Someone asked me what kind of books I write. I have to admit that I'm sorta stumped. I think they're pretty sexy, of course. But they're also exciting, tender, funny, and uh, odd. Yep, odd. For some strange reason my brain seems to have a kink in it. I can just hear it now. What do you mean, odd?
Well, for one thing, in Dancer's Delight, part of the Mystic Valley series, the valley people are blue, have pointed ears and short fangs. The thing that makes it odd is that I feel like they're just normal people. They live, love, eat, hunt, and do all the stuff that normal people do. But my editor insists that blue people that routinely use telepathy are part of the "paranormal" sub-genre. So...odd.
Then there's Chrysanthemum, part of the Flowers of Camelot series. "Why flowers?" my friend Cindy asked. Well, here's the way it was. In the beginning, this was supposed to be the first of a serious trilogy about three sisters that go to Camelot (yes, the one with King Arthur) and find husbands among the Knights of the Round Table. Then something went wrong.
Not sure what happened there, but in the first few paragraphs the characters hi-jacked the story and quicker than you could say Lancelot, the plot went with the wind. Now I have this odd set of books that seems to be taking on a life of its own with a wild cast of characters with names like Nanny Anny (yes, Janet, I'm working on her book!) and Percival the Dragon and Gerald the Giant. Uh, that's the ones I can put in a G rated blog. Oh, yeah. There's dragons and unicorns and trolls and faeries...
So, I thought I would try one more time--really, how difficult can it be to write a serious story? I have a lot of author friends that do it every day. Maybe if I think about sad things?
I started off with a serious suspense story about a girl that takes the dog out for a walk and witnesses a possible body disposal so she's kidnapped and ends up as part of a white slavery ring, but she's rescued by a family of angels that are also shape shifters... you see? Do you see what happens? Pretty soon, the story just leaves the tracks and heads for the cliff. Sigh.
Well, I finished it (Winter Hearts) and of course there are more books to write because the other family members want me to tell their stories, too. I foresee a string of books about Cage and Rack and Zipporah. And I have to wonder what kind of trouble they'll get up to.
My friend Jane has been agitating for me to finish a story about a group of middle-aged women who belong to the Dead Relatives Club. You would think that there couldn't possibly be anything funny about a bunch of middle-aged women. We'll see. I'm only on page eighteen and already they're misbehaving. I don't hold out much hope for them. Especially when this little voice in my head keeps chanting "Myrtle's girdle, Myrtle's girdle" and I just know it's gonna show up somewhere in this blasted story.
I tell you what. If you can think of a way to describe my style, you let me know. Maybe I'll have it printed on my business cards and magnets.