Silk & Shadows

Currently working on: Kicking this nasty cold
Mood: Disgustingly congested

XY and I hike and camp in the summer, often through Eastern Oregon and over and down into Idaho and Nevada, so I was saddened to read about a couple lost after traveling in the area. The wife was recovered alive this weekend after seven weeks missing, having survived on creek water and trail mix; the husband tried to walk out for help and has not yet been found. It’s rugged country, much of it still snowbound this time of year.

According to some reports, the couple had been following some scenic route with the help of a GPS when they became trapped in a ravine.

Which made me think about my writing.

I’m a plotter. Evidence at right. I like tools to help me find my way, whether that’s a GPS or a scene-by-scene beat sheet. When the tools are working, everything can be wonderful, each step proceeding accordingly and to plan, miles/pages whirling by under the feet/fingers.

But when it doesn’t work…

Hopefully you packed extra trail mix.

On Saturday, I drove up to the Seattle area for a romance reader event. (By the way, if you live between the Covington WA Library and Portland Oregon and want a signed copy of VOWED IN SHADOWS, check your local Barnes & Noble; I probably signed it.)  For the three-hour interstate drive, I had the following:

• Turkey croissant with cheese
• Apple (with knife; always have a knife)
• His Bakery chocolate chip cookie
• Trader Joe’s chocolate chip cookies (just in case)
• Trader Joe’s gluten-free ginger snaps (for gluten free just in case)
• Gardettos (garlic to keep vampires away)
• Pringles (because vampires aren’t real)
• York peppermint patties (because garlic IS real)
• Dark chocolate M&Ms
• Organic Valley chocolate milk
• Water

XY asked if I was EVER coming back. [Author's note: I don't usually eat this trashy. Special occasion only.] While I didn’t intend to become stranded on the side of the interstate for seven weeks, you just never know. I find the same is true of my writing: I never intend to become stranded after I fill out all my plot sheets, but it’s best to have a contingency plan.

I don’t know how the lost woman survived for seven weeks, not knowing what would happen to her, still not knowing what happened to her husband. Maybe she’ll write a book someday. But here’s a little bit about what I’ve learned when I’m lost in my writing, and not in a good way:

Don’t get more lost.

Lost people do walk in circles. Actual scientific studies found that, devoid of locational cues (i.e. blindfolded), walkers will end up going in circles less than 100 feet in diameter.

When I don’t know where I’m going with my story, my writing can become equally cramped and pointless. It’s better for me to stop, orient to my last known position in the story, and then make a new plan before moving forward.

Send up a flare
Sometimes I get so lost in my own head, I just can’t see a way out. I need help. Call the Coast Guard! And make sure the Navy SEAL is hot! (Aren’t they all?) Also, bring more chocolate.

My writer version of a distress beacon/sat phone is a brainstorming session with other writers. A lot of times, I don’t even need them to answer me, really, I just need to talk through the path and lay it out for my own mind’s eye.

Letting someone else know where you are going to be and when you are expected back is always good advice when headed into wild country. I think the same applies to writing; having someone else know what I’m trying to accomplish — with deadline included — helps keep me on track. And they can come calling for me if I haven’t been heard from for awhile.

Use your skills and your senses
There have been several stories in the past few years about unprepared people following their GPS units into trouble. Usually, the trouble starts with nice spring weather that degenerates back into winter as they blunder higher and farther. Sadly in these stories, it seems even the sight of multiple feet of snow doesn’t alert them to trouble. Having all the right tools can’t always keep you safe. Worse, sometimes the tools — whether is GPSs, seat heaters and cell phones or GMC, turning points and high concept — add a false sense of safety.

For example, I’ve learned to smell the snow of the freeze-out that usually hits me in Chapter 7. Even when I plot, Chapter 7 is when I hit my “I’m bored of this story, I see a shiny new idea over there” wall. The story could end right there if I’m not careful.

The adventure in the wilderness of the story is worth a lot of risks, I think. Not foolish risks, of course. Being prepared only makes sense. There will be plenty of unknowns to keep me busy even if I plot every step.

I feel for that lost couple. You don’t usually hear a lot of follow-up to the stories of the lost. Getting found (or not) often seems to be the end of it. For the writer, who will be going out again and again, I always want to know what could be next.

What happens next? I guess that IS the heart of storytelling.

Have you ever been lost, in real life or story life? What did you do?

Currently working on: Light at the end of Book 4
Mood: Dazzled by oncoming train headlight

I’m late on this week’s post about staying motivated (Thursday instead of Monday isn’t toooo late, is it?) because a half-dozen looming deadlines motivated me to run away for a week of blissfully empty-headed camping in the high desert of Oregon.

I love camping and hiking. The simplicity and clarity of a week outdoors frees my mind. More importantly, there is no wifi cloud over Steens Mountain to distract me from vacationing.

There were, however, plenty of cloud-clouds over Steens Mountain. Notice how those clouds are dripping down the peaks toward my blissfully empty-headed self.

From the time the first drop of rain hit our peacefully sleeping, upturned faces at 10:30 pm on our first night (we normally don’t put up the tent and just toss the sleeping bags out under the stars), we knew this particular camping trip was going to require a little more from us than our usual blithe daisy-sniffing.

No, it was clear we’d have to work a little harder to stay motivated, especially once we encountered the rattlesnake:

And then more rain, then sleet, then hail and then snow:

Under such conditions, it can be hard to stay motivated. In fact, you might just want to curl up into a little ball and wait for the frost to melt:

But if you do that, you never make it out of camp. So, staying motivated — whether during mile 8 of a long hike or in the long haul of a big project (like, oh, say, Book 4…) — seems to me to call for many of the same responses:

1. Bring hot cocoa. Lots of hot cocoa.
Oh come on, you knew I was going to say that first. Little marshmallows are optional, but highly recommended.

2. Rock the proper footwear.
In the case of writing, you need thick socks and maybe slippers.  When desert hiking, solid boots (thick enough to take a rattlesnake strike, for example) are best.  When crossing semi-freezing, hail/sleet/snow-fed streams… Well, sometimes you just have to suck it up and run across in your bare feet and shriek while your nerve endings turn to popsickles. Sometimes good fortune and preparation must be replaced with dumb fortitude:

3. Have a hint of an idea where you are going.
Staying motivated is easier if you kinda know where you are going and how to get there. Having a map, a compass, and an emergency transponder beacon so the Mounties can come rescue your ass can keep your spirits up when the way gets dark.

It’s also good to stop and look up once and awhile. When you’re on the long slog, sometimes you find you’ve been staring down at your mud-covered boots for miles and have no idea where you’ve been or what’s head. Take a break, eat some chocolate (hey, why not?) and look around you.

4. Enjoy the successes.
Eventually the miles and the rains do end, and the sun comes out, and you can see what you’ve been working toward. Revel in it. Cuz you got a long walk back.

5. Dream big.
On our camping trips, we only have a week, so we make every moment count.  Not rain nor rattlesnakes can stop us. (Maybe briefly sidetrack us, but you understand.) Want it — and want it bad — and power your motivation on that desire. Feel it like the warmth of a sleeping bag as the sun goes down. Smell it like sun-heated pine trees. Taste it like hot cocoa with little marshmallows. Only you can walk the miles to where you want to be.

Currently working on: Unpacking from the Romance Writers of America 2010 national conference
Mood: Mouse earred

Last week’s RWA con was — as usual — fun and exhausting, full of shrieking and passion and laying around the Walt Disney Dolphin pool. In short, it would make an excellent reality television show, which just so happens to be this week’s topic.

Due to the crappy reception in the basement where my TV resides, I don’t get to watch many shows. (Plus, there are no Joss Whedon shows to tempt me.) But since I got to meet two of my three fellow S&S bloggers at #rwa10 (following the Twitter hash tag was like experiencing the con through dragonfly eyes — from dozens of different vantage points) I can now imagine the “characters” that would exist in a reality TV show “written” about romance writers at a conference.

The Pretty Girl
The Pretty Girl will be Kim Lenox, who I hardly got to see because she was so popular and dresses nice.

The Smart Girl
The Smart Girl will be played by Sharon Ashwood, who I passed many times in deep conversations that probably involved demons and esoterica.

The Tough Girl
Annette McCleave will be the Tough Girl, because she was the missing quadrant of S&S, and she must have a will of iron to resist the event horizon allure of 2000+ romance writers amassed in one location.

Additional characters will include:

The Wild Child
Played by Monica Kaye, who gets everybody into trouble with her tweets about the lickability of a certain well-known agent. (Those erotica writers; you can’t take them anywhere… without a ball gag.)

The Slut
Everyone group household has one, you know, so ours will be Delilah Marvelle, whose naughty historical bits are on display EVERYwhere but mostly on her blog.

The Token Male
Just as a BFK (Bailey’s, Frangelico and Kahlua mixed into hot cocoa mix or coffee) is enhanced by a shot of whipping cream, estrogen is even more fun with a side of testosterone, so we’ll bring Andrew Shaffer for walk-on/run off appearances.

And lastly, I suppose, we’ll have the Weird One. And that’d be me.

In case you doubt the potential wackiness of a reality TV show based on romance writers, check out this pic of the 500-author-strong book fair:

Oh yeah, that’s drama.  In addition to meeting up with friends and chatting with colleagues, I also scored a bunch of signed books which we’ll be parceling out through the summer, starting with Jessica Andersen‘s DEMONKEEPERS plus an ARC of her latest, BLOOD SPELLS.

Just leave a comment anytime this week and you’ll be entered for a chance to win Jessica’s books. To get the party started, which character would you like to be in any popular reality television show?

Currently working on: Unpacking from RomCon
Mood: Sleepy

This week’s topic is “The vacation untaken” (sort of a spin on Robert Frost’s ”The Road Not Taken,” perhaps, if you’re feeling poetical) but I thought I’d mention the trip I DID just take — the first annual RomCon romance readers convention.

I headed out to Denver Colorado early Friday morning. The sun is not up at 4:15, in case you were curious.  The picture below — taken from the car on the way to the airport — is a good visual representation of my oracular and mental functioning at 4:15 a.m.:

The pale fuzzy squiggle at the top is the moon.  Poor moon.

The convenient part of arriving at the airport so early is that I had time to visit the three Powell’s Books in the various concourses.  And lo and behold…

Liam’s fine (and signed!) butt could become airborne at any moment.  Much thanks to the Powell’s employees who were waaay more awake than me and helped me find my copies.

I took a nap on the plane and that was the last sleep for the weekend. I roomed with the always wickedly delightful Delilah Marvelle, who brought her infamous penis candy to give away by the handsful. (Well, not handsful, really; they were very tiny penises.)

The party started right away with workshop and events and author/reader chats. It was a convivial group. As one reader told me, she had come to the convention by herself but she felt completely comfortable finding an empty seat at dinner, knowing that everyone there was a fellow romance reader. If ever the conversation lagged (and trust me, it did not) one simple question could restart the talk for hours: “What do you read?”

My favorite events included:

Betwixt & Between Paranormal Tea: Paranormal romance authors and readers gathered for cookies and chatting.

Monster Charades: Despite being held at 10 a.m. (that’s almost as early as 4:14 a.m.!) on Saturday, the guessing-game of paranormal authors, titles, series, characters and creatures was huge fun.  Thanks (and I mean that sarcastically) to author Carolyn Crane for coming up with some baffling stumpers that had us laughing through the guessing.

Build-a-Hero Workshop: The dark fae we created — Shikar of the magic hands — somehow lost out to the historical hero Sir Rochester, but we love him still.  I was supposed to bring home the whiteboard where we’d written his description (including his… um, manly measurements) but I lost it at the Denver airport on the way home!  Someone there is going to be very confused.  Luckily, we took good notes:

And a close-up of the final version, written in the preternaturally tidy script of Elizabeth:

Thanks to Sabrina for forwarding me the pictures!  And thanks to author Meagan Hatfield, especially for coming up with our team name: Team Awesome!  We were, weren’t we?

I think the brightest highlight for me was the chance to sit with Nalini Singh, Christine Feehan and C.L. Wilson on a paranormal author panel.  Can you imagine?  Sitting next to those stars?  In comparison, I looked a little like that fuzzy moon I posted earlier!  But I felt very much at ease because they are among the nicest people in the world (or most other worlds you can imagine).  The fact they write the stories that rock MY world is the frosting-and-sprinkles on the cupcake of my glee!

(If you’re on Twitter and want a blow-by-blow account, you can scroll back through #romcon for commentary.)

Last and best, I had the chance to meet readers, a few of whom had even read my stories   What a trip!  I was on Cloud 9.  Actually, I was above Cloud 9 and just a little to the north of Mt. Hood (thanks to Southwest Airlines and their two free bags policy which allowed me to bring 100 lbs. of giveaways and snacks):

The event is in the planning stages for next year in Denver. I’ll post word here as soon as I hear what’s up. I’d love to meet some Silk And Shadows readers at RomCon 2011!

Meanwhile, I brought home a few books.  Honestly, just a few.  But the highlight… I have a signed copy of Nalini Singh’s ANGEL’S BLOOD!   It’s the first book in her Guild Hunter series and you do NOT want to be left behind on this one.  Just leave a comment on any post this week and you’ll be entered for a chance to win.  I’ll warn you now, you’ll want to go get your copy of the second book, ARCHANGEL’S KISS, before you start reading.  Yes, it is that good.

What do you think?  Would you be interested in attending a romance readers’ convention?  Which author would you most want to meet?

Currently working on: Staying on top of the raspberry and snow pea harvest
Mood: Wondering how many dishes include both raspberries AND snow peas…

So we’re halfway through the year.  (Well, halfway plus a little bit, but I’m always behind.)  This is usually when I pull out my New Year’s Resolutions, laugh hysterically, and reassess.  What are my NEW New Half Year’s Resolutions?

When I look at what I have to get done before the end of the year, the hysteria becomes more pronounced and other living beings in my household find heavy objects to find under.  But the trick is always first things first.  So in honor of this week’s blog topic of “My next project,” I bring you my first task: Announcing the winner of last week’s Ava Gray SKIN GAME giveaway.  Random.org picked:

Spav, who is distracted by Twitter. Aren’t we all?  Congrats, Spav, and thanks to all who commented.

Now, onto the next task…

I’ll be attending RomCon, a new convention for romance readers and writers, in a couple weeks (which, like the end of the year, is coming faster than I anticipate, I know).  I’m very much looking forward to stalking some of my favorite authors, hanging with friends, chatting with readers, and signing books.  If you live in Denver or have friends, family or Facebook acquaintances who live in Denver or anywhere in the Rockies for that matter, come join us!  The giant book fair is open to the public. Details:

RomCon
Crowne Plaza Denver Airport
15500 East 40th Avenue, Denver, CO
Saturday, July 10, Noon Book Fair
Meet Jo Beverley, Christine Feehan, Julia Quinn, Lori Foster, Meljean Brook, Nalini Singh, Carly Phillips, Susan Mallery, Melissa Mayhue, Catherine Anderson, Jodi Thomas and dozens of other fabulous authors [Note from Jessa: You'll see I am not a listed author at this point in my life, but at least I am fabulous] our multi-author booksigning sponsored by Borders. Bring up to 3 books from your own library for your favorite author to sign!

But before I go, I have to finish writing a short story from the world of the Marked Souls.  It’s the possession story of Corvus Valerius.  I’m going to give away limited edition prints of the story at RomCon before I post it to my website.  If you want a copy (when I finally finish it) email your snail mail addy to jessa at jessaslade dot com with the subject line: Corvus.

Writing his story has been harder than I thought it would be.  Okay, all writing is harder for me than I think it will be.  But Corvus’s tale is especially hard because… Well, as soon as I started writing him, he became my hero. 

There’s a saying among writers: Every villain is the hero of his own story.  That’s been true of Corvus through the first two books of the Marked Souls and it’s even more true when we see how he gave in to temptation — and his demon.  What do you think, does evil always believe itself in the right, or sometimes does evil just say, hell yeah I’m evil?

I’m also running a contest/asking a favor/assigning you an enviable task at my personal blog.  I need to find a royalty free picture of Corvus for the cover of the short story.  If somebody finds a shot I can use, she’ll get a signed copy of SEDUCED BY SHADOWS or FORGED OF SHADOWS.  You can read the details here. 

See you (hopefully) in Denver!

I’ve been lucky to have traveled a few places outside of my native Canada. My dad was in the military, so we spent four years in Germany when I was a kid. That allowed me to visit the top of the Eiffel tower, sun on a beach in Spain, and ski the Swiss Alps. No kidding. Of course, I was under ten years of age at the time, so it wasn’t the experience you might think. Still, it made the notion of exotic locales attainable in my mind.

In later years, under my own steam, I watched the sunset on Waikiki Beach, traipsed the halls of Cawdor Castle, and rode a camel in the Australian Outback. Yes, there are camels in Australia. Imported, of course.

Cawdor Castle, Scotland

When it came to choosing the primary setting for my Soul Gatherer series, I ventured south, but not as far south as you might imagine. I chose San Jose, California. Why? Because I knew my heroine worked for a high tech firm and San Jose is in Silicon Valley. I also knew my villain hid in the mountains, so I wanted a town or city tucked in close to the hills—yet not too far away from the big city.

San Jose is perfect. Fairly quiet crime-wise, yet big enough to have regular city problems to disguise the activities of my nasty demons. The terrain of the nearby hills (where my Gatherers eventually set up a base) is rugged and yet charming, not unlike the warriors themselves.

Lake Almaden, San Jose, California

My hero Lachlan ventures into San Francisco a time or two, and travels down the coast to San Diego. He also visits Death in her ice cave cathedral in Antarctica. Antarctica is the perfect backdrop for Death—icy cold, ruthlessly bitter, and yet incredibly beautiful.

My daughter and I made the 21-hour journey out to Australia, because we both wanted to go and she had wanted to visit since she was the ripe old age of two. It was the trip of a lifetime. Is there one place you wish you visit but never have? Have you ever read a book that took you there?

Currently working on: Teaser prequel for SEDUCED BY SHADOWS
Mood: Ahead of myself

I am now contracted for four novels of the Marked Souls, so I am booked until 2011 and I’ll be writing like a fiend for most of that time.  Plus, the first book is coming out in October, and I’m get ready to knuckle down to the next two months of intense non-writing writing life stuff like promotions, book signings, and inventing new ways to avoid vacuuming.  So I’ve been thinking about whether my writing space serves me as well now that I’m a working writer.

I’ve posted this picture before, but let’s review.  Here is my office as it is today:

With the exception of the large mammal who isn’t me sitting at on the desk, overall this is a serviceable space.  It has all the key writerly pieces: A computer and a chair.  And Super Glue in the top front drawer.  Plus, it has a few extras: A cabinet to hold my junk, stacking cubbies to hold my more immediately necessary junk (dictionary, thesaurus, my writer’s altar, more Super Glue), inspirational art, and various writing buddies like my dog and geckos.

I know many writers crammed into closets and carving out chunks of the kitchen table every night who would be happy to have my space (with the possible exception of the dog) and so I am profoundly grateful to have it.

However…

I’m thinking I might need something more inspirational, considering all the pressure I’m under.  Maybe I need a satellite office.  Maybe somewhere warm and sunny…

Okay, maybe not.  The potential for distraction — not to mention a serious sunburn, always a consideration for the pasty, stuck-at-the-desk types – is too high.  And I need something with a little more discipline.  Maybe someplace like…

Right.  Those walls are kind of helpful, holding in all the good ideas, concentrating my concentration.  But there’s still something a little off about this set up…

Ah, there we go.  Now the walls are on the right side.  The perfect office for the working writer.

Except somebody left the door open…

How about you?  Whether you are a writer, a quilter, a mom, or whatever, do you need freedom or discipline to get your work done?  Does the view out your window inspire you or distract you?  Or is it all a matter of balance?

When I was a teen, I had the opportunity to spend a week in Vail, Colorado, babysitting my cousins on a ski vacation.  It was awesome.  I’d never been downhill skiing before, and I got to take classes and accompany my aunt and uncle and the kids (who were waaaay better than me) on some of the easier runs.

If you’ve ever been skiing in Colorado, I don’t need to describe it, but for the rest of you, I will just say: Heaven. Celestial blue skies. The softest, whitest, downy snow. An intense and all-encompassing feeling of floating and joy. (When I wasn’t yard sale-ing — or we could say sailing — across half the slope.)

{This photo of a $2800/night mountain-side chalet is NOT where we stayed; but the beauty is the same, free, and everywhere.}

One night near the end of our stay, my aunt and uncle had gone for a nice dinner and the kids were asleep. I stepped out onto the balcony.  Our room faced a walkway through the pines, with the pale bulk of the mountain beyond.  It was late, but the reflection of hotel lights off the snow made the night glow.  Drifting snowflakes (like the rain in the fairy world of Summerland, I swear it only snowed at night in Vail) glimmered like falling stars in the dark.

I thought, This is where I want to be.

Fast forward, oh, about seven years. 

That last serene image of Vail had stayed with me over time and distances. I would conjure it up in my head when I was stressed about finals in college, when I was studying abroad, and at my first less than inspiring full-time job.

One day, looking through want-ads, I saw an opening at a newspaper in Vail, Colorado.  And I made my daydream a reality.

Later, I read books about manifesting your reality. I read how your brain — trapped in a cage of bone and goo — has no way to experience the “real” world except through your senses. If you can imagine something clearly enough — see it, hear it, smell it, touch it, taste it — as far as your brain is concerned, that’s reality.  Eventually, your imagination can become reality.

Run amok, this process leads to mental illness, true.  But since we’re using our powers for good…

Daydream + Action plan + Perserverance = Your shiny new reality

Daydreams without the other two elements are perfectly lovely, of course.  A few minute’s mental vacation on a snowy mountain night is entirely enough.  Not everybody wants to turn that into living in a ski bum town for two years, paying $700 a month to sleep in a heated shed (no bathroom) between two single-wide trailers for the honor of coming up with another sudden illness every time the fresh powder falls.  Sometimes even shiny new realities aren’t quite the same as the daydream.

But I think the power of a daydream to relax and revive and delight us is the knowledge that it could become so much more, given the right circumstances and impetus.

After all, writing started as a daydream for me.

My new daydreaming escape is also based on an old family vacation.  When I was young, my parents took my sister and me to St. Johns in the Virgin Islands.  (And, yes, what my sheltered suburban upbringing sadly lacked in future source material for lurid angsty tell-alls, it more than made up for in loving, generous family members who believed new experiences were more important than stuff.)  The Caribbean was, to my imagination, as epic as Vail in its own way.  I’d never been snorkeling before, but oddly, the ocean was the same color as the Colorado sky.

One evening, we walked through town on one of the islands. The sky had turned a peachy red fading to blue, the colors echoed in the hanging baskets of flowers.  The air was as perfectly warm as the water, at once decadent and pure. 

I could as easily have been a beach bum as a ski bum.  Just sayin.’

One of these days, I’ll make it back to that island, and then I’ll need a new, new daydream. But for now, I’m savoring every minute in paradise.

When you daydream, is it about old places, or places you’ve never been?

When I first broached the subject of a winter vacation, my two sets of heroes and heroiones were beside themselves with excitement and their houses were thrown into uproars. Traveling outfits had to be aired, the trunks hauled down from the attic, the carriages cleaned and waxed and the horses readied. Then they all scurried into their respective libraries to pore over the maps. Hmm, where to go? Bearing in mind all the possible hot spots of war, disease and famine, the British Empire in the 1830s offered a veritable world of choices. India, the Middle East, Africa, Canada, the West Indies, Austrialia….the possibilities were endless…

And then reality set in. Whether they chose the spicy streets of Bombay, the tent-shrouded deserts of Arabia, or the relaxation of a balmy, breezy Caribbean plantation, how the devil would they get there? Cause baby, trains, planes and automobiles were just not an option in 1830! It would take another decade plus before trains became an accepted mode of transportation and forget about cushy cruise lines. Travel by ship meant hitching a ride on a commercial sailing vessel — crowded and uncomfortable and you want to talk about the rigors of a winter crossing? Not to mention another thing not invented in 1830: Dramamine!!!

Look like fun? Blurfff!

You know, there’s a reason people tended to stay tucked away on their country estates during the winter, and holing up in Cornwall is beginning to look a whole lot more attractive to Chad, Sophie, Grayson and Nora. I mean, they’re already ahead of the game being in the warmest part of England, and there’s a lot to be said for cuddling and sipping hot port by a roaring fire while the ocean tosses and the snow flies. I think there are times when Dorothy was right, there’s no place like home. Besides, in just a few short weeks the quality folk will start pouring back into London for another exciting, fun-filled, scandal-ridden Season. And as another old saying goes, when you’ve grown tired of London, you’ve grown tired of life. So why go anywhere else?

I have to say it’s a toss up for me between London and New York. What city do you think is the most exciting in the world?

A sultry island breeze wafts in the window, billowing the curtain. The room is dark, except for the silver wash of moonlight that spills across the terracotta floor tiles. Under the swath of mosquito netting covering the double bed, Lachlan pulls Rachel a little tighter against his chest … and waits. After four hundred years of soul gathering, he’s developed an uncanny ability to sense impending messages from Death.

Sure enough, the Blackberry on the nightstand begins to vibrate.

He snatches it, doing his best not to disturb the woman whose long legs are entwined with his, whose soft breaths stir the hairs on his chest. They had a full day—walking along the beach, hunting for souvenirs in the village marketplace, windsurfing in the cove, and dining on fresh sea bass. Unlike him, Rachel is human. She needs her sleep.

A glance at the electronic screen confirms what he already knows: a Gatherer doesn’t get vacations. In an alley behind the local rum bar, a drunken tourist is about to be mugged. Judgment impaired by alcohol, the sunburned Canadian accountant will foolishly fight to keep his wallet and end up losing his life. Lachlan used to try to save such men, but Death is ruthless and persevering. When she marks a human, they die.

He kisses the top of Rachel’s head, then carefully untangles himself and rolls off the bed. He dresses quickly, donning black jeans and a black long-sleeved shirt. With an ease that speaks to his experience, he straps a leather baldric across his broad shoulders and slides his claidheamh mòr into the sheath. Warded by ancient Romany magic, the weapon immediately vanishes from sight. Ready, he crosses to the window, then pauses to look back at Rachel.

His job is not to save the tourist’s life, but to save his soul. For every soul destined for heaven, there’s a demon thief determined to waylay it into hell, and with every gather, there’s a chance the Gatherer won’t return.

A faint smile curves Lachlan’s lips.

He promised to take Rachel scuba-diving on the reef in the morning. Even if he’s ambushed tonight by a horde of vicious martial demons, there’s no way he’ll disappoint her.

He leaps out the window, drops soundlessly to the hotel lawn thirty feet below, and merges with the shadows.

This is a little scene I wrote to imagine my characters from Drawn into Darkness on ‘vacation’. It’s written in present tense, but don’t worry, the book is standard past tense. Enjoy!