Plotting SCENT OF EVIL

When I finished editing, formatting and publishing FAERIE I needed a mental break. I started reading again, working in the garden, thinking and plotting. 

Before I started writing middle grade, I had written a paranormal romance. 
 . . . well, it wasn't much of a romance, considering I never really 'got' the hero and heroine conflict that was necessary for a romance. And it wasn't much of a paranormal in the sense it didn't involve vampires, werewolves, demons, etc. My character was a shape-shifter, but with a very weak reason to shift, if I say so myself. In hindsight, I have to admit that the entire story was too shallow.

I had the external conflict. I had the internal conflict of the heroine. And I wrote the story as a novella. I thought that I could rewrite it to make it a full length book, but then I started writing MG and shelved this story.

After editing three middle grade stories over the last five months, I needed to write something fresh. I resurrected SCENT OF EVIL.

But with a big difference.

The external plot is more convoluted. The villain has a serious purpose, which directly relates to the heroine. For those of you new to the writing biz--the villain always has a purpose. You might be able to get away with 'he was just a froot-loop' once, but the villain has a reason for being, and doing, evil.

My female protagonist has her internal conflict.

But my hero was just there.

--Though this isn't a romance, per se, I did want to deepen the conflict with the hero to add a deeper dimension to the story.

When I had a lunch date with Marilyn Pappano, I decided to pick her brains. She's the queen of writing romance and has a gazillion books under her belt. AND it helped that she had read a little of the original story when I was still in her crit group. I told her my problem and within a couple minutes of talking it out--we came up with his internal conflict! AND the conflict between the hero and heroine! YAY!

The interesting part of this whole scenario was that the answer was right in front of me, but I couldn't see it.

Can't see the forest for the trees, yanno? 

Over the last few weeks, I've been working out the details of the plot with bullet points. I've had to work the story from the conclusion back to the beginning, figuring out my red herrings and other stuff. And I think I'm ready to write . . . two days before school is out for the summer.

Yeah, my timing sucks.

I'll write my synopsis this week and I'll start writing the story. . . because there's a contest I thought I'd enter to see how people respond to it. I'll need to write 25 pages--edit and clean it up--by June 10th. Tight deadline, but I think I could pull it off.

We'll see.

Later, Peeps!

Escaping into a new story

I've been seriously driving myself nuts with FAERIE. Emails back and forth to my cover artist, editing for stupid stuff and finding big stuff, and having to rewrite my TROLL teaser, well, something had to give.

So, of course, I started a new story. Well, actually it's an old story that I'm writing from scratch. Right now, I have no idea how I would shelve this book. There's romance, but it isn't a romance. There's a shifter, but it isn't a paranormal. It has a few nasty murders, so it might be under thriller or suspense. But I'm going with the evil scientist horror-type story. And if I'm lucky, I'll toss in a few kitchen sinks and a time travel into this mess--just kidding!

Anyhoo, this is what I wrote to escape faeries, goblins, and other assorted fantasy creatures. No title yet. Shoot, I don't even know if this is Chapter One or a Prologue.

Later, Peeps!

I woke up naked.

That in itself wasn’t anything unusual, but the heavy duty metal box I was in was different.

Wind whistled through the small barred windows, driving winter’s cold even deeper into my bones as I huddled in the back corner of what I could only call a cage.

Two feet high, two feet wide and three feet long, the box definitely belonged in the cage category. I never thought I’d be thankful for being on the shrimp side of the measuring stick, but I was today.  It was a snug fit. I hated to think how they would have to grease me up to get me out if I was any bigger. I supposed I’d be squealing like a pig.

How did I manage to get myself into this mess?

My head pounded like I’d been on a drinking binge . . . for days. Thinking about anything made me want to barf. My teeth were chattering so much that I bit my tongue and the metallic taste didn’t do much for my nausea.

Hell, I couldn’t even remember my name.

Freaking out right now would be bad, real bad. I had to hold it together.

First, escape. Then revenge. I would get whoever did this to me. I wrapped my arms around my knees and rocked back and forth trying to keep warm. I had to escape. But how?

The box was pretty solid-looking with nice beading on the welds.

How in the hell would I know about welding?

Studying the box confirmed there was no way out except for the door. I could fit my hand through the bars, but that wouldn’t get me anywhere. And the door was padlocked on the outside. I could hear the lock thump every time the bastard driving this truck hit a pothole. 

And there were a lot of potholes.

Dust was kicked up and swirled behind the truck, coating everything. The glance I shot out the window confirmed I was in the bed of a rusty pickup truck. But that was all I could tell before trees flashed by and I almost puked on myself. The stench in this cage was bad enough that I didn’t have to add my own special contribution to the mix.