My Writing Process- Blog Tour

I'd like to thank Jolynn Raymond for mentioning and tagging me in her writing process blog post. I found that she and I share some common threads when it comes to the process of writing. I've also learned that we share a love for the darker side of imagination. Such as in her book 'Elizabeth's Destiny' a Kinky Historical Romance.

Now, let's talk about the process of how that blank page (paper or digital) goes from empty to full, page after page after page, until we have what we call a workable Manuscript/Story. I was given 4 questions to focus on while answering what the writing process is like for me.

1. What am I working on? 
I'm working on a few things actually. From a story standpoint I am currently working on a collection of paranormal stories I plan on calling (The Dare series). The first book, -pending publication- is about a young woman in her  mid-twenties who like many of us, has an other than admirable past. (How typical, right?) Well, yes and no. 
When Cassandra Dare meets Gregorie Darnsworth her typical and other than admirable life changes. Because the setting takes place in modern day Cassy can do little more than laugh when Gregorie makes his confession to being a Vampire. We all know vampires are little more than legendary myths and misconceptions, right?

I got to thinking though, especially in this modern age that we all currently live in. What if all those myths and legends DO have a ring of truth behind them after-all? How could I, as a writer, convey to others that what they passively dismiss as fantasy, urban legend, and myth, could in fact be closer to reality than we might think? 
The first book in this series touches on a specifically marked year in history and gives a somewhat logical explanation as to why vampires might really exist. Not having met under the best circumstances, Gregorie and Cassandra are off to a bittersweet beginning. The moment he lays eyes on her and smells the blood of her wounds he knows she is a descendant of his late wife. Having all but given up on finding any happiness in his life for nearly the last 100 years, Gregorie is inspired by the sight of this young woman and feels compelled to make her his. 
Cassy on the other hand wants nothing to do with the strange but handsome dark haired man who had drugged her and held her captive under sedation for 4 days, that is, until she learns he's a real vampire. 
In the second book, my theory on why vampires might really exist is further elaborated on through the story of a couple that was briefly introduced in the first book, which is the story I'm currently developing, in my spare time, when I'm not tweeting, engrossed in facebook or other social media platforms.

2. How does your work differ from others of it's genre? 
 That's a tough question for me because I consider myself a relatively new writer. Not new to the love of writing, but new to the world of being a published author. 
I think that one of the main attributes that sets all writers apart whether they publish in the same genre or not is their style. The unique voice inside their head that tells them which words to use when conveying their story. No two people ever see something in exactly the same way, and this is what I feel is unique and sets me apart from others. 
Maddie Taylor and I embarked as budding new authors at nearly the same time and have helped each other learn along the way, and although we write in the same genres our work could not be more different. Maddie is a feisty, fun loving, and upbeat person. I find that the characters in her books portray a reflection to the zest and zeal I see in her as a friend. I love her books. She always offers a spicy plot with hot, hunky, heroes and feisty, smart witted heroines who always find a way to make me laugh.

I tend to focus more on the darker side of things. I like to explore a single thought, idea or myth and then bring it to life through my characters and see where they take me. Most of the time that ends up being some dark passage through my mind that opens up into a world of bittersweet possibilities. 
For example in my first book, 'Seduction: The Story of M', we start out with the heroine being abducted and throughout the story we see how Misty's first impressions of this man change from day to day. In the end he's not as much the bad guy she thought he was.
The Story of L opens up with a woman making the decision to give up all her independent rights and undergo a special form of slave training in order to please the man she thinks she loves. The full story fans out over the course of 3 books and explains what L learns about herself during her journey to better understand her submissive nature. 
So really I think that was makes my work different... is me! which brings us to the next question. 

3. Why do I write what I do?
Because one of my favorite things to do is subtly pry into the minds of others. Most people get really annoyed when I start peeling back the layers of their psyche with my probing, and sometimes disturbing questions, so I turn to making up characters and stories that allow me to do so without upsetting anyone. 
I like to write about what I find intriguing and fascinating... dark secrets, inhibitions, dominance and submission and almost anything have to do with BDSM. 
I keep hearing the phrase..."Write what you know." 
I guess I have a bit of an issue with that because it's a lot more fun to write about what I don't know. It engages my imagination to fill in the blanks and tell a unique story from an unproven source of reality. For me it's more fun and freeing to experience something through a character than to commit myself to the physical aspect of such an experience. Which is also probably the reason I enjoy writing my stories from a darker point of view. 

4. How does your writing process work?
It's a delicate recipe consisting of coffee and whatever life throws my way for the day. I'd like to have a schedule and set hours of when no one is allowed to interrupt me, but so far that hasn't happened. I have this really cool looking 'Do Not Disturb' sign for my writing room door. It blinks in 3 different colors and has an audio alarm that goes off if anyone touches the door. My dogs love it. They purposely scratch at the door to trigger the alarm and then bark at it until it stops only to repeat the sequence over and over until I pull the battery out. 

I need to be alone when I write. It's like my imagination demands the whole room, shrouding it under an invisible force of security so that the little thing we writers call our 'muse', feels free to come out and play. Only mine doesn't really come out to play. I would describe it more like being temporarily possessed one character at a time.

Many writers like to use outlines, but I'm not one of them. I'm a panster and enjoy getting the story as the characters develop and show me who they are. I never know how a story is going to end until I finally get there and it all comes together. Sometimes I get a little worried when I get to that part where I think I should be finding my conclusion, but can't. I've learned that when that happens it's best just to leave the grumpy muse alone for a few days and come back when she or he is done being pissy at me.
I like early mornings when the house is quite and the birds are just starting to stir for the day. 
Once the phone starts ringing and the day comes to life with all it's perfect imperfections and tedious little demands my muse gives me a hug and says 'see ya later'. 
In between the demands of the day, I try to squeeze in some social networking and blogging, which has lead me to some very useful tips and full array of other deliciously talented authors, which is why I enjoy these blog hops.

This hop doesn't have a linky list, it's simply meant to be passed on by way of mentioning other authors who you admire and would like to learn more about, which is why... 

I'm tagging Maddie Taylor. Her stories will rock your socks off. Don't believe me, go to her page and pick one. You won't be disappointed. One of my Favorites is Marshals Law. The heroine gets into a strange and unfortunate accident and when she wakes she realizes she's no longer in the same time period as she was when her car veered off the road. Learning about how she handles being stuck back in time is sweet, funny, sexy, and endearing in only a way Maddie herself can describe.

I'd also like to mention Trent Evans I'm not tagging Trent, just mentioning this unique author because I've been following his excerpts on other blog hops and his talent for use of interesting words and story telling is amazing. I've just finished reading  'A Lady and A Maid' and I am blown away by how captivating this story is and how the author wraps you into the plot like a warm blanket while your reading.

And with that, I'd like to thank you for visiting my blog and wish you a wonderful week full of scary spiders and things that go bump in the night... errr... What I meant  was, I hope you have an exceptionally happy day as a result of viewing this blog. 

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#Dungeon Crawl- Welcome to Wonderlust

Happy Hump day Dungeon Crawlers, it's good to see you back this week. Spring is finally in the air and I have a special snippet from The Story of M called Wonderlust. Remember last week's Forth Floor? Well, this week were going to find out a little bit about the show Robert takes Misty to see on the last day of the BDSM convention in the hotel. Grab your popcorn or coffee and get comfy while Robert leads Misty into the dimly lit Oval banquet hall.

It was almost 7:30 when we walked into the oval banquet hall. The lights were dim in the audience. Nicely padded folding chairs were set more to the front of the room, while plush armchairs and loveseats skirted the edges and far back of the room. He held my arm in his while we approached a loveseat in the far back of the room. 
It had a sign on it, 'reserved for # 618.'
“You reserved a seat?” I whispered. 

“Of course, I always make a donation to the last day exhibitions.” 

As we took our seat I set my eyes to what was going on in the front of the room. A small stage was set to represent a dungeon. A young blond haired woman was on display, bound hand and foot between two large wooden posts. (I know the girl below is not blonde..sorry, these pics are just so hard to find)

She wore a dainty little rag of a covering from mid hip to just below her pussy lips. Her chest was bare with the exception of the corded rope tied in crisscross attire over and under her breasts, accentuating and exemplifying them. It was wound tight several times just under her breasts and also tied to the post on each side of her. I got the impression she was to represent having been captured. She had a piece of cloth that matched her ragged little skirt tied as a gag around her mouth. She looked quite pitiful and helpless. 

“It looks like we just caught the beginning of this one.” He whispered and put his arm around me pulling me back a bit as if suggesting I sit back and relax. I leaned into him a little bit making myself comfortable.
A husky dark haired man walked up onto the stage. He wore black jeans, no shirt over his hairy chest and carried a coiled whip in his hand. He walked over to a small table offset behind the young woman and picked up what looked like a slate. 
He read aloud. “Here for punishments, level two.” 
Then he set down the slate and walked towards the woman. He cracked the whip into the air behind her and you could hear it slicing through the air, as woman’s body tensed. The next one made contact with her backside although it was hard to tell where. 
She lurched and bucked at the restraints as the audible crack made its way to the back of the room. 
He walked towards her and grabbed her hair, pulling it back so he could look at her face while he stepped up close behind her. She shrieked as her head got yanked back. 
“You’re a new little slave aren’t you?” His voice boomed so all could hear. 
 She tried to nod her head and garbled something as he peered down on her face. 
“Damn, then I must keep too level two punishments,” he complained, flinging her head forward. He gave a pouty look to the audience.
Some in the audience laughed, while he returned to the little table. When he returned at her side, he showed the audience a pair of nipple clamps with small weights hanging from them. 
Turning his attention to the slave girl, he attached each one to her nipples, trying to stand in a way the audience could see as he put them on. Her face looked strained while she tried to hold still, accepting the bite of his clamps. I felt a twinge in my own nipples wondering how much that hurt. It looked like she was biting down hard on the gag. 

He pulled the whip from his back pocket and coiled it up in his hand and then trailed it up her inner thigh. Lifting her ragged cloth with the handle, he showed the audience her shaved pussy and then dropped the cloth. 
He pawed at one of her breasts, squeezing and shaking it so that weight would move. It was faint but I could hear her whimpers. He moved the coils of the whip between her thighs and rubbed up and down them, while he licked the hardened nubs of her nipples. 
His hand disappeared up under her little cloth and she groaned wriggling her hips, as he dropped the coils of the whip to the floor before backing away from her.

She pulled her head forward her eyes following him.

He gathered up a portion of his whip and then lashed out at her with it, striking her inner thigh. Her body jolted while she let out a very clear yelp. He returned it with a crisp sounding crack under her belly button. 
“Dance for me, little slave,” he commanded striking again her inner thigh. 

Her body commenced to the command of the whip, jerking and pulling at her restraints. He moved around her body lashing her several more times, at least three across her breasts and more on her backside. Her body started to quiver while she groaned and tried to beg him behind that gag. 
Her pleas were unheard until he was satisfied with his handy work. He pocketed the handle of his whip and moved in close to her body again, inspecting the pink marks of his whip, tracing some of them on her inner thigh with his fingers. 
He inspected her modestly and licked the marks along her breasts. 
It sounded like she was thanking him, the gag was wet and spittle had accumulating near the corners of her mouth. 
He moved around behind her, making the same inspections. Then he removed her rag cloth from her hips. He stood behind her as he reached to her pussy lips and pulled them open, exposing her wetness to the audience.  
Using two fingers he pushed them far up inside her. It made me think of what happened to me in the hallway last night as she let her head fall back against him and groaned. 
While he was working her pussy he pulled his whip out again and started to rub the smooth handle of it over her clit rapidly. 
Her hips were bucking and thrashing and you could see her pulling at the restraints while she whimpered and moaned. It wasn’t long until she was near orgasm. Her head was shaking back and forth and the weights on her nipples were swaying to and fro. 
He feathered her clit faster with the handle as he pulled his fingers from her ripe juicy cunt, spreading the wetness up her stomach. He reached over to one of the weights and removed it. 
She screamed loudly and her body shook immensely. He removed the other one and her whole body looked like it was vibrating while she let out a long shaky scream. 
He let the weights drop to the floor with a thud and then rolled and pinched each of her nipples, while she thrashed against the bonds. He brought both hands to her sex, holding her open and exposed while he delved his fingers back inside of her and pumped them, while ravaging her swollen bud with his thumb.
Within moments she was lost, deep in orgasm. Her head was thrashing against his shoulder and every part of her body was lost in wave after wave of blissful torment. Her hips thrashed and bucked into his hands, her voice shrill as she gasped and whimpered. 
He pushed his fingers back up inside of her and started pumping them fast. Her eyes were shut tight while she bit down on the cloth gag, and her face looked anguished. Soon it was inevitable and the spray of female ejaculate covered his fingers and hand while she squealed. 
It dripped down her inner thighs leaving a good-sized puddle on the stage floor. 
When he finally pulled both his hands from her body, her head fell forward and her blond hair shrouded her face. 
The audience started to clap. The husky man pulled her ragged cloth from his front pocket and wiped off his hands, bowing to the applauding audience. Then he walked over to his little slave girl, lifted her face and gave her a quick little kiss. He was whispering something to her while two other men came out carrying a partition and blocked the view to the stage while the young woman was obviously removed from her bonds. 

“Did you enjoy that Misty?” 

“It rather reminded me of something that occurred last night between us, Sir.” I whispered, a smile touching my lips. 

“I know that, but did you enjoy seeing it happen to someone else?” He pulled me up closer to him, tucking his hand under my arm and wrapping his fingers around my left breast as he cinched my upper body tightly against his.

“Yes, Sir,” I had to admit. 

“Did it arouse you Misty?” 

“Yes, Sir,” I answered a second time. 
The heat of a blush crossed my face as he moved his  hand, slipping it  under my skirt. “Please, Sir—” 
He hushed me and told me trust him. I looked around the audience as his fingers crept into my crotch. All I could really see were the silhouettes of the men and woman in the audience. He parted my lips and I blushed all the more when he found my pussy wet with arousal. 

“Oh my, I think you enjoyed that very much.” He chuckled softly. “I bet if I just circled your little clit a few times you might be ready to come too.” He slowly removed his hand. 
I turned my face into his chest with embarrassment and laid my arm across his abdomen like I was hugging him. 
Soon the two men were carting off the partition and the whole backdrop of the stage had been changed to look a country barnyard.

I hope you've enjoyed the first scene of Wonderlust. If you're curious about scene two and what happens in the barnyard drop me an "I want more" in the comment section below... but I must warn you, the next act is not for the faint of heart. You know what often happens in barnyards don't you? Something or someone is bound to get milked. 
Before you put to much thought into that, please take a look at the other talented authors participating in this weeks Crawl.
 

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