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The end is near. I can feel it. Pretty soon, the first draft of Beholden will be complete. Then it’s off to the betas and more work to fix and edit. But the story getting finished? All the words on the page? That’ll happen soon. Maybe even in a matter of days.

I’m excited about it. But also not. Because I don’t want to let these guys go. Because I fear it being over and all the stuff that comes next. But it’s also thrilling to get a complete story on the page.

I have some decisions to make about the way it’s all going to end. And there’s still a good number of words to write. But I can feel the end approaching.

I’m in the home stretch. And it actually feels good.

And supportive friends are the worst kind of dangerous.

Because they shore you up when you’re feeling low, give you all sorts of positive feedback, and they encourage your wild tangent plot bunnies.  What’s worse?  They feed the plot bunnies.  They make them grow and flourish until you have no choice but to listen.  It’s horrible!

Okay, it’s not.  It’s actually freaking fantastic.  And I’m very lucky to have a couple of people in my life who are expert plot bunny feeders.  When the muse sets her minions loose, when those bunnies start hopping around like mad, these friends are the ones that feed ’em up till they are fat and happy, and encourage me to run with them.  And sometimes, I absolutely need help feeding those little guys.

Most recently, sharing an anecdote with one of the aforementioned friends resulted in a whole freaking plot.  In fact, he was the one that told me to get on it and write it, before the thought even crossed my mind.  But then, in no uncertain terms, told me to finish Beholden first.  Thankfully, this plot bunny seems to be fat and happy, content to wait it’s turn till the story can be told.

But it’s sort of lit a fire under me.  Get Beholden done so that I can tell the new boys’ story.  But in a good way, not in a “rush to move on kind of way.”  Of course, it means I need to manage my time a bit better but…well, thems the breaks.

Like I said, friends can be dangerous.  But a little danger is sometimes a good thing.

I get inspired over the smallest things. Plot bunnies start hopping around with the slightest provocation. This time it was a waiter.

Out to dinner with my sister, and he walks up to the table. He’s perfectly styled and completely adorable. An absolutely sweetheart, who camps it up just a little when he sees we approve. After he takes our order and heads back to the kitchen, my sister and I grin at each other.

“What a sweetie,” I say. “I just want to write him a boyfriend.”

Fortunately my sister gets how my brain works, and this made perfect sense to her. Now, we didn’t find out much about him–the restaurant was busy–but that didn’t stop us from imagining his type and what would happen when they meet. How the story would progress. His smile and his look inspired a character, but the rest is all speculation based on the total five minutes conversation we had with him.

But he’s in my head now. He’s an alive character. And eventually, I’m going to write him a boyfriend.

Every author has a particular style, or voice, and it can make or break an author’s popularity.  Someone might write killer plotlines and characters, but if their style isn’t appealing, it won’t matter.  I know there are several authors out there that, at first, I liked their story but didn’t like their style.  Fortunately, at least in one case, it really grew on me and now I gobble up anything she releases.

I used to worry about my “voice.”  I used to worry that people wouldn’t like it, or that it was too generic, or not generic enough…and any number of other things.  But I don’t anymore.

I write like I talk.  It’s who and how I am.  Okay, actually I use more made up words in real life than I do in my fiction, but for the most part, it’s how I speak.  I’m not ashamed of that, or worried anymore, because it’s true to who I am and how I think.  That’s really the piece of me that’s in everything I write.

What about you?  How does an author’s “voice” effect your enjoyment of the story?

I took a week off from all things word related because I was getting overwhelmed and bogged down.  I needed a bit of a break because there was too much spinning in my head.  Sometimes, that happens to me.  And although I usually try to muscle through and write anyway when things aren’t cooperating, I also know when I need to step away and get a new perspective.  That’s why there was nothing posted last week: I didn’t have anything to report.  And I wasn’t even going to attempt a flash fic in my state of mind.

But I’m back on track.

I’m still working on Beholden.  And the thing I discovered is that a plot point that I thought was crucial didn’t work and so it needed to get changed.  That’s why the word count hasn’t grown.  The last chapter that I had written needs to be rewritten.  I’m fairly certain that I’ve got it all worked out now, so that it will work better with the story as a whole.  So I’m working on those changes so that I can start moving forward again.  Because, damn do I love Julian.  And I want his story to get told.

But that’s also part of why I was bogged down.  I’m not going to lie; sometimes it’s really hard for me the change what I’ve written.  I get attached to my words, or my plots, and I don’t want to see them change.  But I want to write the best story that I can, I want to do the characters justice and have their story be told, so changes must happen.

It just sometimes takes me a bit to work up the courage and the gumption to make those changes.  But I have, and I am, and I believe it’s the best thing for the story.  Keep an eye on that meter.  It’s expected to start growing again soon.

I’ll admit it. I’m drawn to a certain kind of character.

Don’t get me wrong: I love a variety if characters. I love to see nuances and quirks and all the little bits that make each character unique. It’s fun to discover all the things that make a character who they are.

But that guy, the possessive, stoic, communicates in grunts and growls guy…yeah, I’m always happy to see him.

I’m not talking about scary possessive. I’m not talking about demanding and mean and suffocating. But the guy who is all “mine”. Who wants his love interest to be only his. Who is aware of his possessive streak and does what he can to keep it in check while also making it clear. That’s the guy I always want to see.

He’s the guy who pops up more often than not in my fiction.

What about you? What kind of character do you like to see!

Sometimes, all it takes is a few words. Or a picture. Or having a conversation. Or hearing a song. And that’s little kernel of whatever sparks a story idea.

Fridays flash fic? That was a prompt. “Write about the morning after she died.” That’s what happened in my head, though there was a bit of struggle to get there, and so I wrote it.

My brain and my muse are usually pretty free with the ideas. I’m lucky that way. But even though, at first, I wasn’t sure what to write, I couldn’t get the prompt out of my head.

Sometimes the smallest thing can spark a story. And sometimes all it takes is a prompt and an inability to stop thinking about it.

Any words are better than no words.  More words are better than fewer words.  Every author is obsessed with word count.  Whether it be the goal they have in mind, or a limit for a submission call, or a minimum to get it considered, the word count is always on an author’s mind.  It’s always on my mind.

But here’s the thing: sometimes, even 1,000 words can be a win.

As I sat staring at my WIP the other night, I started making tweaks. I couldn’t seem to move forward with the story, but I was reading back through the last two chapters I had written and I found places that needed a bit more explanation.  I found words that I didn’t like and deleted them to replace them with others. I changed the order of sentences and moved paragraphs around.  I futzed and finagled and refined.  I wasn’t making progress on the plotline, but I was crafting the story that I wanted to tell.

When all was said and done, the manuscript grew by about 1,000 words.  And as I sat back and looked at the word count, as I read through the chapters as they were now (still missing some typos, by the way) I had a profound sense of accomplishment.  And it occurred to me in that moment that the extra words weren’t the reason, but more that I had written things the way that I wanted them.

It’s not perfect yet.  Not that it’ll ever be perfect, of course.  But I know there are places where I want to edit and change and fix some more.  There is more tweaking to be done in those chapters.  And on the manuscript as a whole.  But those 1,000 words are a win, not because of the amount of words, but because of what they accomplished.

Because of what I accomplished.

And that is absolutely an amazing place to be.

I’m blaming the new laptop.  Well, blaming has a negative connotation doesn’t it?  But really, it’s the new laptop’s fault…except it’s a good thing.

Okay, see, here’s the thing.  I loved my laptop.  Loved.  It was big and beautiful and it allowed me to write anywhere–and by that I mean, in bed, or on the couch, or at my desk.  At any rate, I loved it for a lot of years and it was wonderful.  Only lately, it’s been a bit…persnickety.  And the power cord was a little bit dangerous as in that it sometimes gave off sparks.  And the programs were old but I couldn’t see updating them when I knew I’d have to get a new one.  So I just kept plugging along, praying that I hadn’t junked it up too badly and it wouldn’t die.  Until Saturday night.

Saturday night, I finally purchased a new laptop.  And it’s gorgeous and touch screen and the keyboard is silent when I type.  I didn’t even realize some of the advancements made in the technology world–I will admit honestly that I don’t keep up on these sorts of things.  And there was a sale on exactly what I needed.  So I got a lovely new laptop and it took me hours to set it up the way I wanted it and playing with all the different applications and getting Word downloaded (which was a freaking bitch, let me tell you) and installed.  I finally got to bed at about 1:30 Sunday morning.  And was up five hours later, sitting at said laptop with a cup of coffee nearby, typing away.

In a matter of three hours, I pounded out just about 4k words on Beholden.  And then, yesterday night, I wrote a bit more.  So really, the new laptop is to blame–but in the best possible way.

I don’t have to worry that things are going to die on me.  I don’t have to worry about the program I’m working with being outdated.  I can just sit and type, writing all the thoughts in my head, watching them appear on the screen, with the word count constantly growing and right there for me to see. I don’t have to wait for web pages to load (because it’s got a faster processor) when I need to look something up to put in my work.  Touch here, click there, boom and done.  Information right there, with hardly a break in the though process.

It’s amazing what good technology can do for the creative process.

What do you do when you think the short story you completed is actually meant to be something longer?

My characters talk to me. They tell me things. They tell me what they think and what they want to do. Sometimes, I have to wrangle them. But most of the time, it all works in everyone’s favor. Theirs and mine. I listen to them, they mostly behave, and in the end we get a story.

I thought I was done with the short. More revisions and tweaking needed, yes. But I thought the bulk of the story was done.

Except…

My boys are still talking. They are still telling me things that happen between them. Things that happen with other characters. And wouldn’t I be remiss if I didn’t explore that with them?

I’ve decided not to call the end on these guys. While I’m not completely sure it’s more than a short story, I’m not yet done with them either. I’m going to keep listening and see where it leads. Maybe these boys have a larger tale in them after all.