I’ve written a bit recently about the concept of no plot surviving contact with the characters, and that holds true even for such nebulous, vague plots as fill my pantser head.

I don’t map out plots. I begin with an idea, maybe even just a character or scene, and then go from there. Nothing’s planned out, except I know I’ve got to take these characters on a bumpy ride and tie up all the loose ends for a happily-ever-after ending. How they get to that ending is always up for grabs.

In my latest work-in-progress, the characters aren’t doing what I expected. They’re veering off-course in their own intractable ways, which makes my job a hell of a lot more difficult. I can’t just follow where they lead, because they’re not necessarily headed in the direction I want them to go. So, I wrestle with them.

Not literally, of course. Figuratively.

For instance, one of the secondary characters demanded a voice in the alternating POV style of this story. I gave in to her demand. Every so often, the sequence of narrative alternating between Sam (our hero) and Dana (our heroine) switches to Sonya (our heroine’s best friend). After all, it’s Sonya’s “story” that gets the ball rolling in this manuscript. Strangely, the villain (or maybe just one of the villains) of this piece has not demanded a voice. I live in dread that he will. Or, if he does, maybe he’ll find redemption.

It’s a toss-up.

As stated in earlier articles, the characters pretty much take control of the story. They know where they want to go and fight me to get there. Sometimes, it works out, as it did with Aridis and Edan in The Falcon of Imenotash. That particular story grabbed me by the throat and would not let go. It remains a favorite of mine: powerful, multi-faceted, and surprisingly deep for such a small book.

Allowing the characters take control (as though I’m actually giving permission–hah!) can yield some wonderful benefits when it comes to storytelling. Sometimes I’ll go back and read passages and think, “Wow, that’s awesome stuff!” Other times, I succumb to the inevitable “face-palm” and wonder how I could have written such dross. Regardless, this absence of control results in a tumultuous process of emotional highs and lows. I’m sure the psychiatrists out there would have field day with this.

So, the latest work-in-progress is giving me a few fits. That’s nothing new. Want to know what it’s about? Here’s the draft book blurb: Professional photographer Dana Secrest has a secret and doesn’t even know it. When she storms from her best friend’s home on Christmas Eve–not the wisest decision she’s ever made–security contractor Sam Galdicar follows her to save her from her own hot temper and impulsive action. Upon arriving home, Dana discovers her apartment has been ransacked. Then an attempt is made on her life. She doesn’t know who’s trying to kill her or why, but Sam is determined to protect the woman whose eyes don’t need a camera to see the truth.

Yeah, another heroine with a hot temper that goads her to behave in less than intelligent ways. But something’s got to be the catalyst that sparks the romance, right? For more kicks and giggles, part of the story takes place in St. Paris, Ohio, a real town just a few miles north of where I live. How’s that for verisimilitude?

Send good vibes my way, because I hope to finish the story in April with publication scheduled for the end of April or early May.

Silver Dagger Book Tours 

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nhttps://www.silverdaggertours.com/sdsxx-tours/hogtied-book-tour-and-giveawayn

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nCowgirl meets biker … what could go wrong?
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nWhen a biker shoots her sister’s prize steer, champion roper Melanie goes after him. Unfortunately, she doesn’t think it through, and that hot temper puts her squarely in Hammer’s sights. Melanie’s ire only increases when Hammer defuses the dangerous situation by claiming her as his property. If the former Marine and now sergeant-at-arms of the Black Ice Revolution MC thinks she’s his for the taking, he’s sadly mistaken. She wants nothing to do with him, but he’s not about to let this sexy, feisty woman go. ​n

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Excerpt ​

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nThe biker returned that evening, accompanied by half a dozen of his brothers. The rumble of their vehicles caught the attention of animals and humans alike. Melanie’s father ventured outside, shotgun leveled and ready. Melanie and Julie peeked at their unwanted visitors from the barn where they were finishing up evening chores. Melanie’s eyes flickered over the bloodstained spot where Buster had been killed. Not one to tolerate waste, Daddy had hauled the carcass to the local butcher for processing. 
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n“What do you want?” the old man shouted.
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nThe big, handsome biker who’d escorted Melanie from the rally dismounted his steel steed and approached, hands raised, palms open.
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n“I just want to talk to you and the girl.” He paused, then said her name, “Melanie.”
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nThe muzzle of the shotgun swept across the line of bikers.
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n“And them? What’re they here for?”
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n“Protection.”
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n“We don’t need your help.”
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nStubborn old man. Hammer sighed and explained again, “Look, mister, Satan’s Dogs is a big club, bigger than Black Ice Revolution, and not known for their easygoing, forgiving nature. Your daughter humiliated one of their own. It doesn’t matter to them or their allies that Lowball was in the wrong: he was shown up by a girl. They’ve lost respect and they’ll do what they think necessary to get it back. You’re risking yourself and both girls if you don’t accept our protection.”
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nThe old man’s eyes narrowed with angry suspicion. “You folks only protect what’s yours.”
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nHammer squared his shoulders. “I claimed Melanie in front of the entire rally to make sure she got out of there safely. I put my reputation on the line, so she’d better be mine.”
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n“No!” Melanie screeched. Dropping an empty bucket, she marched toward them. “No! I don’t belong to anyone!” ​
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n​#MFRWhooks 
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It never fails. After a vacation, however, brief, restarting work occurs at a stuttering pace. I doubt I’m unusual in that regard.

A client once stated he had a boss who firmly believed that every vacation should last at least three weeks: the first week to forget about work, the second week to enjoy, and the third week to finally relax and recuperate. Or something like that. I can empathize.

I accompanied my youngest brother and his wife to the Universal Studios amusement park in Orlando, Florida. I spent Thursday traveling. Friday and Saturday we went to the park where, as my sister-in-law promised, they walked my legs to nubbins. We returned Sunday.

I enjoyed the trip. My brother and sister-in-law made for good companions. It helped that they’re seasoned travelers. We toured everything Harry Potter, rode roller coasters, and get better acquainted with computer graphic magic and 3-D glasses than I ever expected. (The King Kong ride is exceptionally well done.) What did meet our expectations was the overpriced food. Really, $5 for a cup of soda is ridiculous. But, they have a captive audience and capitalize on that.

Every amusement ride exited into a gift shop stocked with cheesy themed tee shirts, mugs, key chains, and more stuff that I did not need and had no desire to buy. This was one trip, rather like spelunking, which I can say that I enjoyed and now never need to repeat.

I do have some other short trips coming up this year, all for book-related events. I’m headed to Lexington, KY on Saturday, March 21. In October, I return to Louisville, KY. This year I’ll make my first appearance at MARCON 55 in Columbus, OH. Wish me luck.

Speaking of events, registration for the 2020 Springfield Book Fair is open. The fee is $75 per table, which, yes, is an increase over the past three events. The increase is to pay for enhanced marketing. No, participating authors should not expect television commercials, but maybe we can spring for a radio spot. Fingers are crossed.

Unfortunately, there’s not a whole lot going on this week and not much preying on my mind. I’m in that recuperation phase of the vacation, but at an accelerated pace because I don’t have a third week to throw away on doing nothing.