Gathering raw material.

I’m on vacation, which means I’m not writing, but I’m not just gathering rosebuds. As a writer of romantic fiction set (mostly) in the South, I’m always doing research. I’m gathering material. Raw material. Very raw, some of it. For instance, yesterday, I saw alligators. Enormous alligators. Some of them with heads as large as my five-year-old daughter and tails as long as me. Here’s a sample:

Very large alligators.

Very large alligators.

I was in awe. Very impressive. I tend to put things that impress me into my stories, so you probably shouldn’t be surprised if gators figure into a future storyline pretty prominently. I also saw some other rather impressive reptiles in the scaly flesh. I’ve admired the king cobra for a long time. I used to draw pictures of them on my notebooks at school. I thought they were badass. Seeing one in person did nothing to dispell that image for me, either. To quote me: “Oh my God, that’s all one snake.”

Yes. It's all one snake.

King Cobra

I can’t quite figure out how to fit a cobra into one of my southern romances, but an equally impressive and much more likely alternative might be the cottonmouth or water moccasin. As luck would have it, a few tanks down from the cobra, I encountered one of these, thankfully with a wall of glass between us.

Water Moccasin

Water Moccasin

I couldn’t take my eyes off this one, but in spite of the glass between us, I didn’t dare get too close, either. I’ve grown up around snakes and I’ve always been warned to stay away from all of them, but the cottonmouth is the one that I’ve heard the worst stories about. The rattlesnake warns you, the copperhead hides from you, but the cottonmouth will come after you if you piss him off.

So how can I fit all these cold-blooded reptiles into my love stories? I can’t swear I can. I already had a heroine do battle with a copperhead in Where the Heart Lies. (I did enjoy writing that scene, which was inspired by finding a copperhead in my own backyard. I didn’t kill it, by the way. My husband did.) I do know a warm fire feels much warmer after you’ve been outside on a cold day, though, and it might be interesting to find out how hot and bright the flame of romance might burn against a colder backdrop than what I usually use.

Might. Remember: raw material.

Mayan Apocalypse? Maybe not, but it is the Winter Solstice: A few facts and an excerpt.

This will most likely be my last post…until after Christmas, that is, and I thought I’d make it a blatant sales pitch. Winter Solstice was my second book published, but the first full-length romance I ever wrote. I’m very proud of it, and I’d love to share a little excerpt with you guys. First, though: A few facts about Winter Solstice 2012:

1. It’s the shortest day of the year in my half of the world. Tomorrow, December 21, 2012, daylight will last only about nine and a half hours in the mid-Atlantic region of the United States.
2. It’s the official start of winter in the Northern Hemisphere.
3. The actual time of the winter solstice is 6:12 a.m. on December 21 for me. This is, ironically, 11:12 a.m. GMT, meaning the winter solstice actually occurs at 11:12 a.m. 12/21/12 this year, if you happen to be in Great Britain. Ahem, like Stonehenge. Cool, huh?
4. Winter Solstice contains the only phone sex scene I’ve ever written… Oh wait, that’s not about the winter solstice, but it is interesting, isn’t it? 😉

Continuing her tour of the artwork, she paused before a large painting, showing two deer in a wintry landscape before a rising full moon. It occupied the wall opposite the Redlin painting. In sharp contrast to the warm oranges and reds and nostalgia of Redlin, however, everything in this painting, from the stark snowy landscape and sharp blue-black shadows to the bare trees and the ribs showing through the deer’s hides, spoke of starvation. Winter Solstice was printed on a brass plate on the frame. Becky stared at it for several long minutes, letting its barrenness creep into her soul, its iciness encompass her entire being.

“You like it?” he asked from behind her.

“Like isn’t the right word.” She shook off the creeping feeling of cold and loneliness with difficulty. “It’s powerful, though. My favorite day too.” She let him guide her through the swinging door into the large, stone-floored kitchen. Despite the shiny, stainless steel appliances and granite countertops, the kitchen had a homey air due to the little breakfast alcove with a rough-hewn wooden table that was now set for dinner under a wrought-iron chandelier. Susie pushed her way through the swinging door and padded over the wide planks of the hardwood floor to the firewarmed stone hearth of a large fireplace near the table. She shifted around on the stones, finally coming to rest with her huge head on her paws.

John opened two beers and set them on the table, taking Becky’s wineglass from her in a smooth movement as he motioned for her to sit. He set a plate of rockfish, steaming baked potato and salad in front of her. “Why is the winter solstice your favorite day? I would have had you
pegged for a spring person.”

He sat across from Becky, focusing all his attention on her. It made her a little self-conscious, but as he turned away to heap butter and sour cream on his potato, she found a reply. “It’s the shortest day of the year.”

His eyebrows shot up and he glanced at her. “Doesn’t explain why an optimist like you would like it. Seems like the perfect day for somebody like me.”

Starting to feel even more ill at ease, as if this were something too personal to tell him, she opened her mouth and closed it again. When he raised his eyebrows, she realized he wouldn’t let her not answer. “Well, if it’s the shortest day of the year, it means the rest of the days afterward
are getting longer, right?”

A slow smile spread across his face and he nodded, as if her answer fit in perfectly with his perception of her. “I get it.”

She wondered why he felt he knew her so well when they’d met such a short time ago. “What exactly do you get?” She took a bite of baked potato and tried to remain calm.

“Obviously, to you, it doesn’t matter where you’ve been or where you are so much as where you’re going.” He chewed thoughtfully for a moment. “Whereas I find it difficult to look past where I am at the present.”

Want to BUY IT NOW? The link is to the Lyrical Press store, where you’ll also find links to many other great e-book retailers.