his lover of the last two years. The man he’d killed for, the man he’d left his home, his family, his father for. The man he loved more than his own life.

“I said, you must find me a wife. I must have a son. I must have an heir.” Jackson’s words, as deadly as any sword Jackson had ever wielded, stabbed Will in the heart, leaving him dead.

Oh God, this was no dream. This was hell. Damnation. Punishment from God for his past sins, for the sin of lying with another man and for loving another man.

Of all the things Jackson could have asked him, nothing could have been more unexpected, more shocking, or more impossible for Will to do.

Will’s hands trembled as he sat up. He got out of bed, found his breeches, and slipped them on, fighting back the burning in his eyes, the tears threatening to spill, the bleeding of his heart, cut out of his chest. Yet, he still lived. Dead, but alive.

He pulled the strings tight, straightened, and faced his lover.

“Is that what you truly wish, Your Grace?” His voice didn’t shake.

Jackson smiled at him and nodded.

Will walked to the door, raised the bar, and opened it.

“Then I will do as you command, Your Grace,” he whispered, then slipped out.

The door closed behind him.

Baymore's Heir available Jan 26 at Loose Id

Lynn Lorenz

http://www.lynnlorenz/

An Uncommon Whore: The Journey

From childhood, I’ve been an avid reader, and the stories that made the most impact on me were frequently the fantasies that featured a heroic journey. The Tolkien Trilogy and the Hobbit are the first that come to mind, but there were other stories that feature heroes and heroines on a quest of some sort. That influence tends to show in some of my stories. I like taking characters out of their comfort zone and sending them down the road.

The journey is symbolic. I like to use the journey or quest to reflect the inner evolution of my characters. In Belle Starr, Belle goes on a hunt for a criminal. Later, that journey becomes a desperate search for her missing companion, the wolf Tucker. From the beginning of that hunt, to the end, she evolves as a character. Her priorities change, as does her entire perspective on life.

In my new release, An Uncommon Whore, the majority of the book takes place as Helios Dayspring and Griffin Hawke travel to their new home planet. At the beginning of the story, Helios is a fairly simple man. His needs and wants consist mainly of freeing himself from slavery and getting off the planet that he’s been trapped on. Beyond that, he has no goals, and few desires. As the journey continues, he becomes more complex, and while he stays true to the kind, clever man he is at the start of the book, by the time the journey ends, he is returned to his true destiny in life. Perhaps he’s a better man because of the trials that he’s experienced.

Captain Griffin Hawke was a bit of a challenge. Since the story is told from the point of view of Helios, he observes and documents the changes in Griffin. The Captain’s journey is largely emotional. His hurdles are those of trust, faith and self-worth. There is no doubt that he loves Helios, but Griffin can’t see any future beyond the end of the journey. He’s locked in the past and has no faith that their relationship will endure. While Helios has no memories at all, Griffin is crippled by too many memories. Time has crushed his dreams and hopes, and as the journey unwinds, he slowly rediscovers those dreams and once again begins to hope for a better life.

Every story is a journey of sorts. At the end of this story, we see that in reality, Helios' and Griffin's story is really just beginning.

An Uncommon Whore releases January 26 at Loose Id publishing.

Please visit my website: http://www.belindamcbride.com

Thoughts on a Rainy Afternoon

I’ve been having trouble reading fiction for some time. I’m not sure why -- it’s me, not the stories -- but I seem unable to focus. Anyway, last night I gave up on trying anything new and pulled out a tried-and-true favorite.

As I slowly scanned it, paragraph by paragraph, wondering at all that happened between the lines, it occurred to me what a strange, magical thing storytelling is.

When it works, it’s incredible. You’re there. You’re in that world, you’re feeling everything the characters feel, even as you’re predicting -- as they cannot -- what the outcome of their adventures will be. I think one of the most wonderful things about fiction is its ability to transport us, to make us part of another world, to live through other characters for a little while. For a short time the concerns of these characters seem more important than your own. Maybe that’s why good fiction is both exciting and relaxing.

Even a story that I’ve read as often as I have this one -- and even though this story is flawed (there’s a significant gap where characters who are out for a walk in the afternoon are suddenly home in bed at one in the morning) -- I love it. I keep poring over it as though it were a mystical text, wondering at the bits that were left out, wondering at the scenes that went unwritten, wondering what happened to the characters after the final page is turned. What did they say? What did they do? What exactly did that look mean?




I read it again and again, knowing that nothing will change -- nothing will have been added while I wasn’t looking, and everything still works out in the end -- yet I keep reading, keep wincing at the cruel words, smiling at the jokes, feeling relief when it all turns out happy.

Of course as a writer, it’s a little different. I can feel this for other stories, but I can’t feel it for my own. Readers write to tell me how much they worry about Adrien and Jake or how they hope everything turned out for James and Sedge or how they can’t wait until the next Will and Taylor story. Is Taylor's lung okay? Is Will going to cheat? They ask questions and analyze and…they are clearly as involved in the stories I write as I am -- though in a different way. They are as involved as I am in the stories of the authors I love. But for my own work…it’s not there. I can never see these stories as a reader does. I can never be moved by them the same way. They are never real to me in the same way.

That’s not to say that I’m not moved when I write my stories, or that I don’t lose myself in the world of my imagination -- I absolutely am and do. In fact, writing is almost like a drug. A dream. A waking dream. When you’re deep into the zone…when you’re at the point that even when you’re not writing, you’re still running the dialog, working out the plot knots, thinking through the character’s eyes…there’s nothing like it. It’s more intense than any book (though not nearly as relaxing or exciting).

It’s intense, but it’s not the same thing.

So it’s fascinating to watch readers react to the things you create. I totally understand where they’re coming from because first and foremost I am a passionate lover of books and stories. And it’s touching to think that I can do for some readers what my favorite writers do for me.




And I can even sympathize when they suggest that I write this rather than that. I feel that too. Why didn't my favorite writer ever write this scene? Why didn't she do a story where that happened? But being a writer, I know it doesn't work like that. First and foremost you have to enjoy what you write. We write for ourselves. We publish for others. I write what I like and I publish in the hopes that enough readers will enjoy my stories to make it worth my while to share them. I choose to share them, but I'd continue to write whether I published or not.

It's still a surprise -- and a delight -- that so many readers do like what I do. But for those who want me to write something else, all I can do is gently point out that first and foremost I have to enjoy what I write. The stories come to me and I like certain kinds of stories. Those certain kinds of stories are the ones I'm interested in writing. Lovely if our literary wants and needs coincide, but either way, I can only write what moves me to write.

And yet I do sympathize as I pore over this beloved story one more time, silently bemoaning the scenes the author skipped, and the conversations the characters didn't have, and -- worst of all -- the fact that this author quit writing all together. So few stories! Why did she do that? And is there a way to talk her round to starting up again?

Can you be persuaded back to loving something once you've moved on to something else? I've never found that to be true of myself. Maybe.



Just some thoughts for a rainy afternoon…

Series

The trouble with blogging is that you often belong to multiple blogs and end up having to post to a bunch of them around the same time. That's where I find myself today. I've posted to two blogs in the past week -- my own site and Fiction with Friction -- about writing series so that's what seems to be on my mine.

I'm currently working on the fourth book about Meg, Michael and Rudy in my Leashed series. Technically, it's the fifth book in the series, but one of them was about Meg's sister Noelle, not about Meg.

Leashed is one of my three mains series. In the past year, something momentous occurred in the other two. I finished them. Now, that's not to say that I won't ever write in those worlds again or won't write in those worlds. In the case of the Dark Elves, there's a whole fantasy world that I've invested a lot of time in so I probably will go back some day. In the case of Heaven Sent, I already have plans to include the guys as secondary characters in another series I plan, the Indigo Knights. But as far as the main arc of those two series goes, it's over. I've told what needed to be told and all the primary players -- and some of the secondary -- have found their HEA.

So what's next? That's the rub. I'm not sure. Other than the Knights, there's the world of Sursein Judgment to return to. Colt must have his story, after all. I've been asked to write a sequel to Just for You to find out what happens to Victor. But I really want to come up with something new. Another something I can turn into a series of books that works. That's what I like and that's what my readers seem to like as well. A series of stories that are their own thing but are part of a bigger whole. That's like life, isn't it?