I learned so much writing book one that I was sure book two would be easier. Uh huh. Instead of not being organized, I am now over-organized. I fiddled with the outline for months. Fiddled with background and motifs for months. I even took up exercising—what better excuse to get out of the house and away from the computer. Then I took a short vacation and decided to get off my sleep medication—I might not sleep as well now, but my dreams are back and with it a burst of creativity. I’ve figured out holes in the plot, gave up on the outline and am writing again. Book two is taking shape. (Unlike me; I gave up exercising in favor of more time on front of the computer.)
Yes, THE GHOST CRAB is moving along. I got chapter three done in its roughest draft form and just wrote what I call The Duck Butt chapter (because the setting is a bar called, you guessed it, The Butt Duck).
Here two tiny teasers from that chapter:
The hand on his leg advanced to mid-thigh and Soren tried desperately to recall what little he knew about date rape drugs. He’d warned his sister on more than one occasion—big brother privilege—but he’d never thought to take the same precautions or pay attention himself. Hell, he was a guy. This kind of shit didn’t happen to a guy. [Think again, Soren.]
“Go back out there and sit down. As soon as I hang up with you I’ll call the bartender and make sure he keeps an eye on you and your blond. Don’t leave with him. I’m on my way already.” She hung up before Soren had time to thank her. The thought of Mason’s mother coming to his rescue made him giggle. She was a great woman, and he knew why he’d gone into debt over her Christmas present. [Bless you, Mrs. George.]