The blog of fantasy fiction author and writer Tarah L. Wolff

I’m looking for a cover designer for my book. I officially have a plan but it cannot begin until I have a fabulous cover for Embraced by Darkness. I have queried several artists I found through DeviantArt (my old stomping grounds) and have made some progress. One fantastic artist told me she does commissions for free but I sense she is suspecting something different than what I am going to throw at her. Most excellent digital artists on DeviantArt get commissions to do profiles sketches of fantasy-sci-fi game characters/not a big job in comparison to what I want on my book cover. After I get the cover done for my book I officialy have a plan.

That’s right – I have a plan.

The plan starts with me not being humble at all. I am a web designer and I know how to get to first page Google within two months. I also know how to create a website that sells. These things I have not considered thoroughly enough as being assets for selling becoming a published novelist. I came upon a pdf file of some poor writer who self-published through lulu and failed miserably (several times) the end of the pdf was that she was finally happy with her book covers and she sold a couple a month etc. I looked at her website and her book covers and could not believe she sold any a month. It also just so happens that I’ve been an editor and layout/print designer for eight years. Funny how until I read that pdf that none of this became very obvious to me. I have the experience in the industry to already know not to make the mistakes that she made. I also have enough experience in the industry that I know most people buy books online these days.

That’s right – Most people buy books online now.

Book stores are barely surviving. I know this because I’ve been in the industry close enough, for long enough, that most people buy online these days. And most of them buy used books from Amazon (if they’re smart -  I just bought a used Stephen King book for 1 cent yesterday).

On top of all of that my writers’ group (The Jackpine Writers’ Bloc) has several ISBNs more than they will ever need and are willing to give me one for free for my book. On top of that my aunt happens to be the most incredibly thorough editor I have ever seen and she’s already told me she would edit my book for me. Take note on my last sentence because on top of everything else I think this kind of editing is really what separates the shitty self published books from the publishing company books. Because of the cover, my layout design and Sharon’s professional editing. My book will not look self published but professionally finished. Also if I publish through Lulu with an ISBN I can use their marketing tools for free and that means: A Free Amazon Listing.

So Far I’ve Only Spent $15

That’s right. Only $15 and that’s for the domain registration because we have our own server and that means free hosting for me. Does it seem a little like I haven’t utilized the tools that have been given to me in the past? You’re damned right. But, I also haven’t had a finished book in the past so regardless of what I’m capable of: I won’t push or try to sell a book I’m not proud of. But now, if you haven’t noticed, I’m just about done with my book and I have the time and I can afford $15 to get my website up.

So, Here’s the Plan.

1. Register the domain embracedbydarkness.com ($15)
2. Commission an incredible bad-ass cover. ($?)
3. Get my aunt to edit my book for me. ($?)
4. Use the cover graphics to create a stunning website at the domain. ($0)
5. Launch the book on lulu (with lulu marketing) and the website ($0)
6. Pay per click advertising on Facebook using bad ass cover ($?)
7. Pay for banner advertising on DeviantArt using bad ass cover for 1 to forever ($20 per month)

Now, a couple of things I already have wrong that you may point out. First off, I really need to get my book on lulu and get lulu marketing going ASAP long before I do anything else (besides getting my domain name) because lulu marketing (getting my book in amazon listings etc.) can take up to eight weeks and I would really rather have all of the finished and set before I start paying for advertising. Regardless though, I won’t put my book up in lulu until the cover is finished so that’s priority #1 and, God knows, I’ve got absolutely no money. So, as I hope that someone may give me a commissioned cover for free, I know that that is really far fetched.

Wondering why I chose Deviantart Ads?

I bought Banner Advertising through Deviantart years ago when I was selling photography prints (or trying to). I sold a few but that wasn’t the point. The point was that I got over a thousand clicks a day for only $20 a month. It was impressive. And the Deviantart people are my kind of people. Most of them are fantasy gamers that are very much so online rats like the rest of us. In other words, the people on DA are the kind of people who would buy a fantasy book online, and God knows they would notice bad ass cover graphics in an ad and fucking click on it to take them to my even more bad ass website.

Meanwhile, I’m still working on Embraced by Darkness

I finished the first thorough read through and then speed read through the book again cutting and cutting and cutting. Last time I updated my blog the book was over 170,000 words now its down to about 163,000. That’s still not good enough for me. I am determined to cut the book down to at least 150,00 but if I could get it under 150,00 than I believe I’ll have a real something that I could sell to an agency or a publishing company.

But I’m not just cutting thoughtlessly: with every cut I am trying to improve the book. I am reading a book right now (because despite that I am pouring everything I’ve got into my own book I am always reading something besides) called Getting Into Character by Brandalinn Collins. It’s a book focusing on what a novelist can learn from actors on how to develop three dimensional characters. It’s really got me thinking and I’ve been jotting notes down while I read it in bed as I get ideas to change Embraced by Darkness, especially Osondrous, and make it more clear and focused.

I can’t tell you how much I look forward to being able to start a book from scratch. I have learned so much from having to go through this monster so many times. I know one thing for certain: I never want to have to do this again. Any book I write from here on out I am going to have a concise and very clear plan from start finish, from scene to scene. I will never write willynilly again. My boyfriends been joking, “At this point you could have just re-written the whole thing and not had so much damned editing and cutting to do.” Very depressingly, but at this point, he’s right. But there’s no going back now.

Meanwhile. Once the book is done. As you might imagine. I am going to be sending out to every Fantasy/Sci-fi agent I can find. Hopefully, somewhere, I am going to be noticed. What really terrifies me is that I better start working on the sequel.

I started this blog entry the night before last, after I had spent several hours looking for scfi-fi/fantasy places to be published and I still had part 4 of my book to go through. I felt good and I was so enthused that I named the blog post “Actual Hope” though I got nothing else written in it. I found eight places (mostly magazines) that pay and accept scfi-fi/fantasy stories. I’m excited about it and have already sent off one of my short stories for consideration. I have plans to work on four more and get those sent off as soon as possible. I’ll be so excited if just one of them gets accepted. What’s really neat is that most of them urge for novel excerpts so I’m already working on pulling some stories out of The Death of Eliana and I’m working on the same for Embraced by Darkness. For some reason all of this has made me feel pretty good. I’ve also bought some cheap back issues of most of the places; research is a must.

Meanwhile I also found seven different scfi-fi and fantasy publishing companies that accept unsolicited submissions. Woot! Though I know the reaction I’m probably going to get from all of them. “Your book’s too damn long. We can’t publish anything over 120 thousand words.” Still, knowing that those publishing houses are out there, looking for books like I want to write, and being willing to take unagented submissions is pretty fucking awesome.

And I have been working on my book. I said in the beginning of this post that the night before last I was down to Part 4 – the end of the book. If you can believe it, I’m feeling pretty good about how the whole thing is reading. There was some doubt throughout the beginning of the book and, of course, I need to work on those places. But, last night, I finished it.

I finished the first complete read-through after putting my book back together!

Without a doubt, the last half of my book is a better read than the first half. I’m hoping I can cut even more but as it stands the book is now down to 173,052 from 236,743 when I started this last push a few months ago.  That’s sixty thousand words that I’ve managed to cut. My boyfriend has taken to teasing, “How much did you delete of all your hard work today? Did it go well?” And I’ll say, “Oh yeah, I just love slaughtering it!” But, the truth of the matter is, that I’m actually not deleting any real substance from the book. Any real writer will know that what I’m doing is just improving what’s already there.

I literally sit and think, “How can I say that in less words?”

The biggest hardship I ran into in this last read through is that, because Karalay’s story is shorter, things were happening for her way before they were spurred to happen for the other characters. I.E. Karalay was reacting to Osondrous becoming queen before she actually became queen. Now, I know a lot of books do that deliberately and there was a part of me that wanted to leave it because the book was so happy and organized as it was. But, I decided, that because of the scope and size of my book, I needed to help my readers out and keep my three characters as close to the same time line as I could. So I had to change my method in Part 1 of the book.

If you’ve been keeping up with my blog posts than you know that I decided to break the book into four parts and omit chapters all together. In each part of the book I ended up going from Osondrous to Karalay to Jezaline to Osondrous to Karalay to Jezaline and then moved on to the next part. But because of Karalay’s shorter story and the fact that she HAD to end my book and the fact that she was the main character in my Epilogue I decided to pull half of her story out of Part 1 and move all of her story down. So Part 1 is now going from Osondrous to  Jezaline to Osondrous to Karalay to Jezaline and then moving on to Part 2. See diagram. None of the other Parts have changed but I feel this was necessary and the fact of the matter is, no one reading the book is going to care or notice.

I want to cut more.

It’s painful and it’s true. I need to cut more and I want to cut more. There are two places in the book I hope I can slice more of it out, maybe not more than a few thousand words but if I can get the book down into the hundred and sixty thousand word area I think it will look better. Really anything shorter than it is now will look better to publishers.

But I’m not going to start cutting rashly. I’m going to read through it, one more time, and cut as I go. I hate to say it, and it does pain me quite a bit, but the truth of the matter is the places I’m thinking of cutting are out of Jezaline and Karalay’s stories which is pretty frustrating because Osondrous has the most words in the book. But, as I’m typing this I am thinking of a place in Osondrous’ story too that I noticed. When I read through it again I really hope I can cut them down without mercy and maybe “crosses fingers” even cut another ten thousand words out of the book.

So, wish me luck!

Well, I said very apprehensively in my last post that my next post will be, hopefully, saying that I have finished Karalay’s part of the book and am starting the work of putting my good back together. Well..

It’s better than that!!

Yesterday I sat down at about 2 o’clock in the afternoon and at 9 thirty I finished going through Karalay’s portion of the book the second, and last, time. I was so excited I could barely hold myself back from putting the book together to spend time with my boyfriend and my mom. But I did. I took a break and didn’t go back to my book until nearly 11 thirty.

Than I got to it. And I’m just going to say it: it was fucking hard and stressful.

I wanted to put my book back together in an organized and thoughtful way. I had roughly the same amount of pages between Karalay and Jezaline but Osondrous had about 30 more than that. I wanted four part and to have about an equal amount of pages in each of the four parts of the book. I had already decided how far into the book the Epilogue would go (that was easy because I had already done that though this is the first time I’m calling it an Epilogue, I’m still not sure about that). And I decided to number the pauses in the book (where most people might put chapters) starting at 1 and going up through each of the parts and the epilogue too. I did not indent the epilogue though, I wanted it to look unique from the rest of the book and, though I know they are important, I hate the way paragraph indents look. I chose a Nimbus sans font for the whole book because it’s easy to read and really uses the line space. I used a Palantino for the Part, Epilogue and Title font. Not that any of that really matters. I’m a book designer, I can’t help it, so sue me.

Putting the Monster back together. Snout to Tail.

I wanted to remain consistent and organized while still having the book line up (you can imagine that some things happen in Osondrous’ story that can’t happen until other things happen in Karalay’s story etc.). At first I started Part 2 WAY too early and that helped me absolutely determine how the book was going to go. It would be Karalay, Osondrous/Constance, Jezaline and then all three of them one more time. So two parts from each of their stories for every part of the book.

The worst moment was when I realized I hadn’t been using enough of Osondrous’ story and well before she became queen Karalay was responding to the fact that she had become queen (a very vital happening in my book). So I had to take from Osondrou’s story in part four and add it in to part three and take from part three and add that in to part two to get her story to line up properly again. I knew people would be reading more from Osondrous’ part but, because I had to go back and shift her story around, I’m left anxious and worried on how the whole thing is going to read.

In the last rewrite of my book I broke entirely out of any system I had and just jumped between the girls as I saw fit. I like this way better. It feels stronger, I just hope it actually is.

So, happy new year to me!!

I am continuing in the last read through of my beast put all back together again. It is 330 eight and half by eleven pages and 181,000 words. At first I was down that it was still that high in word count but I just did the numbers and I ended up cutting over 55,000 words from the book! That’s a NaNoWriMo! So I am excited and feel good about the work I’ve done and about my monster. I have already read through the first ten pages and cut some and edited some. It read just fine and I can’t wait to get it printed in lulu and given to my aunt, my mom and my boyfriend.

Doubt

I’m terrified. I know that you can’t allow fear of failing to stop you from trying. But what if they don’t like my book when they read it? This is absolutely the best I can do right now. Period. This is as good a writer as I can be and if this isn’t this great, after all of this work, I will be devastated.

Keep it in perspective, Ta!

Of course, that is what I need to do. My book might not make anybody cry or even care much but I do believe it’s a fine book and it is so close to finished. I started this thing ten years ago and I’ve never felt this good about it before. I am truly entering the edit stage now and I will report back. I hope I will say in my next post, at least:

That it’s not too bad.

Other thoughts: I hate every word processor on the market. Hate. I have tried every program for writers in existance and none of them come close to what I actually need. I use Open Office and it is an absolutely fabulous text editor and it is free! But for putting a novel together none of them work for me. Most novel writing software forces you to save chapters separately etc. I hate that. (Yes, I’m going to be using the word hate a lot) So I’ve always ended up back in Open Office with my whole book in one massive document (like right now).

All I want, and I finally, truly, figured it out last night, is a tab system. I want down on side by the scroll bar there to be tabs that I can add that will jump me to certain parts of the book. I would like to create a tab for every part of my book so if I want to go to Part Four I just click the tab and I’m there (instead of scrolling for hours, that’s basically all I did last night scroll). I want to be able to create a tab for important moments, for all of Karalay, Osondrous and Jezaline’s parts of the story etc. Is this too much to ask??

One day I will design the perfect text editor for writers.

Well, I finally got through Karalay. Who knew? I knew I just needed one day. Just one. I can get through forty thousand words in a day. That seems to be my limit. That’s not writing forty thousand words but going through, cutting, adding and editing. I find that my limit of writing, if I have all day and a clear outline, is about seven thousand words in a day. Though I have written more. It really depends on what I’m working on and whether I’m motivated.

Like the other characters switching my writing soul to Karalay and really getting into her head and focusing on her took time. The switch between characters is not a quick thing for me. This is something I have found excessively frustrating. It means the first twenty thousand words can take me three weeks while the last three quarters of her part of the book takes me three days. I hope this is something I can really work on and improve about me but I’m not sure if that’s possible.

Karalay’s epic end.

The reason I chose to do Jezaline first was because she was the main character I had that was not the start nor the end of the main story of my book. I did her first because she was shorter and less important. Than I did Osondrous because she was absolutely my beginning and then I worked on Karalay because she was absolutely my end. The last nearly half of her story was the epic fight that concluded my novel. Who will win? Who will die? And it was damn fun when I finally reached that part of her story and got myself into it.

Strange things.

It’s funny what I remembered of my book and how it was written and what it actually was. It turned out to be two completely different things. Where I thought I was going to have a lot to cut from Karalay’s story, because of just plain stupid excessive writing, turned out not to be the case at all. Once I deleted Karalay’s first twenty thousand words (because earlier this year I wrote a new beginning for the whole novel) she became a trimmed down little chick with less words devoted to her than either of the other two characters. It surprised me and disappointed me. Where I knew I had a lot to add and re-write to give Jezaline justice I was not prepared for that with Karalay. Though Osondrous took me a long time most of her story was just cutting and I expected the same with Karalay. It’s just not the case. I have quite a bit to add and change now that I’ve gone through her once.

So the real editing begins.

I’ve begun Karalay’s line-by-line edit and addition. It’s the last real hurdle of my book and I am both apprehensive, excited and, most importantly, I feel really well prepared. Well prepared for me means I am thinking about her, I am motivated and I have twelve sticky notes stuck to my monitor of every thing I must add to her story to give it more depth and clarity. My most important addition will be the laying on of fear for her life and, hopefully, the readers. Where there should be this slow sickly building of tension there just isn’t yet quite enough mentioned in the beginning of the book to make my readers aware that they should be anxious. I hope I am capable of adding tension. We’ll see.

The best boyfriend in the world.

Yup, that’s my guy. We’ve been together for over six years now and I simply have the most wonderful boyfriend on the planet.

Why?

He got me the most thoughtful, useful gift I could have ever asked for. It is a beautiful, tiny laptop. In the past I have had massive laptops that I’ve been damn near embarrassed to take into public and have almost never used them on planes.

Not Anymore.

Now I have the perfect writing machine. I have been working on my book on the couch, in bed, at my desk, anywhere I want. It even has a seven hour battery life, something I have never even dreamed of before this. It’s beautiful, it’s an Acer and it is all mine.

No More Excuses.

Not that I had any before but now I am constantly tempted when I go to bed. There is my little laptop beside me and I want to write and now it is so easy.

Back North.

I made the thousand mile trip back north and am spending the next couple of months trying to make some money so we can truly finish our southern home and get it sold. My new years resolution will be entirely for me. Finish my book.

How much farther do I have to go?

I must line edit Karalay’s story. On a good, motivated day I could have that done in less than twenty four hours. But for now, I am enjoying some R&R and Christmas with my wonderful mom. We will be playing Guitar Hero, beating the new Mario that she got me for Christmas and finishing the hardest puzzles Walmart sold. After Karalay’s line-edit I will be attacking the daunting task of putting my book back together. I’m terrified or, as my boyfriend would say because my name is Tarah, I’m just “fied”.

So, cross your fingers for me.

Next week, when I report back, it is going to be to say that I have finished Karalay and have begun putting the beast back together, from nose to snout. The biggest thing I’m worried about is getting the cut offs between characters just right. I want people to be left hanging at the end of each of my girls parts. So, I’m afraid it’s going to be a very big task. On the other hand, it is my book and I do know it by heart. Maybe it won’t be so bad. Wish me luck.

I am struggling through Karalay’s portion of Embraced by Darkness now. Stuggling? Well, actually that’s not accurate, I haven’t worked on it for a few days now and I feel damn bad about it

We drove a thousand miles north two weeks ago and stayed a week where I belong. It was just impossible to work while I was there. All I wanted was R&R after the drive and everything. I also had several very early and very far away meetings for jobs to get out of the way. Not to mention personal things like doctors apointments and hair cuts. Being away from home so much is so inconveniant. I end up with so damn much to do while I’m there its just crazy. Not to mention people to see. I have a lot of family that I don’t get to see very much (just like everybody else it seems) so I ended up with four thanksgivings to go to. So after you add all of that up and squeeze it into ten days and give me some down time on the floor snuggling with my dogs. Well, it just doesn’t leave much time for writing.

We finally got our butts back here and I’m already losing time so fast I’m panicking. Two days ago this was my to do list before I can leave:

Add in over a hundred products for mjsportandoutdoor.com (a website I’m doing)

Finish a web design for Computer Services of Durant

Finish a book I’m designing for Marsha C. Porter

Finish Candace Simar’s new website (and add in email lists)

Finsh the newsletter the LOMPlighter for mnpoets

Finish figuring out the shipping problems for another site I’m doing neitherwolfnordog.com

Finish and get working a new Electronic Submission form for the JWB for The Talking Stick

Start and finish the church website including getting their logo scanned in and finished.

Finish three very important xmas presents, Joseph is the only one that knows how to do it!!

On top of all of that there is work we MUST finish on the house before I leave and that list is: Finish epoxying and fixing the tub/shower upstairs and spray finish it. Put linoleum down in the bathroom and closet upstairs. Install upstairs bathroom vanity and finish it. Install furnace upstairs. Take all four doors back that are the wrong size and install the new ones (so help us God).

To be able to take those doors back we have to pick up Joseph’s brother’s truck which is almost an hour drive away. So we’re going to kill two birds with one stone tonight and go to the Xmas party for Computer Services of Durant and get his brother’s truck on the way back.

FINISH MY BOOK!!

There are other things on that list but I hate listing them as “things to do” like going out with Joseph one more time before I go and going to his family’s x-mas party next Saturday. And Joseph and I are going to have our own little xmas together before I go. I hope I can bake a ham and maybe scalloped potatoes sometime this week and we’ll exchange gifts. Not to mention we are going out one night too, hopefully to Red Lobster

So, that’s my life. Everything just listed above and there’s more (I’m certain I forgot something) that must get done before I leave on the 21st. That is eight days away. I’m freaking out a little and starting to feel panicked. I am a stubborn wench when it comes to goals. If they kill me or not I do reach them when I need to.

What sucks the worst is that I only need one day to finish Karalay’s portion of my book. ONE DAY!

I just don’t think I’m going to get it before I go. Right after I post this I have hurry up stairs and get the tub/show unit upstairs sanded down. And I’m crossing my fingers that I won’t have to epoxy it again before we spray it. Tomorrow morning we’re taking the doors back, getting the paint for the tub, picking up a few things to finish those xmas presents I mentioned up there, getting the right-sized doors, picking up the linoleum and glue that we need (crossing fingers that they even HAVE a remnant big enough for what we need to do the closet and the bathroom with).

On top of all of that Joseph’s father went in for surgery this week and Joseph ended up losing several days of work. Joseph’s dad is okay though, thank God. Joseph will now need to make up all of that work this week (because we simply can’t do without those three days of money) So he’ll be working at his computer desperately all week except when I drag him away for xmas with me, xmas with his mother, Red Lobster with me and to lay linoleum and install doors.

There is just not enough time in the day

I feel exhausted and pathetic. Balancing working on this damn house and finally get the renovations done (once I finish everything on the list up there we can install carpet throughout the house, that means DAMN CLOSE TO FINISHED AND SOLD!!). And trying to get my own personal work done for our business is becoming daunting. We’ve been trying to finish this house in Oklahoma for three years now and I’ll be damned if it takes much more of my time. I belong in Minnesota, not in Oklahoma under any circumstances. This house has taken a good two years longer than we thought it would and I thought I was coming down here this last time to finally fucking finish it. But, that’s not how our money situation is turning out. And Joseph, as much as I love him, does very little to no work on the house when I’m not here. The entire project of getting this house done is entirely on me. And, the truth is, I’d rather die that have to be in this shitty state any longer. (For those of you that like Oklahom, well, good fuck for you.) So, among everything on that list, I must get those house things done because I feel certain they will not be done if I don’t get them done and I’ll come back in three months and find everything just waited for me.

I’m going north on the 21st to stay through to March in and attempt to make some serious money. I have an $8,000 opportunity in Fargo up north that I absolutely cannot say no to. It is medical testing, so just call me “testee” and I will need to drive an hour and a half to Fargo every day for two and a half months. But, it’s $8,000 and we desperately need the money. So I’m going to do it.

And in the end, all I wanna do is finish my book.

I want to go back to Karalay, I have only 30,000 words left for her and that’s peanuts to what I have been doing. I just want to settle in for day and get it done, finally. But I’m afraid I would have to sacrifice something I’m doing professionally to do something for myself and that’s just not in the cards. I’m terrified I’m going to lose so much of the roll I’ve had going on this monster of mine. But, I guess we do what we have to. No matter what.

In writers groups across the country November has become synonomous with NANOWRIMO. That is (to those of you who don’t know): National Novel Writing Month. From the website you can get this description of what exactly it means to be a part of NANOWRIMO:

>>National Novel Writing Month is a fun, seat-of-your-pants approach to novel writing. Participants begin writing November 1. The goal is to write a 175-page (50,000-word) novel by midnight, November 30. Valuing enthusiasm and perseverance over painstaking craft, NaNoWriMo is a novel-writing program for everyone who has thought fleetingly about writing a novel but has been scared away by the time and effort involved. Because of the limited writing window, the ONLY thing that matters in NaNoWriMo is output. It’s all about quantity, not quality. The kamikaze approach forces you to lower your expectations, take risks, and write on the fly.<<

(From the center news section of my writers’ group’s website you can read the status reports and info of all ten of our members who are trying to complete NANOWRIMO.)

I don’t really get it.

Obviously you’re probably wondering what somebody like me would think of something like NANOWRIMO. I think it’s absolutely wonderful for the people that participate. And for the writers that finish. I think it’s a great confidence booster and I think it’s a way to find ideas and reach beyond yourself/farther into you’re own imagination than you normally would. NANOWRIMO is a cool motivational tool.

However, I do not think it is real novel writing. Am I being a snively little brat? You’re damn right. The very idea that someone would call what they’re accomplishing in four weeks the exact same name of what I’ve been working on for ten years is damned offensive. I want to throw a fit and I can’t help it. I smile stonily, coldly, politely and I have never said a bad word about NANOWRIMO. But I can’t help but feel as though my work (and the years of extensive work made by thousands of novelists across the world) is belittled every year in November.

My writing averages out to 2 thousand words an hour. I could write 50,000 words in 25 hours. Where in the hell did they pull 50,000 out of? Most publishing companies won’t accept a 50,000 word “novel” because it’s too short.  I think it should be doubled. 100,000 word book would actually give people something to work with at the end. Something they can edit and cut from. Something they can shape. Right now, ending on 50,000 words just means if they want a full length book then they’re going to have to keep adding even after they “finished” NANOWRIMO.

“But that’s not what NANOWRIMO is about Tarah!” Okay, I’ll bite. I am fully aware this is a motivational tool to help bring out the stories in the people attempting it. It is also a confidence booster for those that manage to finish. It is not about having a book ready to publish after one month it’s about having the confidence to try to have a book ready SOMEDAY.  Because, it has been proven, most writers never start because they’re intimidated by the idea of a novel. NANOWRIMO changes all of that. Okay, but I still think that if National Novel Writing Month is not about finishing a full length novel in a month than they’ve got some serious false advertising going on!

Yeah, and I still don’t get it

Yup, I don’t. I just don’t. I’ve literally had mentors and friends of mine suggest I do NANOWRIMO to help “put away” my internal editor and learn “to just write”. Hmm. I’ve never told them that I’ve cut and added 50,000 words in less than a week on average for years working on my monster. But I don’t say these things because most writers seem to think that 50,000 is a big number. I don’t. And writers like me who would say something of how many words I work with generally are thought of as show-offs and liars and are usually not liked. So, no, I haven’t said anything outloud.

If I actually devoted myself to 50,000 words what I would end up with is a book just as far from finished as my rewrite is right now. I would do it in less than week and I would have another big chunk of writing that needs days and days of my utmost editting attention. The only thing I will accept from the NANOWRIMO idea is to work on my book like my life depends on it. Like I have an eight week deadline that will send me straight to hell if I don’t have a finished Embraced by Darkness. This has helped me keep working, keep focused and stay determined no matter what. Despite the doubt and the hesitation and my own cautiousness. Getting stuck somewhere in the book where I may be, unmoving, not progressing, for several weeks, is not an option. And it has been with this attitude that I started this blog. I have found this new attitude extremely helpful in keeping me focused, one-minded, attacking my book.

As of right now I have spent four days without looking at Embraced by Darkness. It is the longest I have spent away from it in six weeks. I have deleted over 30,000 words from the book (roughly averaging to every thousand words that I end up deleting have been added and deleted about three times throughout the process. So when I say 30,000 I actually mean I have been fiddling around with 90,000 words). Does all of that sound like an astronomical amount? I’ve never professed these number to any person, especially my writers’ group. I’m afraid they’ll think I’m showing off or they simply won’t believe me. But this is my blog and I am determined to be as honest and as tedious with my “book-keeping” as possible. Regardless if anyone ever reads this. This blog is about me.

I have finished going through, adding, deleting and re-writing two thirds of the book and finished line-editing one third of the book. Thinking of it like this I literally feel my heart sore. Two thirds done… How bout that? I have been trying to get back to my book the past two days because I finished Osondrous’ story and need to go back through it and line-edit it and I’ve had some trouble getting motivated. But now I see, what am I waiting for? I’m almost done!

As I have been trying to go back to my book I have felt Embraced by Darkness coming back to me. It always does. Not matter how long it’s been or how much of a break my mind and spirit needed from writing. My books have always come back to sit at my subconscious and touch in to my everyday thoughts and actions. And when this happens, I start to get excited and I start to reach for it. When we meet is when I am at my most productive and my next post I am determined will say “I finished line-editing Osondrous and I have begun Karalay’s story. The last story of Embraced by Darkness.”

Then what?

That’s too scary to contemplate. Once I’ve finished Embraced by Darkness and my years and years of work is as done as it can be. Than we all know what comes next. If I have the balls and the funds to send my monster out I am guaranteed a mountain of rejection letters and wasted money that I don’t have to throw away.

Doubt.

But I am going to finish Embraced by Darkness anyway and when it’s done I’m going to go to my next book; The Death of Eliana. And then my next book and then my next. They all sit at my subconscious and touch in to my everyday thoughts and actions. I will work on a book the rest of my life, I know this now. Whether I am ever a published novelist. This is what I’m going to be doing.

Well, I got through it. Not with the ambition and excitement and startling hope I had at the end of Jezaline. But I’m satisfied. Osondrous and Constace’s stories ended smoothly enough to make me happy. That was something I was really worried about. If you read my last post you know that I was really apprehensive with just ten pages left that I felt like I had rushed some of it. But I re-worked it. Added a little and I think it smoothed out pretty well.

Osondrous’ story is the guts of my book. She was truly my start and it was her actions that started the chain reaction that affected the entire story and all of my other characters. So I am more apprehensive and a lot more concerned about getting this just right. I don’t know if I did that. But I know I did the best I could. But I am filled with doubt that maybe my best is just not good enough.

I’ve connected Jezaline’s story now more than ever with Osondrous and Constance’s part of the book. I hope that this will make my book easier to understand. I did get the un-worked book read by friends and the biggest complaint was just confusion. Like, “What the hell is going on?” and I’m crossing my fingers that these more obvious connections that I’ve added now will clear everything up.

When I finished Jezaline’s portion of the book I was raring to go and read through it and line edited it right away. I’m exhausted with Osondrous’ portion and I don’t know if I will do it. Though I feel I should. I feel obligated. I’m going to think about it.

Osondrous started at around 92,000 words and at this moment it is at 74,816. I was hoping to cut at least twenty thousand but I don’t know if there is more that I can cut. When I go through it again, I am certainly going to try to cut more.

This is the last words of Osondrous’ portion. I hope you appreciate it and like it. I ended her as softly as I could.

EXCERPT FROM EMBRACED BY DARKNESS: OSONDROUS’ STORY

Copyright Tarah L. Wolff All Rights Reserved.

She hugged herself against the breeze, acknowledged no one. She got to her chamber and collapsed down before the fire. She held her shaking hands, stared at the little note again. Karalay’s sure and true hand writing. Had Karalay known what lay before her when she wrote it? Did Karalay know she would become queen with so little consideration?
“Forgive me.” Osondrous whispered, “Karalay, forgive me.”
Osondrous held the note to her chest, closed her eyes. She swore she would make it up to Karalay. To everyone. She threw the parchment into the fire and watched it burn. Shook her head, got herself up to her knees. She drew Mlore from her hip, laid the sword down in its place before the fire. Bowed to it.
Osondrous laid down on the stone floor, felt her aching muscles give to the feeling. She stretched her arms above her head, took off her shirt, her vest. Her clothes down to the wraps around her breasts, her many bandages. Wanted to rip them off, let her body be free to breathe. Her foot ached horrifically, removing her boots was agony. She laid, stared into the fire. Disappointed she could not feel the stone on every bare part of her. Disappointed she could not feel health. Disappointed she could not feel confidence. Scared that Karalay would return, knowing how she had failed.
Eikian stepped into the chamber. Curled his hooves beneath him before the fire, laid his sword down beside Mlore.
She rose to her knees beside him, hands on her thighs.
“I doomed Karalay the day I became queen. I doomed Diggamara.” Eikian stared at their touching swords.
“I gave Grim his chance to take the last crystal.” Osondrous never looked at him.
“Why did you let Tarick go?” Eikian did not look at her.
“He gave up his life to be with her, his gift, to die and go to her. And he did not die. Against all odds, he did not die. He asked me to let him go so he could try and save her.”
The fire burned quietly. Osondrous stared into it, her eyes filled.
“When you find someone who loves you, there is no greater gift and nothing more worth giving up everything for.”
Eikian kept his eyes down.
She looked at him. “Eikian?”
He faced her. She rose to her knees, slipped against his hard body. Him on his belly and her on her knees they were at eye level. She pressed her face against the skin beneath his ear, in his hot neck. Her tongue slipped along his collar bone, she kissed him with her mouth open.
She said, “I will be given no greater gift than you.”
He shushed her with his mouth, with his enormous strength. And she embraced, for the first time, her life truly without Telenay. Her life without the field that was who she had thought she was. In his arms, in that moment, she was a failed queen. A failure as she had never been a failure.
But Eikian held her, kissed her, moved his fingers down her body like she was not a failure but as though she were perfect. Pretty. Beautiful. A woman as she had never been a woman. He touched her as only a warlord could. Without fear or reservation. With respect but not reverence. As equals.
And she met him entirely for the first time. Laying away all of her reservations that had always stopped her. He unwrapped her breasts and cupped her taught skin. Wrapped his lips around her pink nipples.
“Be mine entirely.” His hot breath sent a scatter of bumps down her pricked skin.
“Yes.” She said.
In the darkness the fire cast their silhouettes as a single shadow. An embrace of pure darkness. Death bringer meeting death bringer. They gave in to the inevitably of their lives together.

Well, I did get through it. If you read my last post I had come to a bit of a halt when I reached Constance in the midst of Osondrous’ story. I got so comfortable working on one at a time. That was why I split my book up in the beginning. Each story of my three main characters were standing on their own.

I got spoiled.

I finished Jezaline’s story adding things I had never considered before. It all came together in a way that it never could have without my full focused attention. I can’t believe I never did this before.

Every time I tried attacking this novel before it was one page at a time. Start to end. Moving back and forth between the characters as I went. And I have found out that I am not super woman. Some writers could absolutely do that: go back and forth without forgetting anything, without losing the acceleration and the attitude of the previous character.

I am not capable of that.

I know this now. I work much better with one focused task. Last week it was Jezaline, start to finish and I am elated to say that her story now has a richness that it never did before. Her childhood, her history her entire life became an element when before she was so one dimensional. She has a real ending now. Not just for the story but for her emotionally too.

Telling the emotional story.

I am becoming more and more aware as I go of the two separate stories that make up every book I have ever read. The emotional story and the physical story. I think I have mentioned this before in recent posts. But I’m going to spend some time now to elaborate on what it means to me, as a writer, right now.

I have struggled consistently with what I call my “A.D.D” I am the worst kind of reader, I am bored, I am skipping and scanning because I can’t stand needless diddling. Until a writer can prove to me that that shit they just wrote about the history of that tree matters to the story at all, I am not going to read it no matter how great that description might be.

I am obviously commercial fiction through and through. That I have never denied. It’s no wonder that my favourite book this year was written by Stephen King (It) and the book I’m reading (for the second time) right now (Lisey’s Story) was also written by Stephen King.

I don’t just read Stephen King because he appeals to my reader but also because he equally appeals to my writer. I am absolutely in awe at his genius. I have never read a writer who took “omit needless words” to such an exceptional level. If I could worship him as a God, I would, but I don’t think he’d give me the time of day and I wouldn’t blame him.

In the past, because of the reader in me, I was very very bad at just writing the physical story and letting the emotion story be nonexistent. My worst habit as a writer was that, in the very early beginning, I took “Do not tell. Show.” to the literal level.

Don’t do that.

“Don’t tell. Show.” does not mean to omit your narrator. What “Don’t tell. Show.” means is to give reason for the emotions of your characters. For the telling of the emotional/past story behind the physical story. You must link your physical to your emotional. Instead of just having her sad one day and a telling description of her past give her a link that makes her sad that reminds her of her past by planting something important in the physical. Why is she outside? Why don’t you link that. Don’t have her outside just wandering around for no apparent reason cause she likes trees for no apparent reason. Maybe she’s outside because she was driven there by her haunted past. Maybe trees have always been a place she can run because she climbed in the oaks behind the barn at the farm she grew up on. Think about it. Omit needless everything.

It isn’t just about sentence structure, about “the road to hell is paved in adverbs” this goes all the way down to the very bones of your story. If Stephen King can’t find an important reason for that very cloud to be in the book, it’s just not there. If that beautiful day has no relevance, than it shouldn’t be there.

And you say “But I do shit all of the time that has no apparent meaning!!” Yeah, and how long would you want to read about your life?

I tell myself again and again. I will not waste my readers’ time on insignificant shit. No matter how well it’s described.

Ten pages to go.

And that is it. Only ten more pages to go of 142. I have now cut Osondrous’ and Constance’s part of the book down from 92,567 words to 73,881. I am happy but a little apprehensive. I am disappointed in the place I am working on right now. It seems I rushed their ending a bit. I did not keep up their rhythm like I thought I had through the end. In fact I really reverted. I skipped whole days and recalled important events in scanty dialogue. I don’t really want to but I’m afraid I may have to add a bit more to their story though I was really hoping to hit a full twenty thousand words cut.

But I did break through the problems I was having. I did manage to find the heart of Constance. And even Osondrous seems to have taken on more layers. I have made her with more flaws now. They are both more realistic, I think. I still have to add though and I am apprehensive about it. I fear my doubt it showing again.

There will always be hard days. I went through the worst when I got through the re-write of my monster last time. But writing is work. Writing is practice. Writing is a talent. Writing is a desire. Writing is a process. All of those things mean to me tonight is that sometimes not all of them show up. No matter how late or early, how much time I’ve spent away from the beast; sometimes I’m lacking process. Practice. Work. Desire. Or, most importantly, I feel tonight like I am lacking talent. Doubt. But it isn’t actually doubt tonight. It’s plain and simple fact. I am working on my Osondrous piece of the story. And it is hard. Writing through Osondrous was the easy one. Not what I expected but now it does all make sense.

Osondrous was flowing from me. This is my warlord. This is my character who is more like me than any of the others. I can identify with Osondrous and in a thousand ways I have been writing her story my entire life. It was when Constance came into play when I find myself slipping.

When I had written so much for Osondrous, gone through so many words one night I was so tired. And I wanted to share with you the last sentence I wrote, then pressed save and finally quit. And when I opened the document the next day this was it:

As Osondrous entered it was filled with all many of peoples.

lol. Sometimes we do have to laugh at ourselves. Our own ridiculous persistence. That was only three days ago. Osondrous is now tucked into her bed and I am diving into Constance. I have come to a halt. I can force words. I’ve been an author a long time. I am experienced enough now I know how to write so regardless. No matter what. I can write. But I did not expect this of Constance.

Constance is an innocent in my book. Bad things happen to her. She is naive, beautiful and sickeningly young. And she is very happy. She has a suitor and it is with him that I am adding more to her story. Aerick is her man. Her man whose trying so hard for her. This is young love though Aerick is nothing like Constance. He is a soldier,  a good solider, and there is nothing naive about him.

But that doesn’t matter. This is Constance’s story.

I am having a hard time slipping into her. I understand her needs and her wants. I know her past. But I don’t feel her. Her words are difficult. Her descriptions are like pulling teeth. I find myself awkward and at a loss.

This is obviously not what I wanted in this last effort into my monster. I fear my words are not flowing no matter what. If I’m not inspired, if I don’t know this character, I’m fucking positive, I won’t be able to give her clearly to a reader.

The truth is that Constance is shallow. She has no experience. No depth. She has so little history it’s sad. I can’t tell you how many times I refrain from typing, “she giggled” for the umpteenth time. I don’t want people to hear me tell them she’s giggling I want them to be giggling too. I want my readers to want to be squirming with glee because we were all there once. Weren’t we?

And I think this is where my child hood is showing. No, I can’t ever remember being like her. Bad days. Things I won’t talk about here. But I think we’ve all faced the fact that no matter how our writing should not be a part of us. It is us. Aunts call. Mom’s need us. Boyfriends urge us to come back to bed. Every moment of my life alters my writing. I have trouble writing Constance because I was never a Constance. In fact I’m afraid my descriptions of Constance will come off as mockery. And Constance deserves better.

So, here’s to having a bad writing day. Even though it was beautiful here. We got a fantastic thing done in our lives that makes everything shine. Regardless. This is a bad writing day.

I hope tomorrow, after I’ve worked on it in my sleep. After I work on it while I tape and bed the drywall upstairs and while I make dinner and we get groceries at the little store down the street. I will have found a heart for her. Where I can write unflinchingly and without judgment. Where I can honestly say not only do I understand her but that I also may have been her once, at least in my wildest dreams.

So I’m letting him call me to bed tonight. I’m allowing myself to be dragged away because I am accomplishing nothing here right now. Tomorrow will be better. It has to be. I have to believe that I am a good writer. I am an accomplished writer. Damn it, I can write Constance, and tomorrow I will.

I started at 1:30 this afternoon and added ten thousand words by 6:30 this evening. I took a break for dinner. Started writing again at 9:00 and now I am writing this post to say I got through Jezaline’s story at 5:03 this morning.  That is twelve hours of writing; I’m numb from the chin up. I edited and cut over twenty thousand words and added over ten thousand. I wish I were a faster writer, I am a very fast typist but my thinker only moved so quickly. I want to exclaim, “C’mon I’m making this up as I go along!” This is a good day but at the end of all of my writing marathons I am plagued by two things, Elation and Doubt.

A great large part of me thinks, “I did good” The rest of me thinks, “We’ve been here before. It’ll be shit like everything else and you know it.” I went through three sex scenes tonight, added one, cut down two to being what I hope even my mother would consider tasteful. We’ll see about that one I guess.

The more reading that I do the more I realize that the very best fiction writers actually are telling two stories at once. The actual physical story (she goes here than there and then gets shot) and then the emotional story (she cries when she gets there, she goes here to salvage her pride and then she is glad when she gets shot). The key is to never forget the emotional story. This is my biggest flaw as a commercial fiction writer. I am a terrible emotional story teller. And on a night like tonight, numb from the chin up, I know I missed the emotional impact of Jezaline’s last ten thousand words (at least). But I hope, “crosses fingers” that maybe I have something to ADD to the next run through it. I don’t know, now that I’ve finally got through it, if I’m going to go back through, start to finish, one more time while it’s still fresh or if I will move on to the next main character’s story in my novel. This is a hard choice but I feel myself leaning to staying here, while it’s fresh, and going back through the writing I did tonight. Maybe I’ll be surprised, maybe some of it I’ll even like.

I am leaving you with my favorite scene that I have added to Jezaline’s story. Take note this has NOT been edited. This is first draft directly off the press. There is sex and it is graphic so be warned:

EXCERPT FROM EMBRACED BY DARKNESS: JEZALINE’S STORY

Copyright Tarah L. Wolff All Rights Reserved.

By the time he reaches the bed his hands are quivering. He has not eaten a human in over a decade and then that had been a very ugly, very old man; nothing worthy of raping. Not that he turned his nose up to men it had just been so long since he had tasted a woman.
He moved up and on to the bed like water running up stones. She whimpers and Waltruk grabs himself, gasps and barely keeps himself from climaxing. He laughs into the empty darkness of his chamber as she lays beneath him, a white swath of fabric, silk, against black hides.
Jezaline grips the blanket in her fists, he turns her over and she stares into his face. His eyes are black beacons beneath, long fine brows. The room fills with the desert sun and the king before her changes into the man made of fire from her past.
And Waltruk is struck still, his own past suddenly called upon. A past centuries older than Jezaline’s but as fresh in his heart as she is beneath his fingers.
She rises up to him, feeling the blessed desert heat again, lost in the warmth. The fire in her past that was once her entire life, the sand, the sun. Jezaline reaches out, tries to touch the red man’s face and the illusion evaporates. She tries to say Red man, but nothing comes out of her swollen throat. Before her is the Vamepire king but so confused, for an instant, she is unable to feel the terror that he paralyzed her moments before.
Her hand on his cheek. The memory of the molten end of her child hood fades and his cheek is very cold. The ache in her has grown into a culvert across her chest. The forgotten, ignored emptiness that red man had left. And no matter the men she had had in her life, inside of her, filling her up, they never touched the ache.
He whispers, “Red lady.” His eyes clear, he blinks and stares.
He said, “Who are you?”
“Jezaline. Who are you?”
“I am Waltruk, king of the Vamepire. You are the red…?”
She shook her head, finds herself unable to move away. He is tall, strong chested, clothed in leathers and furs. There is too little light. He is nothing else but a figment in the darkness. Her terror returns slowly, as though she is still trying to wake from a nightmare.
He reached for her and she pulls back to try and stop it. But the Vamepire king clasps his fingers around her wrist.
“How do you know of the red lady?”
She said, “No lady, a red man in my past.”
His cold fingers lay a line down her cheek and she winces but is unable to pull away again. The ache in her is wide, deep and shockingly empty.
He grabs her head, pulls her face to him, “What do you know!”
“I don’t know who they are!”
“This thing, this woman, has controlled me for three centuries. Now fucking tell me what you know.”
Jezaline got it out, in sputters and gasps, her story, without editing. Too terrified to not tell this creature every last detail. With his fingers digging in to the back of her head she recounted the red man. How fear had turned to need.
“I was desperate for him. What was my getting raped… I demanded him to enter… me.”
Her voice fell to a whisper and she finally struggled out of his grip, fell to her knees and held her face.
“What did he do to you?”
“I am a Ward.”
Waltruck’s eyes widened, “A Ward of high power. What are you doing here.”
She said nothing, having dissolved into a soft crying. His hand swept down her back and she winced away.
“Do you feel it?”
“What?”
“The empty hole inside of you?”
She pressed her hands to the place between her breasts and her belly.
She whispered, “Yes.”
“You were never able to fill it?”
She shook her head, “Never.”
Waltruk sunk down to his knees on the bed before her, put his head in his hands. His hair was jet black, it lay in tatters down his cheeks.
“If I had known,” he said, than shook his head, “I couldn’t have stopped myself.”
“What?” She looked up His skin was smooth as glass but it did not shine in the light. His fingers were long and ended in sharp, black hooks that grew in severity down his hand until the claws curved long and blackest at his thumbs. She rubbed the back of her head.
He said, “I am king because of her, but, if I had known what this would feel like. I would have tried to stop.”
She shook her head, “I couldn’t have stopped… What is all of this?”
“Something changed our paths.”
“Are there others?”
“Not that I’ve known.”
He looked into her face and she stared into his.
“I think it’s Grim.”
She frowned, “No, he doesn’t exist.”
“Grim is on the move right now… why are you in the Krept, Jezaline?”
She felt herself standing on the blade of a knife. She had no idea what this thing wanted of her. What this king wanted her to do or say or what she could do for him. But there was something guiding her. Something dark, something empty. As the moments passed between them, where she could smell his body and his breath, where her own body reacted to the presence of his, she felt herself longing to touch him. She was revolted by herself, appalled but without control. She looked his jaw and face, down his lean neck and strong shoulders. His clawed hands looked powerful and she could almost feel on her again, feel him against her. Jezaline swallowed hard, forced herself to look away.
“Talk to me now.”
“Or you will kill me?” she talked to the candle across the bed, the little flame that did not flicker. The stillness of the room made it feel like a tomb.
“What are you doing in the Krept?”
“The prophet Tarick asked for me, said that if I did not come that I would die. I was looking for the Draegoone. Not the Vamepire.”
The sound of Tarick’s name sent a jolt through Waltruk. He climbed off the bed and began to pace. His body faded in and out of darkness, the wings on his back jutted out of his clothes and looked impossible, like they were something he must have put on that morning.
Jezaline sat cross legged with her face in her hands, she fought the urge to curl into herself. She hated herself viciously no matter how she closed her eyes or the tears threatened her throat, she wished a little bit that the king of the Vamepire would come back to bed.
She screamed, “Are you going to kill me?” It erupted out of her ravaged throat like an animal tearing free.
He stopped before her and stood in the darkness, alone but not alone, as though the darkness was a part of who he was.
He said, “I think killing you would be very stupid.”
She was beyond tears now, Jezaline’s heart was pounding, she shook her head, asking the question without speaking.
“Your destiny was changed by a prophet, now another prophet is trying to interfere. That much I can deduct… if I killed you now. Fuck all, I don’t think it would be handled happily by fate. You are important somehow.”
“What do you know for certain.”
“You and I Jezaline, never should have met. This is another prophet that got you here. I know of Tarick, he is the second youngest brother of Draegoone royalty.”
He hissed it out in a long fluid jolt of pure despise. She watched him pace without speaking, sensing he would continue. He pressed his fists into his temples and his face contorted with anger.
“We are at war with those cold-blooded things. I will kill them all, that was not changed by the red lady, that I will do before I die.”
She said, “What will you do with me?”
“I want to drink you and then fuck your corpse for three days!”
Jezaline knew that that was not going to happen now. Away from him, thinking about the ache and the red man, she made no effort to make sense of any of it. If Waltruk was right, which she seriously believed he probably was, it all still left her here, in the highest room of the tallest Vamepire tower. Surrounded by creatures she knew to be dark, wicked and unmerciful. But there was clear intelligence in his eyes, it was there in Blondie’s eyes too. These were not stupid brutes as she had been made to believe and that scared her more deeply than anything she had ever known. These were conniving, brilliant creatures.
He came at her in three long strides, evolving out of the dark. His fingers moved up her face, pushed her to the bed. His weight bowed it beside her and he stretched out his body beside her, touching her throat, her collar bone and lips. His hot breath begged for her. She heard the grinding of his teeth in her ear.
Jezaline squeezed her eyes shut. Her entire body was rigid and trembling.
She was overcome by two polar opposites. The desperate, primal need to throw him off of her, run until she was overcome and die by hysteria; her heart finally bursting in terror. And the other to pull him against her. Embrace the darkness that was this king. Hold him between her legs, pull her skirt up so he could enter that hot place that was the ache the red man had left in her. Give this king the opportunity to fill it as no man had ever been able to.
He pressed his face beneath her breasts and his hot breath steamed her skin through her dress.
He whispered, “Right here.”
“Yes, right there.”
“it has not yet engulfed you in the void. But it will someday.”
“Like you.”
He sighed and she felt his head relax on her body. The weight of his hands rested, one on her chest, one on her thigh. She stared up at the ceiling, though the darkness made it impossible for her to see anything.
“Prove something!” She cried out and her voice carried up and up until it was gone. “Anything, end this or something. Don’t let me just be here in the dark. How has it engulfed you? How much does it hurt?”
His fingers slipped up beneath her and she felt them untying the back of her dress. She could not see his face.
His hands slipped the dress off of her shoulders and she murmured in need and in absolute abhorrent. His claws curled over the neck of her dress and with his face beside hers he pulled it down off of her breasts. Than down, revealing her ribs, her belly, her hips and then the place that made her a woman. The dress hit the floor. She was naked before him, her breasts leaning back in their weight, her nipples dark perfections in the light. Waltruk could see in the dark and she lay the shadow of him. He ran his fingers so lightly across her nipples. They grew hard.
Waltruk had never had another creature touch him in want. When her hands raised he waited for her to struggle, to hit him, to scream. Her fingers landed against the side of his throat, slipped under the collar of his shirt, pressed against his hard shoulder.
She gasped, shocked that his body was putting off heat. Her heart beat doubled and she bit her lip to keep from moaning. She rose before him, found laces with her fingers and began to tear his clothes from his body.
Having never known this Waltruk froze. Jezaline was unstoppable the ache filled her entire mind as it began to scream. The blood pumped through her in dangerous currents. Revulsion, fear, primal sense, it was all forgotten. Jezaline was who the red man had made her.
Her fingers splayed over his chest, worked down to the soft black hair that pointed her in the direction she wanted to go.
He almost wanted to stop her but he was taken with watching her body work, her strong back pucker and move, her breasts hang and bounce. She ripped off his belt and when Waltruk was naked she curved her fingers around his hard shaft and she gasped.
The moan was nothing he had heard before, the same sound of pain filled with a want. A desire so infinite he knew she would get exactly what she wanted, whatever it took.
Her legs parted and she lay him back, eased herself over him. His face was by the candle now and she could see his eyes. Jezaline stared, perfect lips opening. He saw her tongue and his teeth grit. The muscles down his cheeks worked. They both shook and trembled until finally, she pushed him inside of her.
She came down to him and pressed her mouth against his. She forced him to learn how to kiss her, how to press his tongue against hers. He had never kissed anything before without the intention of eating it but tasting her blood now was the farthest thing from his mind. He had never seen such beauty.
She had him, ground herself against him and he watched her be transformed by the act that he had never known existed. Watched a human woman find something in a Vamepire. This was what she wanted and she writhed. All the while, the ache in them both reached a piercing volume. They were hearing their own emptiness and the others. It grew and grew with her until they were deaf to all but it.
Jezaline threw back her head and cried out as her climax finally unleashed and it was beyond anything she had ever felt before. She succumbed entirely, fell before his chest, clawed at his body as it took her. He felt the waves around his shaft, felt the hard pleasure that took her and could not stop himself.
Waltruk roared and it was more animal the human, they grabbed each other. Jezaline embraced the darkness. Felt his wings around her arms and momentarily lost all awareness. Her eyes filled with the site of the red man.
As fast and hard as it came, it evaporated, and silence left them listening to their frantic breathing. The ache in them each was not gone, but silenced. She was holding on to him like he was a raft and she was adrift in a storm, at night, at sea. He rolled her unto her back but did not break their hold. He held himself inside of her incredible heat. Her legs clutched him to her.
Waltruk leaned back, pushed the hair off of her face and looked into her eyes.
“It is so quiet,” she whispered.