What a surprise this November is turning out to be. The best laid plans… as they say. But I have never been one to stick with plans if something tells me I need to mix it up and to go a different direction.
For NaNoWriMo this year, my Pod People (aka characters seeded in my brain by aliens) spun me around blindfolded under a pinata and after bashing away, I’ve made all sorts of turns and transitions in my writing career.
And I’m totally thrilled and surprised by the results.
In the first week, I changed my project three times. Then, I had an epiphany. I needed to unpublish my novels. Books One and Two in The Starlight Chronicles were languishing, loveless in the nether regions of the Kindle Universe. I’m still working on the conclusion and thought at one point that would be my focus for November.
But the pressure of completing my series has been weighing on me. I decided that getting them off the market, using the time to finish and polish them, finding a book cover artist for a cohesive professional look, and launching them with a fresh marketing campaign might be exactly what they, and I need.
An exhilarating freedom resulted. I’ve been infused with new energy. There are three other novels in the works that are getting the attention they deserve. I made one of them my focus for November but decided not to worry about hitting my goal if I want to write on other projects. What a relief that has been, and I’ve made progress with them all.
I have also allowed myself to participate in various flash fiction and short story competitions, which have been more enjoyable without the pressure of getting that third installment done.
Other factors played a huge role in my rejuvenation. I belong to a writer’s alliance and the support I got for this crucial decision was phenomenal. A Twitter post by a member of the Writing Community about deciding to unpublish was ever so timely. And advice on holding onto the joy of writing while letting go of the drudgery of marketing sealed the deal. You can join that discussion in my recent interview with Sci-Fi author, Kent Wayne.
The month is not over folks… I wonder what other surprises might be in store. And please. Tell me how your November is shaping up.
The Death’s Head Omen is a recent micro fiction story I entered in a contest. Results in January.
I can’t deny I was pleased with this summary. I worked hard on polishing my first microfiction 24-hour submission to NYC Midnight’s 250-word Microfiction Challenge 2022, and maybe… just maybe, this will mean something in the judging. We will see (but not until January!). These events are amazing for anyone who wants the challenge of getting a complete story into a tiny format. And for those of you who are participating with me, the best of luck!
Check out AutoCrit if you haven’t already. I recommend it as a great writing resource with powerful analytics.
Selena Aires is fine with her nine-to-five life in the city, using her spare time to create art instead of making friends or finding love, until her mentor insists she’s on the wrong path.
When he dies, her grief and faith in his convictions prompts her to move to a small town in the lofty Sierra Nevada Mountains. But more is waiting for her in Quincy than the invigorating pine-scented air, endless trails, and the perfect artist bungalow. What Selena didn’t expect was an encounter with an astonishing man whose barely restrained power calls to something buried in her she had no idea was there.
The alpha of the North Star Pack thought he’d faced every challenge until he laid eyes on the new human in his territory, a beautiful artist with the heart of a warrior. Andras Johns knows instantly his life will never be the same.
The two of them must find a way to merge their opposing worlds while Selena grapples with her feelings for a man with a mystery beneath the surface and faces a destiny that’s expanded beyond her wildest imagination, a destiny fraught with peril in a world that just keeps getting stranger.
Prologue
Zigan – 1988 AD
Thunder boomed and lightning flared across the wheatfields the night Zigan materialized on the upstairs landing of the farmhouse that hunkered against the storm, square and sturdy in its aged timbers.
The floor creaked under his feet as he inspected the closed doors, using the light from the watery halfmoon. He wasn’t worried. Any noise he made was concealed by the winds that rocked the house. It took him only a moment to sense the soul he was to bind himself with for the rest of his earthly life.
Soft snoring from the room at the end of the hall confirmed her parents were asleep, and Zigan was free to carry out his purpose. Still, he paused at her threshold to savor the moment he’d waited for since he was seven, the year his parents gave him to the Order of Hala.
Since then, Zigan had trained in many disciplines to prepare for this bonding and the challenges it would bring. Decades of dedication had brought him to this time, this remote California county, and to this precious infant. He pushed open the door.
Two children slept despite the raging storm and pulsating light. His own electricity throbbed on the inside of his wrist as he approached the baby girl who came awake when he leaned over the crib. Her arms and legs wiggled in response to the magic he sent surging around them.
The tiny being made no sound as she watched him from unusual ochre eyes rimmed in silver. Eyes that confirmed she was the one. He noted the feature unique to the human she was in this cycle, a heart shaped face framed by a halo of shiny dark hair. These things together would help him find her when she was grown.
A faint rustling drew his attention to the bed against the opposite wall. Her four-year old brother dreamed, nestled beneath a Spiderman cover with his own mop of dark hair peeking out.
It was time to do what Zigan had come to do. He pressed his wrist against the infant’s minuscule left shoulder. An obscure image of a half-moon and a wind symbol tucked next to it formed on her delicate skin. Her eyes sparkled, and she smiled as their souls connected.
He whispered in the quiet room against the noise of the storm, “Until we meet again, grow well, my precious one.” Zigan gathered his mist and was gone.
Chapter 1
Selena – Present Day
Gemma Landry rested her hand next to my sketchpad after setting down my beer, and I pulled my attention away from my drawing to look up at her glittering violet eyes. “Look past my hip. The show’s about to begin.”
A screech confirmed her prediction, and the source of the unruly sound tossed her drink into a man’s face.
“They’re at it again. You can see the air vibrating between them. I didn’t think drink-tossing was a thing in real life,” I said with a fair amount of amazement.
The Starlight’s cook, Kenny Sullivan, appeared at the kitchen door, wiping his hands on his apron. He winked at us while we waited for the drama to unfold between two regulars who got into heated arguments at least once a week. They had to enjoy the constant conflict.
It was the sort of scene that inspired my art, and I turned to a fresh page in my journal and started drawing.
I prodded Gemma for more predictions. “What do you think Jason’s going to do about the message dripping down his face?”
She laughed. “I’ll wager you one of Kenny’s tuna melts he walks away without kissing Lucy like he wants to, despite the insult.”
“You’re on.”
Jason’s posturing didn’t faze his wife, who kept the sparks flying his way. At one point their lips were so close they nearly brushed together, and I thought I might win the bet. But they pulled back before they made contact, and that’s when I noticed something more subtle in their interaction. An odd light flashed in both pairs of eyes.
I swallowed. “I can’t be the only one who sees that.”
Gemma cleared her throat. “Yeah. I see it. And I have no idea what it means.”
Judging by her tone and the fact that the Starlight’s most popular server was tapped into everything that went on in this pub, I was sure she had at least an inkling. But I let it go for now and added more to my drawing, even as the hairs prickled on the back of my neck like they did every time these two dueled.
Though we were convinced something more would happen, it never did. That didn’t stop us from waiting for it. I laid down more charcoal.
“How do you do that?” Gemma said as she leaned over me. “Getting action to leap from your pages. It’s two faces, and they aren’t even moving.”
“There’s a trick to it, and anyone can learn. I’ll show you sometime.” I drew her attention to other intriguing characters hunched over their beers at a table in the opposite corner. “I’ll bet you a chicken salad at Jean’s that one of those men will intervene.”
We looked at five Harley Davidson riders who, for whatever reason, acted as informal security. At least they appeared to be bikers, but like so many things in this place, more lurked under the surface.
Gemma snorted. “Nope. Not taking that one.”
I watched in fascination when the one who demonstrated authority with every move gave a wordless command to one of the other four, a man whose face was shrouded by his hood and even weirder, ebbing shadows. The effect combined with his aura of power kept me from voicing my observations. What I saw was too strange for words.
Jason stiffened in response to whatever the hooded man said, shrugged his beefy shoulders, and left without a backward glance. I didn’t blame him. I would obey the shadowy guy without question too.
The shrouded face bent to Lucy’s ear next. Her shoulders slumped and she nodded. The lights in her eyes retreated. When she joined her friends at the bar, she was no different than any other half of a rowdy Starlight couple, and I could almost believe I’d imagined all the strange signals.
Kenny caught my eye again and grinned before disappearing into the kitchen. Red Russo, the proprietor of this establishment had observed the whole thing while he stood next to Kenny rubbing a towel over a glass mug. I wasn’t surprised when he traded a glance with the honey-blond giant giving the orders.
Gemma squeezed my shoulder and headed to her next table, her black braid with purple highlights whipping around her hips. I thought about her mysterious tone earlier. Gemma might be carefree on the outside, but worry lines etched across her forehead, and she held secrets in her eyes. I wanted to help with whatever it was and hoped she would let me in soon, or I might have to start probing.
Sometimes it felt like everyone at the Starlight had secrets, and I looked down at my drawing, wondering if that were true for most small towns. I risked another peek at the five men crammed into that table. It was no surprise when the blond giant mentioned earlier looked my way.
He nodded. It wasn’t the first time.
Despite the heat flaring up my neck and the fluttering in my belly, my stubborn side kicked in, and I gave him my best smile. He held my gaze but didn’t smile back.
These exchanges were getting harder to respond to because each time, he appeared to question his wisdom in acknowledging my existence. It was confusing as hell, and it had been going on for weeks.
I broke the contact, finished my beer, and turned to another page in my journal. The sketch I landed on marked the beginning of what I could only describe as a reluctant fascination.
By D. L. Lewellyn 