NaNoWriMo Ready

• Story Idea...check
• Character Summaries...check
• Outline...check
• Updated Novel Info...check
• Added Writing Buddies...check
• Committed...check, check

I did NaNoWriMo last year. I won. More importantly I discovered that I could push my daily/weekly writing goals more than I was doing pre-November 2010. It also reminded me the pure joy of writing without editing thoughts or concerns.

Just let the story pour out onto paper. Don't worry about spelling mistakes. Don't worry about awkward sentences. Don't worry about anything other than getting the image in your mind into some kind of written form.

The worries of spelling, awkwardness, and pacing can come later. I mean you have the months of post draft to revise and rewrite and perfect the story.

Any of you participating this year? You can look me up here: http://www.nanowrimo.org/en/participants/a-r-norris

Captain Bonney's Out

Revelations of Tomorrow, The first book in The Telomere Trilogy is now available.

Blurb

The crew of Daring Star salvages a load capsule and finds the beaten body of Jetta McCree. Turns out Jetta's discovered her employer has developed a biochemical droplet and is contracted with terrorists to manufacture on a large scale. Captain Noah Bonney fights off corporate security forces, her ex-husband's pirate fleets, and carnivorous beasts to keep the young woman safe and transport her to the safety of the Imperial Home Port.

But the adventure brings to surface demons Noah's been suppressing and secrets from her people's history she's tried to forget. Now, she must face them if she's to reconcile with her daughter and keep the love of her life from leaving. With 450 years under her belt and nothing but eternity ahead of her, she's built a thick shell… one she's not sure she can break.

Excerpt
"I haven't been that innocent for many rotations." Noah placed her holster and weapon next to the hat, closed the drawer, and unbuttoned her jacket.

"Yeah, but being 450 years old, that's a long time ago. How can you possibly remember?" Lieutenant Matthew Amherst smiled at her through the mirror from across the room where he set the last piece of silverware on the small table.

Noah scowled at him with a warning finger point. He only winked at her, slipped his hands in his trousers and strolled over. Part of her wondered how she remembered so far back. Sometimes it was easy, and other days the distance of it smacked her in the face. Matthew stepped up, wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder. He peered at her through the mirror, gave her a lopsided grin, and wiggled his eyebrows. She laughed again and reached back to rest her hand on his cheek. The worrisome thought slipped from her mind.

She grinned at him. "You younglings don't realize Telomere rotations are nothing in my circle."

"That is true." He pinched her sides and released her. "That is true," Matthew said again as he guided her to the table.

They sat to eat. Noah and Matthew usually ate in the mess hall with the crew, and usually separate. Occasionally, though, Matthew called a private evening. She couldn't resist, and in this instance she had a feeling it would be the last in a while.

"Have you given any thought to our arrival strategy?" Matthew asked in between bites.

"Yes. It's too late to feign ignorance, or hide her. I'm not sure how we can avoid altercation with space port security."

Matthew scowled over his food and mumbled, "Damn, pompous security. Love pestering Imperial vessels."

Noah suppressed a chuckle. As lead officer for the hangar and cargo areas, he had to deal with port security more than most. Catching her humorous look, he flashed a grin and shrugged.

"You're not going to give her over, are you?" he asked once his mouth was clear.

"Hell, no. That girl is too young to know what she's gotten into, but I'm not. We're Merchants." She stabbed at her food a little too vigorously, the fork clanked against the plate, and she glanced up.

Matthew stared at her, his eyes intense and smoldering. He reached over and ran a thumb down her cheek, causing her heart to race and her skin tingled. Sea green eyes twinkled against the tan of his skin. He'd showered so his black hair lay disheveled and curly. Her hand itched to run through the wet locks.

"You're such a wonderful person, Noah," he whispered. "Be with me, always."

Sadness pressed down on her and pushed away the lust. Noah searched for her voice, trying to find the right words. "I am, Matthew." But always is such a subjective term.

Though his eyes dimmed, he tapped her nose good-naturedly. It hurt Noah more knowing she was the cause of it. There was nothing to do about it, though. "Your eyes give you away, love. You're worried. The differences between us, I don't care about them."

Noah pursed her lips. Sharp pain of emotions ached in her heart, intensifying. She pressed her hand to her chest and turned to stare out the window for a moment. How could he ever understand? Only in his thirties, he had barely scratched the surface of life. Guilt pulled at her conscience. She shouldn't be with him, if she were honest with herself. But the happiness and affection she felt toward him took control when she saw him. It wouldn't end well, that she knew for certain.

"You don't understand. I can promise you your always. You can't promise me my always. I just can't do that to myself, or to you, Matthew."


Purchase Links
Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Sony, Kobo, Desert Breeze Website All Romance Books

Last Stretch

Captain Noah Bonney and her friends are off to the beta readers. Somehow I managed to navigate my way through solar systems, explosions, battles, and the personal demons of my characters to get the final draft done.

So close.

Almost there.

Last stretch.

This is where the muscles start to cramp and the sharp pain hits the abdomen. Breathing loses stride with the pace maintained over the last twenty miles.

I don't look pretty when exhausted and ready to collapse people... Do. Not. Look. Pretty.

Don't get me wrong. I run. I run when someone is chasing me. Okay, I won't run if someone is chasing me unless they have a weapon. A really sharp or metal weapon.

Anything other than that and I am the fight of the Flight or Fight equation. What's the use. I wouldn't get far and would just tire myself out and make a perfect victim.

Okay... not sure exactly where this post derailed, but it did. I'm sure there's meaning and purpose somewhere... really deep in between the lines, or dots.

I guess everyone gets derailed sometimes, and that's okay. Just ride it out and usually you'll find yourself back in the direction you were going. Or, you've put yourself in the direction you were supposed to go in the first place.

The Lesson of Humility

Hubby and I were watching an older episode of Anthony Bourdain's No Reservations the other night. If you haven't watched this show, it's a great series on the Travel Channel... but, I digress (surprise, surprise).

The episode found Anthony cruising around and exploring the true Boston, beyond the fancy hotels and sites. (One of the reasons I like Anthony is because he goes beyond the travel brochure.)

Any-who.

Anthony stopped by a boxing club and discussed boxing and its importance to South Boston. Afterwards, him and the owner of the boxing club went to a famous local deli for subs. As they talked, the owner brought up a great point.

He said boxing wasn't about learning how to beat the opponent. At least not all about beating the opponent. No, he said the bigger purpose is to learn how to "take it in the chin" and respect the opponent, and your own limitations.

It is not only about victory, but also humility.

Wow. Isn't that a lot like the publishing world?

Writing is like your boxing moves. Publishing the ring. You learn your basic steps on the sidelines, around the outer edges. With safe equipment such as the punching bag and jump ropes. Then, you start testing your capabilities in the ring with safe competitors and slow movements.

At some point, you have to sign up for your first real fight. It's bloody, and for the most part you're going to walk away rejected and lost. Stumbling out of the ring, you sit dazed, wondering what just happened.

It's awkward, embarrassing, and eye opening. But it's an important lesson. It teaches you that you are not as great as you'd hoped. It teaches you that the world is not just waiting for your entrance. And it teaches you that there are other, more capable and talented people out there.

It teaches you that success has to be earned. From hard work, practice, and getting up and jumping back in.

Directions from the Constantly Lost

I'm at the final point of my manuscript for Telomere Book 2 and the whole thing seems absurd to me.

Why?

Because this is the point where I follow my galaxy map and reference where the vessels are and where they are heading.

Again, why is this absurd to me?

Because I can't even drive from Napa to San Francisco without getting lost. Hell, I can't even drive around Napa without getting mixed up. And here I am, with my 2 angle view map of the galaxy making point references about vessel locations and figuring out the next stops in their journey. Solar System to Solar System and the space leaps in between.

Can AR read a map? Nooooo. Remember the episode of Friends where they're in London for Ross's wedding? Joey places the map on the ground and positions himself where he's at to figure out where he needs to go?...Yeah, that's me. Except I rarely know where I am to figure out where I need to go.

But, Captain Noah Bonney and Captain Makai Yourimoc know where they're at and where they heading, how long it'll take to get there, and what dangers they'll most likely run into on the way.

So, I'm fighting through the stinkin' 2 angle view map and plotting points, cross plotting, cursing a bit, and figuring it out.

...Man, what we writers do for our characters...