Fabulous Friday Reads: D.C. Stone
Today’s Fabulous Friday Read goes to D.C. Stone, whose new series Justice Demons kicks off with her smoking new book Feral Craving. If you like hot military men and even hotter romance, you’ve got to pick up this book toot sweet. And now, here’s D.C.!
Whew! Thanks for having me on today. I’m here to talk about the exciting new release for my first series, Justice Demons. Feral Craving is book one of the series, and involves Bari and Mackenzie’s quest to find love.
Feral Craving is book one of a series I deemed The Justice Demons. Justice Demons, you ask? Yes, it is a paranormal romance, where a group of Special Forces members find out they aren’t exactly human, and have been created by a Goddess to help ward of the battle of good and evil. Their sole job is to protect the world, keep things in balance, much as they did in the military.
Within Feral Craving, the first member finds his mate, someone he ran from nine years ago, thinking he was not good enough to have her. He wanted her life to be happy, and without doubts, something that he is not in shortage of.
Needless to say, while he’s been gone, she hasn’t had said happiness, and things have changed…
Bari has always felt a presence lurking deep inside of him, waiting to get out. After being injured in Iraq, where he was in-service with the Special Forces Team, he suddenly finds himself thrust back into his hometown, forced to face his past, and finds that what’s lurking inside of him is real, waiting, and running out of patience fast. What happens as the evil of his past merges with his wants of the future? What happens when the man and beast inside crave a female from his past? What happens when Bari learns that he is anything but human?
Story Excerpt
Without warning, the room started to spin; a sudden, wicked wave of dizziness assaulted him. Bari lifted a hand, reaching for the wall, and grunted through the nausea. He wobbled on his legs, tried to reboot his mind. Christ, not this shit again! He needed his head. He had to get away, but in a desert half the size of the US of A, he didn’t have any fucking options.
A sound—a whisper to his left. He snapped his head up. Nothing. Just air and trash. The whisper moved to his right, suddenly magnified. Like nails on a chalkboard. Bari whirled, lifting the pistol at his leg, his M-4 rifle now forgotten at his feet. The room spun without warning. He held the pistol in front of him, wavering, pointing at who the fuck knew and nothing all at once. He rocked back on his heels and blinked, and his vision immediately focused. His stomach still rebelled against the spinning sensation, and he breathed through the bile rising up his throat.
Bari narrowed his eyes as a shape started to form before him. Fuzzy, gray and brown colors mixed and swirled. He blinked, trying to make his eyes and mind decipher what took shape. It was huge, as big as he, but what the fuck was it? Lines of blue intermingled beneath its brown and gray spots and, as it grew clearer, he saw what he pointed his muzzle at. Adrenaline rushed him. It couldn’t be. But the image was unmistakable. He stared at the figure that stared back at him. Then, it vanished—the shadow of what he swore was himself, disappeared.
“What the hell?”
A whisper caught his attention to his left. Suddenly, he remembered where he was, then turned and lifted his SIG Sauer handgun. Tony’s eyes widened, and his hands lifted in the air, one leather-covered hand around his rifle.
“Fucking shit, Bari. It’s me.” Pushing Bari’s weapon away from him, Tony narrowed his own stormy gaze at Bari. “You tight, man?”
Bari clamped his jaw shut, not really sure how to answer.
Tony’s lips thinned, then he glanced over his shoulder and tossed his head back. “Let’s get moving.”
Tony nodded down another dark hallway. Bari shook his head, clearing it of the fear bubbling inside of him. His stomach gurgled and he swallowed, forcing the still rising bile down. Something was off, something he couldn’t quite grasp. He felt as if he had walked into a dream—ventured into a dark tunnel. But he knew better, knew that the sun shined high and bright—hot as hell, outside.
The house was filthy, filled with dilapidated couches and mounds of trash and bottles. It couldn’t have been occupied for long. Hell, the place didn’t even look livable for New York City rats. His task set on what lay ahead. Bari worked slow but efficiently cleared each room he passed. In his ear, he heard Mike and Tyler mark their rooms, bringing the four of them together once again as the halls connected. One room remained, its door closed.
They stacked up, lined up as they had outside, their weapons trained on the door, then busted inside. Bari scanned the room as he led the way, expectant and ready.
They were met with nothing. Not one damn person. Whoever had run into this house seemed to have just disappeared into thin air. Cursing, Bari dropped his guard, lowered his weapon, and paced the room. His mind scrambled over the reports they’d studied, trying to recall every detail and feeling as if he had forgotten something. All eyes of the team were on him, waiting for a decision.
With a frustrated growl, he ripped open the front of his vest and breathed deep, letting air fill his tight chest. A bunker was supposed to be here, somewhere, but they had seen no evidence of it. It was like they’d been set up to clear an empty house. None of it made a damn lick of sense.
“Shit, we should have found something here. Where in the fuck did they go?” His team answered with silence. Shaking his head, he pushed his helmet off and scrubbed a hand through his hair.
Mike pulled a piece of gum from his pocket, unwrapped and shoved it in his mouth. The sound of his chewing snapped through the room. “Yeah, Bari, this looks like a dead-end. Doesn’t make any sense.”
Grabbing his pack of smokes from his own pocket, Bari popped a cigarette in his mouth and lit it.
Needing to get some answers, Bari stepped around Tony. Adrenaline still rushed inside of him, his skin itchy with unused energy. He moved back down the hall and into the living area.
He glanced up. And time froze.
He would later tell himself he could have been faster, or ducked down. But Mike, a father with a six-year-old daughter back home, had followed behind him. So he didn’t move. Instead, he froze as the gunman stepped out from behind a door. Mike must have missed it. Fear stole up the back of his neck, the sensation reminiscent of a winding serpent. The gunman lifted his rifle. Low shouts rang out around Bari. Seconds ticked by like molasses dripping. Bari closed his eyes and braced for the pain, understanding he might not make it out alive. A shot rang out, the sound echoing through the walls. Pain exploded in his chest, his body. The cigarette he lit earlier dropped from his mouth, fell to the floor. He raised his eyes, meeting the gunman’s stare from across the room. Death sat in the man’s blank gaze, reflecting darkness, emptiness.
Bari felt consciousness slipping away. Funny how some people claim your life flashes before your eyes when you face death. Because the only thing that flashed before Bari’s was the life he never had and the woman who would’ve been in it: Mackenzie Walters.
Where To Buy
Amazon
Evernight
All Romance E-books
Barnes and Noble: Coming soon, follow along at D.C’s website to find out soon
About D.C. Stone
D.C. Stone is an e-book author and full-time fraud investigator when she isn’t diving into the world of Fiction.
She lives in the north-east with her incredibly supporting husband, two kids, and the all American black Labrador puppy. She’ll deny any association with the grumpy cat that also resides in the house, but he is there, never-the-less.
After serving eight years of service with the United States Air Force, she went on to transition into the world of Financial Crimes and became a lead investigator for many years.
Reading has always been a passion of hers, getting lost in a good, steamy romance one of her favorite past times. That passion took a back seat as soon as she discovered her own love for writing and recreating her own stories and characters. Her writing concentrates on Romance with specifics in Paranormal, Suspense and Erotica.
Now, when she isn’t trying to solve a new puzzle in the world of fraud, she is engulfed with coffee, her laptop, and all those crazy characters in her head. Trying to keep up with that crazy bunch is a skill many would yearn to have.
She is a member of the Romance Writers of America, New Jersey Romance Writers, and the Liberty State Fiction Writers. Come stop by on Facebook, Twitter or her website and say hello!
Where to find D.C. Stone
Break out the dancing boys!
Just signed a contract and submitted the cover art/blurb sheet for my novelette “A Boon by Moonlight,” which will appear in Evernight Publishing’s Romance on the Go line sometime this year. Huzzah!
And to whet your appetite, here’s the blurb I sent in with my cover art sheet:
Ex-Marine Zach Mayhew is willing to do anything for his dying grandmother. When she asks him to find a fairy ring in the forest and beg that she be allowed to spend her last days in Faerie, he obliges her (even though he thinks it’s nuts). But when a gorgeous Sidhe noble steps out of the ring and asks for a night in his bed in return, Zach learns that history has a way of repeating itself, and a boon asked by moonlight can have unexpected consequences for his heart.
Nicola’s Sunday Shoutout: Marie Medina
Today’s Sunday Shoutout goes to Marie Media, whose delicious new Romance On the Go novella Your Money or Your Life is now available from Evernight Publishing and other purveyors of fine erotic romance. Your Money or Your Life is the second part of Marie’s Tales of the Highwaymen series, and follows the adventures of Gerard, a highwayman who finds a sexy but bewildered man wandering in the forest and realizes that yet another person has fallen through the enchanted portrait from our world to theirs. Enjoy!
Thank you for having me today! I am very happy to share a little excerpt from Your Money or Your Life, book 2 in my Tales of the Highwaymen series. This trilogy was not meant to be one at all, but I loved two of the secondary characters so much that I simply had to give them both their own story and happy ending. All Mine, book 3, will be out January 30, but for now enjoy this steamy excerpt from book 2.
When Jacob fell moving a portrait in the museum where he worked, he was worried about damaging it. He never imagined he would fall into it and wake up in another dimension. Though his day does start to improve when a sexy masked man rides to his rescue…
Gerard thought his friends Adam and Eloise would be the enchanted portrait’s only victims, but when he finds a gorgeous but bewildered young man wandering in the woods, he realizes how wrong he was. Now he has to enlist the help of a man he can’t stand to put a stop to the magic, even though he’d much rather be spending that time in the arms of the sexy man now sharing his home.
Story Excerpt
Gerard couldn’t understand the world his new friends had come from. So many things sounded wonderful, but at times the cruelty of their world shocked him. “I’m sorry. You were afraid of being shunned or persecuted?”
Jacob nodded. “I never told anyone I was gay until I met a guy I wanted to date, usually. If I knew he was gay and knew he liked me, I’d let my guard down. I wasn’t ashamed, but I didn’t want to be judged. My town was very small, and no one who came out stayed long because the reaction in town was so bad. I moved when I went to college, and I was starting to feel confident about coming out.” He shrugged and looked around the room. “And now I’m here.”
“You’ve no need to fear anything here, I can assure you.” Gerard smiled. “And anyone who wanted to harm you in any way would have to get through me first.”
“So, you’re going to be my permanent champion? My dashing outlaw?”
Gerard guffawed. “Outlaw? I’m not quite that.”
“Aren’t you a highwayman? I asked about your mask, and Adam and Eloise said you were.”
“But not really an outlaw.” Gerard considered his statement. “All right, I do steal from people, but it’s not what you’re thinking.” He searched his brain for the name that Adam had mentioned several times. “I’m like Robin Hood.”
Jacob smiled. “Are you, now?”
Nodding, he said, “Yes. There’s a large gap between the very rich and the very poor here. There’s the king and the nobles, and then we have everyone else. There is very little social climbing, as Adam called it. I try to help where I can. We never take jewels or personal items, just money. And only from those who will not miss it. A few actually cooperate because they know the truth.”
“How many are in your gang?”
“Actually, without Adam, it’s just me for now. My men tend to retire when they get married. They need more stability in their lives and their incomes.” Holding up his hand, he gestured around. “The family that lived here abandoned it, claimed it was haunted. Hardly anyone will even come near it, so I live here comfortably enough. No one objects. I do odd jobs here and there, but most of the families I’ve helped see that I am well taken care of.” He grinned. “Got lots of other men’s wives cooking for me.”
“Sounds like an almost charmed existence, in its way.” Jacob laughed. “So, you’re looking for new recruits?”
“Are you volunteering?”
After a long pause, Jacob nodded. “Sure. What else am I going to do? It’ll at least be a way to repay you, earn my keep.”
Gerard raised one eyebrow. “All right, though I had several inventive ideas for how you could earn your keep.”
Jacob looked down for a moment, and then he slowly glanced back up. “Maybe you can enlighten me.”
Gerard tried his best to rein himself in and hoped Jacob would not notice his half-mast erection. “One night when you’re stronger.”
Jacob smiled as his eyes lowered again briefly. “But you have to keep me awake tonight, remember?”
The look in Jacob’s eyes had Gerard hard and ready in an instant. “I wouldn’t be a gentleman if I took advantage of my guest in such a way.”
Jacob moved closer, running his hand up Gerard’s thigh but stopping before actually touching his groin. “True, I’m probably not up to … certain activities … but it seems you’re ready for anything.”
“It’s been a while.”
“For me, too.” Jacob cupped him, but he wasn’t too aggressive. He ran the palm of his hand over Gerard’s shaft, locking eyes with him.
“We just met today. I don’t want you to regret this.” Gerard didn’t want to regret it either, didn’t want to care for a man and not be able to keep him again. But Jacob’s touch was like heaven.
Jacob examined Gerard’s leather pants, and then he began to unlace them. “These pants have been driving me mad ever since I first saw you. Even when I was confused as hell, they were distracting me.” He freed Gerard’s cock and stroked it. “I’m tired of hiding and being timid, denying my desires. I do not want a gentleman—I want the fantasy that rode up and saved me today.”
Gerard laughed low in his throat, arching up a bit as Jacob worked his cock. He wanted those lips wrapped around him, wanted to fuck that tempting mouth. “I don’t think I’ve ever been called a fantasy before.”
Jacob stroked harder, still looking into Gerard’s eyes. “Trust me. Compared to every other man I’ve been with, you’re exotic and exciting, a very wet dream come true.”
Gerard cupped Jacob’s face and ran his thumb over his lips. “Suck me off. I’ve been thinking about it ever since I pulled you up onto my horse.”
Jacob smiled and licked the head of Gerard’s cock. “I felt your cock against my ass. I think that’s what kept me from going crazy, grounded me to reality.”
Gerard started to reply, but then he groaned as Jacob’s mouth engulfed him. Their banter had him aching, and Jacob’s mouth was hot and sweet. Gerard couldn’t believe this amazing man had called himself timid. He knew how to suck cock, bringing Gerard right to the edge but then easing off in a sweetly tortuous way.
Jacob’s tongue teased up and down the vein on the underside of Gerard’s cock. He ran his fingers through Jacob’s chestnut brown hair, loving the way the man moaned as he sucked. Jacob seemed to be enjoying himself very much. After Alexander’s betrayal, Gerard had believed he would never be able to inspire this kind of desire, but Jacob was proving him wrong.
Where To Buy
Evernight Publishing
Amazon
All Romance eBooks
Bookstrand
Find me on Goodreads!
Book 1: Stand and Deliver: Available now!
Book 2: Your Money or Your Life: Available now!
Book 3: All Mine: Coming January 30
About Marie Medina
Marie Medina was born in northern New England and raised by her pale, mysterious godfather in a dark gothic mansion on the edge of her small, sleepy town. He didn’t turn out to be a Bronte hero or a vampire, as she thought when she was very young, but he is her best friend and the standard by which she measures all her heroes (and suitors). She has been writing since the age of eleven and has no intention of stopping anytime soon.
Where to find Marie Medina
The Snark, It Hounds Me
So I’m working on an M/M submission with a metric assload of snark, sass, and banter (working title “A Boon by Moonlight”) for Evernight’s Romance on the Go line, and I reach the hot steamy sex scene where my hero has just finished doing wonderful things to his partner’s ass and pulls out lube for the main event.
His partner, a very impatient Sidhe noble, basically says “Why did you stop and what the hell is that?”
Rather incredulously, Hero inquires whether Sidhe Noble ever uses lube when he has sex.
Sidhe Noble huffs and says he’s not a barbarian, he always uses saliva or sometimes oil when it’s handy.
Hero, utterly appalled, mutters, “Yeah, welcome to the 21st Century.”
No, I cannot get away from attitude, even in a sex scene. But that’s all right, because it is done and clocks in at 11,115 words. I’m gonna let it sit for a day, then edit and submit on Friday. Weelah!
What to do when you get a rejection
Today I got a very nice rejection email from the agent I queried about Storm Season. It wasn’t deemed a good fit for their agency, but they suggested I continue to look for other agents as opinions vary widely.
Now, rejections are normal in pretty much every writer’s life, and Lord knows I’ve collected enough in my career. Am I disappointed that the agent wasn’t interested in Storm Season? Yes, of course I am. Nobody likes to be rejected, and it would have been nifty to be represented by this agency.
Am I surprised that they passed on it? Honestly, not all that much. Storm Season is, after all, a MMM menage erotic romance, and while those are very popular with e-publishers, I suspect they’re a harder (hur hur) sell when it comes to print publishers. An agent is all about salable books, so their decision to pass is understandable. Also, it’s not like they said, “Whatever made you think you were literate in the first place, you babbling hag? Never darken our phosphors again.” So if I have something that might be a better fit for them (and I don’t have an agent by then), I can always try submitting new stuff in the future.
Am I giving up writing entirely, deleting the file and eating an entire half gallon of Butter Pecan to drown my sorrows in a diabetic coma? No. Rejections are part of the game — they happen, you pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and submit your work to the next person on your list. Now, I’m not going to do that exactly with Storm Season — yes, I could continue to ping agents, but I suspect I’ll get the same response from them simply because of the subject matter. As I already have an e-publisher in mind, I’ll be submitting it there as soon as I finish the polish and write a one-page synopsis.
Ultimately, I have faith in my writing. I know Storm Season will sell — my hard-nosed nitpicky beta readers have loved it — and I know it’ll find an audience. I just have to be patient and keep on looking for the right market. And I will sell other books as well, because I won’t stop until I do. It’s simple as that.
Although I have to admit, butter pecan does sound pretty good right about now…
Nicola’s Sunday Shoutout: Raven McAllan
Today’s Sunday Shoutout goes to Raven McAllan, whose new erotic romance novel A Shimmer of Silk is now available from Evernight Publishing. The second book in The House On Silk Street series, A Shimmer of Silk is a delightfully wicked erotic Regency romance with a hint of mystery, and follows the story of Deborah, one of the house’s performers, and Oliver, Lord Craster, a very dominant noble who senses his other half in Deborah. But can she submit to the one man who may be able to unlock her soul?
And now, here’s Raven!
Thanks so much for inviting me here.
The thrill of a new release hits me every time. Tempered with a very large dose of self-doubt, and nail-biting scariness. What if nobody buys it? What if those that do hate it? And maybe, just maybe, people will buy it and will like it.
After all, Evernight know what they want, and they wanted this. So give over already. Yeah, easy to write, a lot harder to do, and it still doesn’t stop me stalking the sites that host it to see if it’s sold.
I’ve always loved writing; and now, writing and being published and people reading what started off in my murky mind gives me a warm fuzzy feeling inside.
A Shimmer Of Silk, which was recently released by Evernight Publishing, is the second book in the series The House On Silk Street. It follows Silver Silk Ties, and can be read as a stand alone. The series are Erotic Regency, with a dash of mystery. The answer to the mystery will become clear in the final book, but not knowing doesn’t spoil how you read the other books.
The house on Silk Street, is not your ordinary mansion. Things go on within its doors that most members of the Ton either don’t know, or don’t wish to know about. Those ladies and gentlemen who do go there don’t broadcast the fact. Their activities are very unusual, and very personal.
As far as anyone knows, Deborah is in the house on Silk Street as an entertainer. During her performance, she catches the eye Of Oliver.
Deborah may not know the full truth of her childhood, but she knows she needs to find her soul.
During one of her performances at Silk Street, she attracts the attention of Oliver, Lord Craster. Known for his extreme tastes, he sensed a kindred soul in Deborah.
Persuading her that their needs mesh proves a challenge, even to a man of his experience. Will Oliver be the man she needs to unlock her secrets? Or will his dominance scare her too much to even try?
Are the nightmares simply too strong?
Story Excerpt
It was one thing to agree to accompany Oliver; it was another to do it with insouciance and style. Deborah hung onto her composure by a thread. One word out of place, one unaccustomed challenge, and she feared she would fall to pieces. But deep inside her was an excitement she had never felt before. The recognition of hope and arousal that she sensed would over come any negative feelings, or doubts, within her.
He took her hand and tucked it into his as they walked along a brightly lit, deserted corridor. There were no doors to break the flow of the walls, just lamps at regular intervals. “We will see no one unless you wish it. My apartments are mine alone. Nevertheless, Felton knows you are with me, and I have given him my word, as I did to Luc, we will do nothing without your acceptance. I promise you this also. Our life will be ours. Not for us anything others want, it will be as we desire.” He stopped suddenly and pulled her into his arms.
His cock pressed against her quim, and Deborah’s breath hitched. Her mouth was dry, as she felt her juices run. It seemed preferable not to look down, for she was sure the pantaloons she wore would show the marks of her excitement. As Oliver’s lips touched hers, she opened her mouth and let his tongue in, to mimic the act she knew they would enjoy later. As he thrust, she couldn’t help but grind her cunt against his prick.
Oliver lifted his head. “Soon, love. You taste of nectar.”
He tastes of hope.
Within minutes she was standing in a small entrance hall. Deborah looked round her, hoping to get an idea of the preferences of the man. It was bland, almost conventional with cream walls and a pale green a chaise set next to a drum table against one wall. The only splash of color was a bright gold and red cushion thrown carelessly to one end of the chaise. Oliver had evidently picked up on her puzzlement.
“This is for servants to deliver food, etcetera. For visitors to wait in and for us to pass through as swift as we can. Are you ready? If not, now is the time to say so. You can pull the rope and a servant will escort you to your room.”
Her stomach was churning, but with excitement, not fear. The shivers she felt were those of anticipation, not worry.
“I thought this was now my room? To share with you? Are you reneging, my lord?” His face was a picture of astonishment. Deborah couldn’t help herself; she burst into laughter. “Oh, my lord, you should see your expression. It is a sight to behold. Truly, if I ever feel threatened, uncomfortable, or unable to sustain aught we do, I will say so. My safe word is sauf.”
“Your safe word?” he said slowly. “What do you know of safe words?”
“Nothing except if we are to discover my limits, we need to decide on one. A word which if I utter, you will desist immediately in whatever activity we are partaking. That is not to say you will not return to the, er subject at a later date, once we have discussed any reluctance or questions I may have. Ah, Oliver, do you think I did not know the reasons why this house exists? Even if our, that is mine and Luc’s enquiries, had not told us enough, Lord Dalrey was insistent we knew where and the likes of whom we were entertaining.”
“And you are happy with this?”
She giggled. “Until I taste what you have in mind for us, how do I know?” Deborah thought it was a reasonable question in the circumstances. “In theory, I know some activities will be good, some will push me, and strain my thoughts and mind. Indeed, some things may be beyond my endurance and I cry stop. But which fits where has yet to be determined. Nevertheless, I wish to see what you deem suitable for us. I need, I must, discover myself.” She dare not say more. Indeed, she would have been hard pressed to do so. Deborah had no idea how to describe the turmoil her emotions were in.
He gave her a sharp glance but didn’t comment.
“Sauf it is.” Oliver pushed open a door. “After you.”
An imp of mischief made her curtsey and she saw the glint in his eyes.
“One day, your sauce will be your undoing, my love, I will remember.”
She was sure he would. In a strange way she looked forward to it.
Where To Buy
About Raven McAllan
Raven lives in Scotland, along with her husband and their two cats — their children having flown the nest — surrounded by beautiful scenery, which inspires a lot of the settings in her books.
She is used to sharing her life with the occasional deer, red squirrel, and lost tourist, to say nothing of the scourge of Scotland — the midge.
Her very understanding and long-suffering DH, is used to his questions unanswered, the dust bunnies greeting him as he walks through the door, and rescuing burned offerings from the Aga. (And passing her a glass of wine as she types furiously.)
Where to find Raven McAllan
Website
Blog
Raven’s Facebook
Author Page on Facebook
Twitter
This is a writer’s brain while trying to get to sleep
Since my brain obviously thinks that I’m spending far too much time on luxurious fripperies such as sleep, it’s come up with another novel for me to write.
So now, in addition to the 6-book ecofantasy erotic romance series, the MMF kinky erotic romance set in 1923 Berlin, and the MMF historical erotic romance set in Roman-occupied Britain (and that’s just the erotic romances) I also have a plot for an MF historical erotic romance novel loosely based (very, VERY loosely, mind you) on the poem “The Highwayman.”
“Big Bess” Warner, the tall, gangly tomboy of an innkeeper’s daughter, reluctantly agrees to marry a rich merchant’s son in exchange for the freehold deed to the land around her father’s inn, and believes her life is doomed to be corseted, dull, and covered in ridiculous frills. But when her fiance’s carriage is stopped by Black Jack Carrington, England’s shortest highwayman, Bess finds herself thrown headlong into adventure, danger, and a most unexpected romance.
Thanks, brain.
90,022 words
And that is, as we say in the biz, a wrap for Storm Season. Query letter goes off tomorrow, and fingers stay crossed until I hear back.
Chapter 17 is now edited like a boss
86K and a bit, and the big-ass hurricane battle sequence between Ian and the big baddie is done, dusted, and damned good. Also, I referenced the First Law of Thermodynamics in an erotic romance. I RULE.
And now that I’ve done 35 minutes on the Treadmill of Musing, I’m going back in for the final sex scene. Cover me, people.
Basta. Genug. Enough.
So I’m working on Chapter 17 of Storm Season today and inserted a # to indicate a scene break. I centered the hash mark, as I do, and moved the tab over so that the line wasn’t indented. The entire frigging document then centered and lost its tabs. Swearing under my breath, I had to hit Undo to get the text back to normal. Oddly enough, the hash mark remained centered.
This has been an ongoing problem with Word ever since I passed 65,000 words on this book. Word, which is enough of a resource hog as it is, tends to start horking on large documents — it messes around with the header and footer spacing, tabs, alignment, and formatting. I did have the doc set up so that I could use a format for the hash marks as well as italicized text and chapter headings, but after the third time I lost all that and the doc reverted to its standard format, I gave up.
Now, I know a lot of writers get around this problem by splitting their chapters into separate documents and linking all those together with a master document. That’s fine and dandy, but it’s also has its own pain in the ass elements and frankly, I’ve had problems with the pagination flowing smoothly from one doc to another.
Luckily, there is a solution, and I bless the esteemed Jerry J. Davis for cluing me into it. The brilliant minds over at Literature and Latte make a wonderful word processing app called Scrivener that runs on PC and Mac platforms, and is designed specifically for writers. It allows you to storyboard, store pictures and notes, switch back and forth between a virtual corkboard and your document, and contains all kinds of fiction and non-fiction format templates for everything from a short story to a novel manuscript to a screenplay to an article. It also outputs in a variety of formats, including ebook formats .mobi, .epub and .pdf for people who are self-publishing. I’ve used Scrivener before for my self-publishing, but never got around to using it for a novel.
That ended this afternoon, when I imported Storm Season into a new Scrivener doc. Yes, it took an hour to get everything fixed and set up the way it was supposed to be, but as a result I realized that I’d somehow seriously defaulted on the size of Chapter Three and it had to be expanded, which in itself was massively useful. Writing in Scrivener also seems much easier to me, and Lord knows its easier to learn and work with than Word. You can download a free trial for thirty days — if you like it, the app is $45. If you’re developing a loathing for Word that’s interfering with your writing, go check it out. I truly think you’ll be glad you did.
Nicola Cameron Writes 