There was a time when I never knew what my next writing project was going to be. Writing was something I did in the privacy of my room, never intending for anyone to see it. Even when I started getting serious about my writing, I was more of a pantser, even when it came to what I would write next. Somewhere along the line that changed — even if Myrtle the Evil Muse sometimes throws my plans out the window.
I’m not sure when that started changing but, as I sat down to work the other day, I realized that was no longer the case. My calendar has project dates on it now — dates showing when I need to have drafts finished and edits done, when I need to send work out to beta readers and when I need it back. What gremlin has been working with my electronic devices when I wasn’t looking? Surely, my process hasn’t changed that much.
But it has.
It’s had to. With four active series right now and several stand-alone books planned, I’ve had to get more organized about what I’m working on. What surprised me, however, was finding that I’ve made actual notes, some very detailed, about where two of the series are going over the course of the next few books. I’ve made less detailed notes about the other series and the stand-alones. But that is something I used to never do. I have a plan and it scares me.
Why does it scare me?
Because that is when Myrtle the Evil Muse usually rears her well-coiffed head. With a smile, she then tosses out an idea I can’t ignore — for something that is totally unrelated to what I’m working on.
So far, however, she’s being good. I have finished the final draft for Nocturnal Challenge, the fifth book in the Nocturnal Lives series, and have started the final edits. I have the next Honor and Duty novel mapped out (as well as some other exciting things in the series I’ll be announcing later). There’s one novel and several novellas mapped out — and one novella basically written — in the Eerie Side of the Tracks series. Best of all, inspiration has finally hit for the third book in the Sword of the Gods series. It is very loud right now, not loud enough to write but loud enough that I can jot down some plot notes for later.
Of course, Myrtle isn’t one to cooperate for long. She tried pushing a story — or two — on me last week. In fact, she gave me this opening and is all but daring me not to drop everything and get to work on it.
I was five when they came for my brother. Two men, one tall and thin the other short and stocky. Both wore uniforms I had never seen before with lots of medals shining on their chests. Mom cried. I’d never seen her cry before and Dad’s hands shook as he read the paper the tall man handed him. Then, with tears in his eyes, he told Mom there was nothing they could do. Before I knew what was happening, Aiden was gone and I haven’t seen him since.
I was thirteen when they came for me.
Not that I’m going to fall for it. I have saved that, as well as notes for the other story, in my future projects file and I’ve crossed my fingers — and my toes — that Myrtle is satisfied with that. In the meantime, I’m finishing the edits on Challenge, preparing to write a quick novella in the Eerie Side of the Creek universe. Then it will be the next Honor and Duty book followed by the third Sword of the Gods book. There’s more in the hopper but, if all goes as planned, there will be a new title, either short story or novella or novel, every other month. You see, if I don’t keep that busy, Myrtle gets bored and that’s when she’s her most dangerous.
In the meantime, here’s a teaser for Nocturnal Rebellion, coming soon.
The bullpen fell silent as Chief of Detectives, Luis Santiago, moved to the front of the room. The look on his face mirrored how they each felt. Disbelief, sorrow and anger – but mostly anger – burned in his dark eyes. They knew why he was there. Every cop, not to mention every cop’s family, faced this possibility each time they reported for duty. But that didn’t make it any easier, especially not when it hit this close to home.
Santiago looked around the squad room, making eye contact with each person there. It didn’t surprise him to find more than the day shift present. He had no doubt were he to check the other squads under his command, he would find the same thing. When a cop went down in the line of duty, no one worried about vacation or sick leave. Every cop, no matter what their rank or their assignment, would report in, ready to do all they could to find the perps responsible. That knowledge made him proud to be part of the long blue line. Not that it made this part of his job any easier. Fortunately, it was not something he had to do often, but even once was one time to many.
Standing there, seeing how each of those assigned to Homicide waited, hoping he had good news for them but knowing he did not, he drew a deep breath. He could have let someone else handle this. But that would have been the easy way out and he had never been one to push the uncomfortable parts of the job off on someone else. Besides, he owed it to them, and to their lieutenant, to make sure they understood that even though he no longer worked cases on the board, he was still one of them. He hurt with them and he thirsted for the same vengeance they did.
“I’m not going to tell you this gets easier. It doesn’t and each of you knows it. Let’s be honest. This squad has faced more than its fair share of challenges these last two years.” He paused and reached up to rub his eyes, burning with unshed tears, with thumb and forefinger. As he did, he felt every one of the last twenty-six hours he had been awake. Twenty-six hours of sitting vigil at the hospital and then talking with family members, of briefing Chief of Police Darnell Culver, and of doing all he could to head off any interference by the feds. Three of his own had gone down and he was damned if he was going to let the feds or any other agency take over the case. Then he cleared his throat and continued. “Each and every time, you have risen to the challenge and done what was necessary to carry out your duties as members of the DPD. I know I’m asking a lot now, but I need you to do so once again.
“The next few days are going to be difficult for the entire force, but especially for you. You not only lost one of your own yesterday but others of the cop family as well. I’ve spend a great deal of time with the families of our fallen brethren and they’ve asked me to let you know arrangements have been made. They thank each of you for all the time you have spent with them since the ambush. They have asked that, until the funeral, members of this squad continue to be with them. They know you were all family and they will feel better having someone who knew their loved one with them. Sergeant Collins, I’ll leave it to you to arrange schedules to accommodate this request.” He glanced at the squad’s acting commander and she nodded, her expression grim.
“In three days, we will lay the first of our fallen, to rest. I expect each of you to be there in dress uniform, representing not only this squad but the best of the force. Show the city that we bleed blue. Then show them that DPD does its job, no matter what. Find the bastards responsible for the ambush and bring them in to face justice.
“It would be easy to seek vengeance. I understand that feeling because I share it. No one, no matter who they are, is allowed to kill one of our own. But we will not lower ourselves, or the rest of DPD, down to those bastards’ level. Find them and bring them in. We will let the courts deal with them and, when the time comes, we will be sitting on the front row of the viewing chamber when they are brought in for their executions.” He glanced around as detectives, uniformed officers and clerical workers nodded grimly. “Do your lieutenant proud and find those bastards before they manage to kill anyone else.”
As one, everyone present turned to look at the darkened office with its closed door and silence so profound it felt almost alive filled the squad room. Then a tall blonde with short cropped hair, her expression stone-cold, pain reflected in her eyes, stepped forward. The others waited, watching as she approached Santiago.
“Sergeant Collins, the squad is yours,” the Chief of Detectives said. “Close this case before the feds try to take over. We will not step aside for anyone, not this time.”
The blonde nodded. As she did, she blinked back the tears swimming in her eyes. “Yes, sir.”
He nodded once and shook her hand. Then he turned and left the squad room. As the door closed behind him, Pat drew a deep breath. Whether she liked it or not, the squad was hers and she had a duty to do, a duty to the DPD, her partner and her squad.
“The Chief’s right,” she said softly. She did not try to hide her grief. Each person in the room shared it. “We have to work this like any other case, but let’s be honest. This isn’t just any other case and it never will be. We will have the press looking at everything we do, questioning each move and every word spoken. Worse, IAB is going to be nosing around.” She held up a hand before anyone could protest.
“Hear me on this. No one likes the idea of the rat squad poking around. This squad has first-hand knowledge how they can twist things to meet their own needs. So I want every i dotted and every t crossed in this investigation. Work this case like your life depends on it because it very well may. We have cop killers running loose on our streets and none of us are safe until we find them. So, when IAB comes calling, we will answer their questions. The quicker we do, the quicker we get them out of the squad and out of the investigation. Don’t play games with them. If they ask or allude to anything that sets off your warning bells, let me know.
“From now until this case is solved, it’s all hands on deck. All vacation time is canceled until further notice. If you call in sick, you’d damn well better have a doctor telling me you are on your death bed. Work your contacts and get your CI’s on the street and asking questions. Finding these bastards is our priority now. That said, make sure your other cases are worked as well. Don’t miss any court dates. But hear me,this is our priority. We will find the bastards behind the ambush and we will be the ones to bring them in.”
With that, she strode across the bullpen. Pausing before the door to the office that had been her partner’s she reached down to turn the knob. As she did, her hand shook. A sob rose in her throat. She choked it down. She had to maintain control until she was behind closed doors. The squad was hers, at least until Chief Culver found someone to replace Lt. Mackenzie Santos, not that anyone could ever fill her shoes as a cop or as a partner and friend.
Damn it, Mac. I wish you were here.
Nocturnal Origins is the first book in the Nocturnal Lives series.
Some things can never be forgotten, no matter how hard you try.
Detective Sergeant Mackenzie Santos knows that bitter lesson all too well. The day she died changed her life and her perception of the world forever.It doesn’t matter that everyone, even her doctors, believe a miracle occurred when she awoke in the hospital morgue. Mac knows better. It hadn’t been a miracle, at least not a holy one. As far as she’s concerned, that’s the day the dogs of Hell came for her.
Investigating one of the most horrendous murders in recent Dallas history, Mac also has to break in a new partner and deal with nosy reporters who follow her every move and who publish confidential details of the investigation without a qualm.
Complicating matters even more, Mac learns the truth about her family and herself, a truth that forces her to deal with the monster within, as well as those on the outside.But none of this matters as much as discovering the identity of the murderer before he can kill again.
I have been pantsing a lot this year. Things are starting to come together though in one sense. I am writing down ideas, and I get flashes of “later scenes” to give me direction. I am also trying to get world building in when I don’t have any inspiration to continue with current WIP’s. My handy dandy notebook/pad are great tools for jotting down flashes of inspiration.
All I need is some quiet time to write. *whimper*
Maybe I need to actually start scheduling things like that. If only life and the fates would cooperate with me on that.
I know what you mean about quiet time. I’ve taken to going to a neighborhood coffeeshop once or twice a week for an hour or so just so I have time to hear myself think.
I can only pants so long before i start ‘writing notes’ and those start growing themselves
My Muse . . . I really was going to take a break from the Big Series. But of course, that was all the prod it needed to infect me with a whole bloody novel. 82K and nearly finished. So _now_ I can get to the demonic werewolves, right? And the time travel story after that . . . Right?
Suuure. You keep believing that. VBEG
I interpret this in a way that fits my preconceptions. Do a process dependent on some irregular mental feature enough times while while aware of what needs to change, and the mind can learn better ways to do things.
Personally, my own projects have kept me learning. I’m a bit of a flake, and don’t have the project management skills I need, but I’ve been improving.
I’m getting a wee bit nervous. The Muse is quiet. Too quiet. I think I’m about to get sandbagged with a series. I just want a few stand-alone stories, not another series!
Oops. You just jinxed yourself. You should know that you never, ever say something like that. VBEG
c4c because headaches.
btw, have you looked into botox for the headaches? Neurologists in Canada are having some success with it, probably in Oz too.
Weed apparently also can help with non-responsive migraines as well, but I don’t know what the rules in Oz are. I would -not- experiment with illegal weed, you never know where its been or what’s in it. Legal, might be worth a look. Cheaper than Zomig, that’s for sure.
Never, on weed. I had some friends in high school/college who were potheads. I didn’t like how I felt from the second hand smoke. Also, smoking.
This one is weather related. I just have to hope that rain/storm front heads this way for the ow to go away.
Weed would certainly not be a first line thing to try. More like all-else-has-failed-nothing-to-lose type of thing.
I’m acquainted with docs who have prescribing weed as part of their practice (aka medical marijuana, being ever so proper). They report -some- people having positive results with -some- strains of weed, but not others.
Picking some up from Jimmy-down-the-corner probably not worth the effort, at best.
But, like it or not, legal weed is coming soon to Canada. Mostly for the tax revenue, from what I can tell.
which i am fine with. I’m fine with it being legalized here, as long as it gets off schedule one so that i can have some and my firearms in the same house without an automatic five-year sentence (which is why i don’t have a CA state MM card)
they need to legalize it and tax it… oh, about the same as cigarettes or alcohol.
whats funny is seeing all the commercials aimed at growers talkign about equipment and stuff, and radio commercials aimed at growers… and veiled references to how much they stand to make with their ‘careful procedures’ if things are legalized…
PLEASE, like podunk grower with him and his wife on an acre of land in the CA coastal mountains is going to be able to out- grow and out-research, say, Philip Morris.
Planning? Bwhaha! Planning. Ha, yeah. If only. I can’t even plan this battle I’m writing.
That’s why this new process is so frigging odd for me. I never planned. Now, it’s not just planning what I’m writing next but what comes after that and then after that — with notes even. Help me. I’m becoming organized. 😉
Robot girlfriends are laughing at the notion of me planning what they do. I am not that smart, apparently.
They still haven’t decided what they’re going to do with Laura Montgomery the FABulous FAA super lawyer. Some are leaning toward taking her out and getting her drunk, others are thinking about best two out of three at stick fighting, still others are looking at her speculatively and saying nothing.
I follow along behind with a video camera and a broom.