What kind of a writer am I?
I write my novels from the beginning to the end, in a straight line. Sure, I might have ideas of where the story is going and I travel in that direction as I write, but I don’t have it all mapped out. My stories ebb and flow and keep me excited to see what happens next.
When I began my writing journey, I had no preconceived notions about how writing should be done. I had never taken a writing class and had no ties at all to the writing and publishing world. I just sat down at my computer and started typing. I had the beginnings of a story in my head and I wrote it down. The next day I wrote some more and after several months of repeating this procedure, I had a draft manuscript.
The next phase was to figure out what to do with my draft novel. I was excited at this point. I had written a book! I began dipping my toe into the writing world and what I learned both scared and depressed me. I did it the wrong way—at least I thought so based on what I had read at the time. I was supposed to have writing software and an outline. No one sits down and writes their story from start to finish. Writers skip around, sometime writing the end before the middle. So frustrating!
It didn’t take me long to figure out that what works for others just didn’t work for me. I still write each story from start to finish, just like you read them. I do keep a notebook for each novel that has notes about different parts of the story so that I don’t forget something that I thought of out of sequence. I do now use Scrivener instead of Word, but I use it mostly for the compile feature. Since I’m self-published, Scrivener makes it easy to convert my work into the different file types that I need.
That said, it is still nice to hear that there are authors out there who write like me. I heard Nora Roberts speak at the RWA Convention last year and was thrilled to hear that she writes her novels from start to finish using WordPerfect. I’m not comparing myself to Nora, but that reaffirms that you can be successful doing things the wrong way.
Everyone has something to lose.
Camden Piotrowski is justifiably upset to find her boyfriend in the arms of another woman. But it’s not the end of her world and definitely not something that a bubble bath, good wine, and cookie dough won’t help. Her pity party is interrupted when handsome Seth Vendetti bursts into her bathroom. She soon discovers that her world and those in it are not as they seem. Can she trust Seth’s version of the truth and make him realize that even he has something to lose?
His hands form fists that rest on his hips. “Are you threatening an FBI agent?”
I hadn’t really thought of it like that, but I’m not backing down. I put my hands on my hips as well and stand on my tippy toes so that my face is close to his. I could use those three-inch heels right about now, but I hold my ground. His body is tight. I see his pulse beating in his neck.
“Call it what you want. Just get out of my house.”
His hands move behind my neck. He pulls me to him and before I even know what’s happening, he’s kissing me and even more surprising, I’m kissing him, too. His strong fingers move up and down my back as his lips work their magic on mine. I thought I’d been kissed before, but never have I been kissed like this. I still don’t see fireworks, instead I am the firework. Heat explodes from my lips down my throat and to the rest of my body. This isn’t the warmth of fairy tales where the prince and princess kiss their happily-ever-after. This is the battle of the dragon and I don’t know what because my brain is no longer working.
His stubble scratches my chin and the sensation kindles the fire even more. My stomach lurches and I feel weightless, light as a feather now, falling from high in the sky. His hands move to my hips and he pulls me to him tightly. He kisses my chin and then my neck and down to the opening of my robe.
It’s like I wake up from some out-of-body experience to find myself full of lust and clinging to a complete stranger. His hand slips into my robe. I startle and jump back, hugging myself with one hand, the other covering my mouth as my eyes go wide in complete disbelief.
Tamra Lassiter lives in Northern Virginia with her supportive husband, two lovely daughters, elegant Great Dane and not-so-elegant, but very sweet, English Bulldog. She enjoys spending time with her family, reading and of course, writing.
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