I don't want this to be a whiny post. 

However... 

Right now I am in the midst of writing the sequel to The Breeders. I have been doing so on and off since last summer.  I've taken a couple of breaks to finish my new sci fi romance Eyes Ever to the Sky, but for the last month I've been banging away every night trying to hit my daily thousand word goal. And it's been hard, y'all. 

Sometimes writing flows easily like a gentle stream tripping delicately along. And sometimes writing feels more like a trickle of mud caked sludge barely scraping through a pin hole. Right now, my sequel is a mud pie and I am the pin hole. Or pin head, whichever you'd rather. For a while I wondered why writing had grown so difficult. Was I losing my touch? After writing my fourth book did something come unmoored in my brain? Had I lost it??? It would explain a lot, but lord help me. 

Then I started to really ponder the sequel. First I examined all the movie sequels that had bombed. Think of Back to the Future II or The Matrix Reloaded. I mean, awful. Did any of you know there was a Speed II? I didn't because I assume it was so bad it was unwatchable. In fact, I think there are only a handful of movies where the second was even close to being as good as the first. Books are not immune to the sequel disease. I've read many YA sci fi sequels this year and have quit reading quite a few. Its so much rehashing and more mooning over an aloof male love interest. Or more love triangles. Gag.

I think this is why writing my sequel is so hard. Every time I put a word down I think, "This isn't as good as The Breeders. You are only going to disappoint all those people who are waiting patiently for this. Give up now and play Candy Crush." Usually I'm very good at squashing those voices, but the problem is the better The Breeders sells, the more likely what I am writing isn't great. It's hard to silence voices when there is a very good chance that they are accurate. 

For those of you waiting patiently for this sequel, don't worry, I am still working on it. I wrote 700 words today and plan on hitting my 1000 word goal before bed. It will still feel like mud through a pin hole, but I will move forward anyway. I owe it to my fans to push past the fear, to struggle forward no matter what the cost and to find out what happens to my characters. It won't be easy, but I have to believe it is worth it. Every painful step of the way. 

I don’t know about you, but if I read one more story about a sexy but aloof vampire/werewolf/merman/garden gnome I might drive the stake straight into my own heart. To say that paranormal romance has been done is like saying that Lady Gaga’s outfits are different: the understatement of the century. As a reviewer for the indie book review site, Underground Book Reviews, I get inundated with requests to review paranormal books. The tropes have been beaten to death with sexy, yet tortured super beings and the innocent damsels who love them. Readers are fed up with it. I’ll wage a coffin full of money that if you pitched a vampire paranormal romance to an agent right now, they’d laugh you out the door.

And yet, there’s some reason why Stephenie Meyer can now buy an African country from writing four books.

I’ll be the first to go on record to say that I LOVED the Twilight books when they first came out. I read the first book before anyone was talking about it (I think that puts me in some elite nerd group where the perks are atomic wedgies, but I digress). That book rocked my world. There was something so…addicting about being loved by a creature strong enough to crush you. To be special enough to attract the attention of a super human, now that was sexy. No amount of sour grapes on the part of reviewers can take away what those books did for fantasy writers and reader everywhere.

So, where does that leave us? With stories that are derivative, characters that are more cardboard than a cereal box and plots completely overdone. Do we kill this genre and bury it with a sparkling tomb stone? “Here Lies Vampire Love Stories. RIP.” Like its undead characters, would it rise, moaning, clawing for scraps of life?

Science fiction and romance are my two favorite genres, so I refuse to believe their pairing has been killed. No matter how many peanut butter and jelly sandwiches people eat, they still come back for more because the pairing is just so good. So it should be with paranormal romance. The genre doesn’t have to die, but it must be refashioned, reborn. And, that is exactly what I attempted to do with Eyes Ever to the Sky, my new YA sci fi romance. Did I go far enough from the derivative? Did I hug close enough to the tropes that matter? Only my readers may judge. I will tell you that not a single scene is set inside a high school and not a single character sparkles. That has to count for something.

My conclusion. Paranormal romance is not dead. Derivative stories and fan fic may be on its last straggling breath, but like any genre, authors can remake, reshape and reform. That’s the beauty of story–it can always be made new.

What about you? Do you think Paranormal Romance is dead?

A few months ago I had the pleasure of reading and reviewing Witchblood by Emma Mills. Since that time I've gotten to know Emma and learned what a hard-working, talented indie author she is. She's released a new Witchblood short story that I'm pretty excited about. Take a look. 

Paris, France 1793

Growing up in the court of King Louis XVI, Genevieve enjoys a sheltered privileged life with the gardens of Versailles as her playground, until on the eve of her nineteenth birthday, the king is executed and all hell breaks loose. 

As family members and close friends fall prey to the Revolution, Genevieve turns to the one man who promises to help her; the shadowy figure in court, and friend to the elder brother that betrayed them all, but is Sebastian worthy of her trust or will he too betray her?

Genevieve has a choice to make, one that will change her life forever. Go it alone and try to escape the murderous streets of Paris, or join Sebastian, forget her nightmares and start a new life… an immortal life?


Where to buy it:
Amazon
Smashwords


Find Emma Mills:
Twitter
Goodreads
https://www.facebook.com/Witchbloodthenovel?ref=hl
http://witchbloodthenovel.com

It's here, my second novel! I'm so relieved/thrilled/scared/peein-in-my-pants. This book has been a long time coming and I can't wait to hear what you think about it. To celebrate, I'm giving away a $25 Amazon gift card. Enter below. 


Buy the ebook on Amazon
Buy the paperback on CreateSpace
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This past week I was invited to attend a Marine Educator's Experience in Parris Island, SC. As a high school counselor, I talk to students about their plans for the future and sometimes those plans include military. I thought this trip would be a good way to receive first-hand experience about the armed services. What I didn't know was how amazing the trip would be and how it would change my views about Marines, and all armed services, forever. 

My four day journey took me straight to Boot Camp where we had our own drill instructor. Even though he gave us about 50% of the yelling and screaming and running around that they give normal recruits, it was enough to help me understand the process. Standing in line, waiting to urinate and hearing "Move! Hurry up! No one waits on you!" was enough to make me nearly pee my pants. We were marched around, told we weren't doing anything right and made to "Step it up" over and over. Nothing we did was good enough. No amount of shouting was ever loud enough. And I could tell our drill instructor wanted to put us in "the pit" (a pit of sand where you do push-up, mountain-climbers and more while being mercilessly yelled at). Luckily, as educators, we were spared that part of the experience. 

But then they switched us back into educator mode and gave us demonstrations on water safety instruction, rifles, rappelling, pugil sticks and more. It was amazing to participate in the actual training that make America's Marines. Granted, the real Marines were 100 times better at each event than we were, but it was nice to be right there with them, seeing what they see, hearing what they hear. I am truly amazed and awed by our young men and women who make the commitment to serve our country. It is a sacrifice, one not taken lightly and for that I am very grateful. 

My blog is usually geared toward writing, and I was reflecting today on how this experience might enhance my writing career as well as my counseling career. Obviously, I can now describe what it feels like to fire and M-16, or what a mess hall smells like. I can better imagine what a recruit on day 14 thinks about while lying in her bunk at night. All those things and more will make me a better writer. But, more importantly, this experience taught me to be open to new adventures. I am an introvert by nature and a home-body by trade. New experiences scare me and I tend to shy away from them. I think many writers are like me, content to sit in on a Saturday night with a computer on her lap instead of hitting the town. However, I think much is lost if that is all we ever do. To be writers, we need to be able to glean much from the world. The best writers can transport you, body and soul, to wonderful places. Do we need to go to every spot on the world to talk about it in a book? No. Do the best writers seem to know minute details that Google cannot provide? Yes. Though I tend to shy away from new and exciting experiences, I need to push myself. After all, life isn't about what's on the page. It's the memories we make along the way. 

Semper Fi.