What Inspires Part Two

A picture is worth a thousand words. Or so they say. For me, there was a pic that was worth about three thousand.

But this time it took some work.

The pic was chosen specifically. And then I stared at it. For a really long time. I had the barest snippet of a thought. I knew I had to use this pic. But for the longest time, I had no idea how I was going to turn it into a flash fic.

And then one of the characters started talking. Just one sentence. One line. In my head he said “Aren’t you tired of hiding?” And then I knew. I knew where the short story was going to go. I knew what would happen. And I started writing. It went a bit darker than I was thinking, but it ends with hope. And then it got a part two.

I love it when the muse takes over like that. When I’m not certain, exactly, what’s going to come out of my fingers. When I’m really able to just roll with what I see in my head and the scene takes shape before my eyes as words on the screen. When what I’m actually seeing translates to the page.

And next week, you can see what happens. On Friday, I’ll explain more.


What Inspires

I’ve talked about it a bit before but I want to do it again. The way my mind gets an idea, the way I get inspired, is something that continually surprises me.

The smallest thing can set me off. A phrase, an action, a picture. And then it’s like a scene is playing in my head. Sometimes I don’t even know much about the characters. Or the story as a whole. It’s just a scene. The story develops, or doesn’t, from there. A lot of them turn into flash fics. You may remember, back towards the beginning, the story of a man coming home to discover his roommate had decorated the whole house with mistletoe in the middle of July. Adam and Jamie were inspired by a pic of two guys kissing under the mistletoe. I saw that pic, and then my brain showed me a different scene. Of Adam coming home, the house decorated, and him being shocked because it was summer.

I always roll with what my brain shows me. Maybe it doesn’t amount to anything. Maybe it does. Sometimes it lingers, and sometimes it’s just a flash in the pan. But who am I to question what my brain sees? It’s given me some good stuff that provides both you and me with a few minutes entertainment.

Tune in Wednesday to hear about my latest inspiration.

Flash Fic Friday

Flash Fic Friday

They unseasonably cool temperature meant that Kyle wasn’t even breaking a sweat as did yard work. He was very particular about the way things should be done, and he worked hard at keeping everything nice. It was also a chore he loved doing. Which worked out well, because it was the one thing I really loathed. I’d scrub the bathroom everyday if it meant I didn’t have to weed. There were bugs in the weeds.

I stood at the front window, peering out at him and watching the muscles play beneath his tight shirt as he worked. The good thing about the weather was that Kyle was comfortable as he worked outside. The bad thing was that he hadn’t lost his shirt, and that was my biweekly eye candy.

We had mutual friends, so when my building went condo and I’d either have to buy my place–which I couldn’t afford–or move out, they suggested I talk to Kyle. He owned a large house and was looking for a roommate to help defray some if the cost. We hit it off, I moved in, and we’d been getting along great for the last two years. It had worked out perfectly.

Except for the fact that is fallen in love with him.

Kyle was a solid, loyal, all around good guy. And a walking wet dream. But I never got the feeling that he wanted me too. So I kept my feelings to myself and tried to forget about him by hooking up with random guys and dating anyone who showed an interest. But even that was getting old. And in the last few months, I hadn’t done anything with anyone but my right hand.

Kyle finished his work, gathered his lawn care equipment, and headed around the side of the house to put it away in the shed. I faded from the window. By the time he entered the house, I was sitting at the table, a large glass of ice water ready for him. He grinned at me as he took a large swallow.

“I need a shower,” he said conversationally. He stretched his arms over his head to show off a tantalizing bit of skin at his stomach. “Wash off all this grime. Care to join me?”

I started and stared open-mouthed, sure I had heard him wrong.

His smile softened and his eyes filled with affection. “You’re done with all that running around. I know it. So it’s time for you to give us a chance.”

I should explain. I should tell him that he was the reason that I’d done those things. But I wasn’t stupid. We could have that conversation later. He was giving me the sign if been waiting for and I wasn’t about to pass the opportunity up. I stood, grinned, whipped off my shirt, and raced him to the bathroom. He chased me, laughing.

My heart was light. Finally.


When The Idea Strikes

So we all know I’m a combination plotter and pantser. I write what inspires me, I know the basic gist of the plot, I sort some stuff out, and then my characters take on a bit of a life of their own. So when an idea slams into my brain, I need to start writing it provided I can figure out the basics.

This idea came from a snippet of a scene my brother told me years and years ago. It’s always stayed with me. And last week, I remembered it out of the blue, replayed it in my mind…and then I saw what happened after.

So with his permission, I started writing it. And I got the first two chapters written with little problem. Okay, there was one problem. At about 4K I realized one of the character’s names needed to change and I had to stop for the night because I had no idea what his name was. And once I figured it out, I realized that the other guy’s name should change too. So I did that too. So now I’ve got my guys, their personalities, and the basic plot.

It wasn’t what I intended to work on next. I had this whole other idea and it was good and I was excited. But this? This just won’t leave me alone. So this is what I need to write right now.

And, at least for right now, I’m calling it Ghostwalker.

Flash Fic Friday

Flash Fic Friday

The air was cool but the sun was bright, beating down on my shoulders and keeping me warm as I stood on the back deck. Our backyard wasn’t big, but the lawn was lush and I had dug in a koi pond earlier in the summer. It was peaceful to stare out at our small expanse. I was in desperate need of some peace right now.

Behind me, I heard the door slide open but I didn’t turn around. I didn’t say anything either. Just waited and worked at keeping my calm.

“What’s wrong with you?” Quinn asked, his voice dark and concerned.

My only answer was a shrug.

“Dammit Ben,” he said with a frustrated sigh. “Is this about what I said last night?”

I shook my head even though it really was. I thought I knew him, inside and out. We’d been together for six years and had been married for the past two. But last night I had learned something new. Something so shocking that I couldn’t believe that this was the same man I’d given my heart to.

Tense silence stretched between us. He walked up beside me and leaned his slightly smaller frame against me. Automatically, I lifted my arm to pull him in close. He gave a relieved sigh and blinked his bright blue eyes at me.

“I love you,” he said quietly, but there was a fervor beneath his words that warmed my heart.

“I know,” I responded in the same tone. “I love you too. That hasn’t changed. I just can’t believe I didn’t know this about you. I feel…well, shocked and disappointed I think.”

Quinn’s scowl really was adorable, but the anger underneath it was really. “Oh for fuck’s sake! It’s just a TV show.”

I shook my head rapidly. “Star Trek is not just aTV show!”

His grin was rueful. “I love you,” he repeated. “And I love how much you love those shows. How you know the most random and arcane bits of trivia. Just because I don’t like it doesn’t mean everything between us has to end.”

He was teasing. And I knew I was taking my emotions too far. I wasn’t being exactly logical. But then again, it wasn’t often that I was. I grimaced anyway, playing along. “Yes, well, I’m not so sure about that.”

He laughed, understanding I wasn’t serious and cuddles in tighter. One if his hands crept under my t-shirt and he ran his fingers through the trail of hair on my belly.

“How about this?” He suggested softly. “How about you forgive me for my heinous indiscretion, I promise I’ll never say a bad word about the show, and we forget this whole thing and I take you to our bed and fuck you hard?”

I gave a very put upon sigh, and rolled my eyes for effect. “All right. Fiiiiine.”

He grinned wickedly, and my heart stuttered in my chest. He buried his fingers in my shirt and used his hold to drag behind me back into the house.


Too Much

You see, sometimes there’s just too much spinning in my wee brain.

The WIP is no longer in progress. It’s done. And it’s officially in the slush. So even though I’m finished and it’s off, I have a hard time letting my boys go. Need a little time to process that I’m no longer working on that story. It’s hard for me to let them go. It’s only been a few days.

And then there are edits on Spell Break. This is a different sort of thing, a different kind of project. One that’s more for me than anything else. This one I’m doing on my own. So there’s this whole added pressure. There’s a lot of decisions to be made there: what to keep, what to toss, what to rewrite. But look for that in the coming weeks.

With one in the slush, and one that’s going to start edits soon, one that I’m doing on my own, and a new one just starting to niggle at my brain, there’s just a bit too much going on in my head.

So I need to take a step back for a few and sort it all out. Get my ducks in a row. And then I can effectively tell the stories so that you can enjoy them. I hope.