Puzzling It Out
Clive Barker wrote a book called The Great and Secret Show
years ago. The theme of the book is that many events that were seemingly
unrelated in many times and places were really interrelated in a great show, a
battle of evil and light forces secret to most of the bit players. Each time
and place with characters were parts of a great whole, a puzzle with a purpose.
I love this theme and how it is related to writing. In a
regular puzzle, there is a set number of pieces, and you try to form part of an
object with them, to make a larger
picture. The easiest way to do so is by
grouping the pieces into subsets, and using those sets to form smaller
pictures; first the border, then some of
the main characters of the larger picture. As the puzzle forms, you can almost
see the bigger picture, and when you finally can, you know how to finish it, as
there are a set number of pieces left. Every piece has a place, and unless you’ve
done something weird, there are no extra.
In writing, all the elements of puzzle solving are there.
The picture is the story, the small subsets are scenes, the actual pieces dialogue,
settings and characters. Writers may form their puzzles in different fashions–
some forming the border into an outline for their story, then putting the
scenes together to make smaller parts, then forming the scenes into bigger
subsets, finally linking them all together in a novel. Others form the scenes
first, then flesh out characters, adding on until a larger picture begins to
unfold.
But in writing, there is one very important difference: no set number of pieces. An author’s story is
done when the writer says it’s done. Need another piece? Fabricate one that
fits. Need a larger picture? Expand the border to include more scenes and
pieces.
My advice? If you find a few extraneous pieces, save them.
You never know…they might go to a new puzzle you haven’t thought of yet!
Long Blurb:
Metal shop worker Sarelle “Sar” McGarran is the ultimate
tomboy and considers herself capable of handling whatever life throws her way.
Recently widowed, she takes refuge in quiet country life until the day she
stumbles upon an unconscious vampire on her property. Unable to leave the
wounded man, she takes him in.
Danial Racklan is a
sexy bad boy with a complicated past and questionable motives. Yet before long,
he has Sar completely captivated. He introduces her to his secret, supernatural
world, in the process reawakening emotions and desires she hasn’t felt since
her husband’s tragic death. Soon Sar finds herself drawn into a dark, dangerous
reality in which her desire for Danial is second only to her wariness that he
may break her heart. Yet Sar must soon face there is much Danial has kept from
her, even as she begins to love him. When Danial asks her for an Oath of
forever, will Sar give Danial his greatest desire?
When your lover is a vampire, a
promise of forever takes on a whole new meaning…
PROMISE
ME
Excerpt:
Danial was dying.
He
could feel it in his blood, the burning in his flesh. He pulled the truck onto
a side road and accelerated. His pursuer couldn’t be far behind. He glanced at
his arm, at the small gash that was even now healing. It might be better for
him if he opened it up again. He’d cleaned it the best he could, but it wasn’t
like he’d had time to do more than pour water on it. It felt as though a razor
had cut him and was working its way deeper into his flesh.
Had
to be poison. And no run of the mill arsenic or derivative.
His
mind worked frantically. What poison had been on the tip of that arrow? Who had
that been in the shadows? Who’d known he’d been working on the Donaldson
contract that he’d be there tonight, watching? And most importantly, who had
dared attack him?
It
was possible the attacker hadn’t known his name. But whoever had done this knew
the breed of man he hunted and had prepared a special end for him. He’d gotten
a glimpse in the shadows of what had hunted him; red eyes and a masculine form
moving at supernatural speed. In his world, that still left a long list of
possible suspects. For certain, it had been another of his kind.
He
came to a crossroads and went west, then to another and headed south. There
were no headlights behind him, at least so far. Best to leave the most
complicated trail he could.
With
some bitterness, he wondered why he was fighting so hard to survive. His life
had been pointless for the last half century. Modern books and novels talked
about how fun it was being a creature of the night; so romantic and glamorous.
What a crock of shit. If he hadn’t had
his business, he’d have gone crazy. And as for there being so many women who
wanted to be with . . . someone like him . . . for the most part, it was a
phase girls in their twenties went through. Looking for a bad boy to titillate
and seduce them. Not one had been
anything of substance. It never lasted very long. But the ones who wanted in
for the long haul were worse. There was always the vow of doing anything for
him and the promise of eternal devotion. Until they found out that he couldn’t
give them what they wanted. Then it was wheedling and hints of what he would do
if he really cared for them. He’d stayed away from any serious commitments
lately, say the last thirty years. Why bother, when they were doomed to fail?
Enough
of depressing thoughts! God, wasn’t death at the end of the night depressing
enough? He smiled at that and checked the rearview mirror. Still no lights. His
attacker was either a master tracker or an amateur.
Maybe
his life wasn’t everything he’d hoped for when he was young. But he’d be damned
if he’d give it up without a fight.
He
felt a wave of nausea, and swallowed. If there was going to be a fight, it had
better be quick. He could already feel himself getting lightheaded, and it was
getting worse by the second. He had to pull in somewhere and get out of the
open. The night was more than half over. He’d never make it to the campsite
he’d planned on, not how he felt.
***
Terian
paused, full of righteous triumph, a wide smile on his face. This was going
perfectly. He’d hit his target, and it would all be over in a matter of hours.
If he was lucky and had gotten the arrow deep enough, it might be only one
hour. That poison was damn effective. Better yet, fate had done him a favor.
The killer had been calling on his cell when he’d been hit, and in his shock
and rush to get away, he’d dropped it.
Slowly,
red eyes gleaming, Terian held the phone in a taloned hand and crushed it to
pieces. No help coming tonight.
He
still had to be careful. After all, he’d never done anything like this before.
This was no time to get cocky. It wouldn’t be over until he’d either seen a
body or a nice mound of ashes bathed in daylight.
Better
get a move on. The night was already half over and his prey had a big head
start.
***
Where
the hell was he?
Danial
looked around and saw only cornfields and wooded areas. Small houses were
interspersed here and there, some with barns or paddocks. Livestock were in
some of the pens; if only that would work tonight.
The
muscles in his arm suddenly contracted. He swerved, barely missing a truck
coming the other way. He overcorrected, sending his truck almost into the
ditch. But then he saw a turnoff. At least, he hoped it was. His eyesight was
going dim, and he knew his time had run out.
He
swung the truck into the opening among the trees, evoking a loud clank from the
front fender. Nothing like a metal chain to scratch paint, not to mention leave
evidence of a trail. The road seemed little more than a path, and he maneuvered
as best he could; but his strength was failing fast. He slumped over the wheel,
and the car rolled to a stop.
He
had to get to safety. At least, in the trees there’d be darkness and shadows,
where he might be able to find shelter.
Exhausted,
he pushed against the door, momentarily forgetting how to work it. He fell
against the passenger side door, disengaging the lock, and opening the door. In
slow motion, he fell, the ground rushing up to meet him.
The
door, at an angle, remained open for a moment, illuminating his body in a pale
glow. Then the door succumbed to gravity and swung slowly shut with a soft
click, leaving the vehicle and Danial’s still body in darkness.
Chapter
One
Yawning, I saw it was close to
eleven p.m. It was Monday night, and I was curled up on my couch, cats sharing
my lap. Sipping a glass of wine, I read the latest DeMille thriller. Jessica,
my male cat with gender-identity issues, and my black cat Cavity had persuaded
me to stay up past my self-appointed bedtime in order to provide some warmth
and company. My slightly feral cat, Asher, was also there, hiding beneath the
sofa, while two dogs, Ghost and Darkness, slept at my feet.
It had been a long day, but I was
used to that. Living alone at thirty on fifty-plus acres of both forest and
rich-yet-rocky soil with pets and a job, even a part-time one like mine, meant
long hours. And the work could be brutal. Today, coupled with visits to both
Flora, my pseudo-grandmother, and my best friend, Kat, I was exhausted. But
chain sawing and wood splitting tended to do that to me. Worse, this would be
an extra hard week for me. That dentist appointment today had upset my work
schedule, meaning I’d need to go in on Wednesday this week to make up the time.
I probably shouldn’t have bought
those flowers for Flora, I thought sheepishly. But she loved them, and she was
only going to turn ninety-eight once. I could get by with waiting another month
to make my first foray back into the dating world. What would it hurt, to wait
another month?
Flora, of course, had taken the
opportunity to remind me to get on with my life in her usual fashion: “People
come in and out of your life. It’s the time you have here with them that
matters, not that they may not be around forever.”
To make matters worse, Kat had then
reminded me that we were both getting older. I’m
worried about you, she’d said, taking my hand. You need to let go, Sar.
I’m okay, I’d replied a
trifle coolly. I feel good.
We aren’t getting any younger, she’d
replied, her tone a little sad. It slips away so fast.
It matters how you feel. I feel
young, and good. I’m okay.
But the truth was I’d lied. I did
feel good most of the time. But I wasn’t okay. When I was twenty-something, I’d
thought of thirty as “old”. I’d been sure that by the time I was thirty, I’d be
married, with two cats, and maybe even a kid or two. At the least, I’d figured
on knowing who I’d be with the rest of my life. I’d found out too late that
even the best laid plans could fall in on me like a house of cards with one
fateful gust.
Maybe that was a good sign, that I
knew I was missing something, unhappy living alone. I missed having a man
around, both in my life and in my bed. I’d lost someone I loved. But I wasn’t
dead, and maybe it was time to stop acting like I was. There was that singles
thing coming up in town...
Suddenly, my comfortable and
reflective mood was interrupted by distant snapping and crunching sounds. They
were faint enough to register with my challenged brain that all wasn’t as it
should be. The cats didn’t act as if anything was wrong, but they were
unreliable. If the house was burning, they might only move when the heat became
unbearable. But the dogs at my feet were motionless, their heads raised. Dogs
have ears that don’t fail.
I stepped to the window just in time
to see headlights slowly following the road. That was the sound I heard: a car
driving on the property edge, along my neighbor’s access road. Whoever was out
there at this time of night was most likely not traveling the road to inspect
the gravel pit at the end for safety violations.
Some jackasses were out looking to
have some fun. My neighbors would have no idea that anyone was there, their
home being a good ten minutes by foot through the trees, not to mention roughly
a hundred feet higher in elevation. Many a truckload of raw earth and gravel
had been dug out of the hillside, providing a perfect depression in the land to
conceal any telltale lights from anyone’s view but my own. No one else could
see them from the road, and even if they could, no one would care. Most people
minded their own business out here, unless you wanted to make trouble and were
prepared to deal with the business end of a shotgun.
The decision was now mine: did I
want to involve myself with this? Whoever was up there was just going to smoke
a little grass or drink a little, or have the kind of fun that involves little
plastic square wrappers. But it might well be something worse they were doing,
like crack or meth, and that could be dangerous for me to interrupt.
I cursed aloud and decided I’d
better take a look. Whoever had decided
to take a little side route to adventure had first gotten through the heavy
steel chain that blocked the access road. Bolt cutters would have been needed
to cut through that thing, and who carries bolt cutters in their car? Someone
had planned this, and if they were willing to cut a chain, they might be
planning worse than some drinking and partying.
Throwing on some clothes and
collecting my waist-length hair in a plastic clip, I gathered a flashlight and
my keys. I debated taking a weapon, but I talked myself out of it. Then, on the
way to the door, I talked myself back into it, and got my .38 Special revolver.
It was loaded. Depending on the size of the car, there could be six people at
the most. Six bullets were enough.
I buckled on my gun belt and knife
and went out the front door. Walking to
the barn, it occurred to me that I might be overreacting. But I wasn’t one for
hiding in the house, waiting to see if someone would leave me alone. It wasn’t
my way and had never been.
The first fall I’d owned the farm,
I’d seen a hunter parked by my barn during deer season. I hadn’t called the
police, hoping they would show up before he either left or put a bullet through
one of my windows. I’d loaded my shotgun and walked over to his truck. I’d
racked the weapon within hearing range, and when his head had whipped around,
I’d asked him what the hell he thought he was doing. He’d been properly
apologetic and left. More importantly, he’d spread the word, and I didn’t get
many trespassing hunters anymore. People who wanted to hunt on my land
respected me enough to ask me, and if I thought they hunted with care, I let
them. That was that.
Tonight, I hoped I could just ask
them to leave nicely and have them agree. Most times, despite my worries,
that’s exactly what happened. But I didn’t hear the usual sounds I expected:
loud talking, music, the sort of giggling that meant sex was a definite
possibility but not a surety. Odd that whoever was in the quarry wasn’t
laughing it up.
I got to the barn. Its outside light
was on and welcoming. I slid the door open and walked into the darkness inside.
I knew the barn in and out, and I wasn’t afraid. There was nothing that was
going to hurt me in there. I’d never been afraid of ghosts. I believed in God,
and I had faith. And what my faith couldn’t handle, my .38 Special was sure to
be able to take care of.
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