I’m actually writing this posting late Saturday night. It’s about 11 o’clock and I’m just getting home from my day on Lake Ouachita. Had a blast and I’m completely drained. I have some funny anecdotes to pass along, but I’m just too tired to do it now.

In the morning, I’ll be heading into Little Rock to the tattoo expo. My daughter and I are crossing off one of our bucket list To Do’s—getting tattoos together. Nothing big or ambitious. She’s going for an Irish Claddagh on the inside of her wrist. I want a “bracelet”. I’ll be sure to take pictures.

Let me give you a real quick recap of my week, and then I’m off to bed. Oh, just writing that makes me feel a little anxious. So I know I’m about wiped out.

I didn’t get everything done that I wanted to, but I still accomplished quite a lot.

* I completed a short story and shipped it to the editor of that collection. I’m not completely happy with the story and won’t be heartbroken if it doesn’t make the cut. I didn’t have time to let it age a bit so that I could take a second look and figure out what was missing. And I really do think something was missing. But that’s okay too. I like taking breaks from the big stuff to write something short and fast. Just to cleanse the palate.

* I finished through chapter four of a short novella for Ellora’s Cave. I really wanted to wrap it up in 12,000 words, but I’m over 13,000 now, and think I might have to add quite a bit more to get to the end of the story. Sometimes, characters don’t cooperate! You won’t mind, I’m sure. It’s a werewolf story and related to the My Immortal Knight stories through the Dark Mountain werewolves in MIK-6.

* I finished the revisions for the first Viking book, Ravished by a Viking, and sent the manuscript back to my editor.

* I received Pleasing Sir back from the editor I hired to catch all my errors and logic problems, made a final pass through it and shipped it to the guy who’s doing the formatting for Kindle. He’ll have it back to me early August.

* I wrote the synopsis for a new novella for Samhain. Another cowboy story. My editor gave it the green light.

* I quick-plotted another short story and started work on the opening scene.

* And lastly, I’ve been critiquing query letters all week for the FFnP class my sister and I are teaching.

So, yeah, I didn’t get to everything this week, but I haven’t exactly been a slacker.

This week, I have to finish the werewolf story, get deeper into the short story, and get back to the second Viking story. Come Monday, it’s time to get serious about making major pages!

Tomorrow, I’ll have pics and tall tales to share!

I’ll be on a party barge in the middle of a lake today (if all goes as planned). I will be away from my computer but will check in tonight when I get home.

So in the meantime, I have a question for you…

What age—when you turned it—was the most difficult for you to accept? On the other hand, which of your birthdays do you remember anticipating with the greatest amount of enthusiasm?

Big stakes make for big excitement.

How do you start building a rich paranormal world from scratch? Which comes first, the chicken or the egg? The external plot or the characters?

For me personally, I start with the kind of creatures I want to populate my world. Do I need vampires? Mages? Demons?

I ask myself who will be their natural enemies. For this, I might accept common lore (Hollywood or myth) to start my list.

Then I choose my hero or heroine’s particular paranormal persuasion, starting with the main protagonist of the story. Whatever he or she is, I look for the one thing they shouldn’t fall in love with. Think about a vampire who falls in love with her natural enemy, a werewolf, for opposites. A mage-priest who falls in love with a demon.

If I know my character well enough at the start of my planning/dreaming, I might choose a being that should be compatible, but use the same sorts of “human” conflicts to build their opposition. A Born vampire who won’t let herself fall in love with her “turned” lover because she’s already faced devastating personal loss. Because even an immortal lover might be killed.

Then I crawl inside their skins for a while and see the world through their eyes. What’s their every day life like? Where do they live? What do they eat? What do they need to exist? Blood? Sex? Psychic energy?

How might their lives be challenged? Their existence threatened? If they are colonists on a new world who think they’ve found Eden, what’s the worst that could happen? Is there a serpent in the forest? A dragon in a cave that preys on them at night? A Hell Mouth opening to release demons?

Paint the world you build with details of their ordinary lives as well as the extraordinary sights and experiences.

Create a Legend.

Paranormal stories, whether erotic or vanilla-flavored romances, that stand the test of time often have a legend behind the core of the external plot.

Think of Buffy and her “In every generation, there is only one…” slayer legend.
Or how about the legend of the Aztec Gold in the first Pirates of the Caribbean?

One legend was presented at the start of every episode of Buffy through the first couple of seasons, then dropped because every one knew it by then.

The other was presented throughout Pirates, a piece at a time to intrigue the audience.

Both set the stage for how the story would unfold.

I don’t think every paranormal story has to have a legend, but if it fits with the type of tale (especially any quest story or a coming-into-powers story), it can make your novel that much richer.

If you are a true plotter, you will want to nail your legend up front to make sure it resonates throughout. If you are a pantser, you may discover your legend as you write. At some point, if you will use a legend as a plot device, you will want to articulate it.

What should a legend include? An element of fated duty, a hint of some horrible apocalypse if the journey is never started, or a reward when the quest is won.

LEGEND IS NOT HISTORY. So don’t confuse the evolution of your creatures or the apocalypse that forced your aliens to flee their home world with any legend.

How do you come up with your own legend?

You can steal. Think of the “In every generation there is only one” legend and make your heroine The One who guards the portal to another dimension rather than a slayer.

Or as the events in your book begin to unfold, think about what a bard might say to some future generation listening to the tale of your quest. What elements might be put into the legend groove?

Tuesday’s winner is posted at the bottom of this blog! ~DD

I’m late posting today. Have a headache and I really wished I could have stayed in bed longer. However, I have to play catch up with my goals for the week.

Already out of the way:
* The short story is done and shipped to the editor.
* The synopsis for a new novella was written, shipped and accepted by the editor.
* Yesterday, I completed revisions on the first Viking book and returned it to my editor.
* This morning I finished work on the straight-to-Kindle project and shipped it to someone else to format for Kindle and Smashwords.

When I state everything like that, I think I haven’t done so badly this week, but one glance at my planning spreadsheet reminds me what more has to be done and out the door this week.

What got in the way? Family. My daughter’s a smart girl, but math isn’t one of her talents. I spent the last two days over at her place working through problems with her. Hours working through function points, formulas and graphing lines. Makes my head hurt.

And the pool is cloudy and starting to turn green. That’s what two days of not paying attention to my baby gets me. I so wanted to swim this morning, but the chemicals have to dissipate a bit before I can.

Did I tell you about my encounter with the water moccasin?

I was outside my back door on the phone with the tattoo artist I’m going to see on Sunday in Little Rock at a tattoo convention. Mid-sentence, I glanced down and saw a coil beside my hand. I jerked back. The snake started slithering away.

Now, I like snakes. I don’t have a problem letting them go about their business—unless they are in poisonous and in my yard where they can hurt my family or my dog. This one was an olive-y brown, around 3-feet long, thick-bodied, and with a triangular-shaped head. Water moccasin! Cottonmouth! Whatever you want to call them. This is what they look like:

I couldn’t find my snake stick (it’s just a long supple branch you can use to beat the back of a snake to kill it) so I ran up the stairs to get “Dead-Eye” dad and his shotgun. Without his glasses, and on the first shot, he took off the snake’s head.

Ah! Life in rural Arkansas!

So you want to know who won the signed copy of Darkness Burning, right?

The winner (by random number generator) is…Jennifer Mathis! Jennifer, e-mail me with your snail mail address!

Psst! Yesterday’s contest continues. If you post today, you have two chances to win! ~DD

Note from Emma:

I have a split personality. I write contemporary romance, romantic suspense and historical romance as one name, and erotic romance as Emma Jay. Because I’m a teacher, and thanks to my enthusiastic principal, people know I write romance, and they know my other pseudonym.

I can’t let them know about this side of my life. In fact, very few people do. My husband, but not my son. Some writer friends but not others.

This has resulted in me having a split personality. I have two Twitter accounts, two Blogger accounts and two email accounts. In fact, today I was on the same email loop as both personas. I was getting whiplash changing from one to another! I haven’t actually found a balance yet, and I’m glad to be on summer vacation as I’m trying to work it out. Any suggestions on managing a split personality would be much appreciated! ~ Emma

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

University teaching assistant Jamie Winston is ready to break out of her shy, unadventurous shell by finally approaching Brady Lane—the sexy Iraqi war vet seated in the front row of her journalism class. He’s brave and outgoing—something Jamie is not—and good looking to boot. Her shy flirtation with Brady at a frat party leads to a deliciously sinful tryst that leaves her wanting more. Each breathless encounter with Brady peels away a layer of Jamie’s insecurity, leaving her more wanton and willing each time. But eventually, all good things must come to an end. When Brady finally leaves for an internship, will Jamie be brave enough to let him go?

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

He checked the room, then turned to face her. “You think I was playing around about that fantasy? Every time you walk by my seat, I get a hard-on, smelling you.” He leaned in to take a deep breath, then frowned a little. “And you walk by my seat a lot.”

“I thought you were interested in what I was teaching.”

“Oh, yeah. But I’m also trying to see what you look like under those clothes.” His gaze traveled down to her breasts. “This is much better.”

She tilted her head and smiled. “You clearly don’t have much of an imagination.”

“We’ll see what you say about that when I’m done.” He opened another door, looked inside, and gave her hand a gentle tug.

Heart pounding, she tried not to stumble as her feet failed to meet the enthusiasm of the rest of her body. When he closed the door behind them, she attempted to swallow her doubts.

He’d chosen the library, only one small desk lamp illuminating the room. The room smelled of books, then Brady crowded her against the door, filling her with his scent, a spicy soap mixed with the softer yeasty scent of beer.

And he was big, so big. Even in her wedge heels, her nose only reached the middle of his chest as he edged closer. His shoulders blocked the light as his breath washed warm over her skin. Her pulse leapt like a rabbit at her throat as he lowered his mouth to brush over her parted lips, once, twice, before settling over them.

Oh, God. His lips were firm, and molded to hers, learning the shape of her mouth. His tongue teased the entrance of her mouth, then he delved deeper.

She glided her hands up his chest and curled her fingers through his shaggy hair, letting her body slide up his as she opened herself to his kiss, bringing his tongue deeper. God, he was hard everywhere, his shoulders, arms, chest, thighs, cock.

Wow, it was big. She circled her belly against it until he groaned, his fingers tightening on her hips before easing up under her blouse.

If you post a comment today and tomorrow, you’ll be in the running
for an autographed copy of this book! I’ll announce a winner on Thursday.

Just to keep the series fresh in your mind, here’s a sexy excerpt from Book 3 of the Dark Realm series. Book 4 arrives in September! On Thursday, I’ll tell you about my encounter with the water moccasin! ~DD

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“…Ploys, palace intrigues, backstabbing and betrayal, shifting allegiances and true friendship, and above all, abiding love, are what make Delilah Devlin’s dark romances so irresistible. Do not expect a formulaic and predictable story. You can, however, count on a sensual read, hot flashes, sharp humor, unexpected twists, sudden revelations, and one of the best storytellers in her genre…”
5 Cherries, Whipped Cream Reviews

“…Once again Delilah Devlin delivers a juicy tale of betrayal and destiny that will make your toes curl. A great read!”
Fresh Fiction on DARKNESS BURNING

Beware the place where darkness rules and bloodlust is the ultimate aphrodisiac…

An apocalyptic storm has transformed New Orleans into a city of lawless terror—and Mikaela Jones is standing in the center of the nightmare. A beautiful, courageous journalist with a mysterious past, she sees monsters prowling all around her. But the gravest peril of all awaits Mikaela when she is taken captive by a mesmerizing male who is not mortal—a breathtaking creature who arouses the fire in her blood, making her burn for the exquisite erotic ecstasy of total surrender.

For seven centuries Alex Broussard has been waiting for the chance to free himself from the threat of the matriarchal undead society that seeks his destruction. And now, finally, that time is at hand—until the opportunity is ruined by the stunning, innocent, human interloper Alex is compelled to rescue from certain doom. Now they are joined, for good or ill, as they give in to the burning need that neither can resist—risking everything to experience the ultimate sensual release as the darkness rises all around them.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Alex had always liked the way Gabriella talked. Like a man. If she’d been a man, they might have been great friends. “Again, I apologize. Tell me, Gabi, are you really so eager to see me dead? Aren’t you the least bit curious about why I’d bother my ass to hang around New Orleans where I’m obviously not welcome?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said airily. “The need to rule? The need to control everyone around you…” She slid her finger along the edge of her collar. “We both know how much you enjoy being in control.”

Alex’s eyelids drifted half-closed, eyeing the collar then dropping his gaze to follow the flush of heat ripening her breasts. Her rose-colored nipples darkened, the tips beading.

She snuggled closer, pressing herself against his arm, and he turned his head to let her nuzzle his neck. “Does anyone in your clan know how much you love to be dominated?”

“Of course not. I’m very careful, usually, about whom I allow to cover me. Can’t let any of those alpha males think they can be my master.”

When her teeth nibbled his ear lobe, he shuddered. “Wouldn’t do at all to let a man be on top, hmmm?”

“Like I said, I’m choosy…and discrete. I have my position in my clan to consider.” Her tongue trailed along the edge of his jaw. “Alex…?”

“Yes, love?” He waited, knowing what she’d ask, knowing he couldn’t refuse, but also honest enough to admit he was so damn aroused after their tussle that he needed the explosive release she’d offer.

“Remind me why I couldn’t get enough of you…for old time’s sake?” The amused curve of her lips was at odds with the need reflected in her intense gaze.

“A chase, then?”

Her breath hitched, lifting her chest. Her nipples dimpled. The musk of her honeyed arousal wafted in the air around them. “Loosen the collar?” she asked, in a deepening contralto.

The collar was only for expedience. They both knew he was powerful enough to tame her, even in her lupine form. “Have you learned any new tricks?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

Her chin dipped, her eyes rounding innocently. “Alex, do you really think I want to kill you here? I’d be stuck here with only your sad carcass to feed me for a day or two.” She leaned closer and nipped his chin. “And we both know I have a ravenous appetite.”
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I needed a little inspiration before I started the day. Thought you might too! Be sure to stop by tomorrow for a new flashback contest! Happy Monday!!