15 December 2016

Oops…that’s not what I sat down to write

I’ve been asked dozens of times if I’m a plotter or a pantser (which means I write by the seat of my pants). I’ve often described myself as a plotzer. I try to plot but end up winging the words.
The truth is, my muse is just out-and-out insane, and I’m at his mercy. Sometimes he tells me what’s coming. Other times he prefers to surprise me. A couple of months ago, Mr. Muse shocked me by telling me about this average, contemporary hero named Boone.
Now my muse and I don’t write contemporaries. As a life-long medievalist with interests solidly fixed in the 12th century, a contemporary was never a blip on my radar, much less an option. So, I said no.
He kept whispering.
I ignored him.
He woke me at 3 a.m.
I threatened to eunuch him. He promised me the key to the five-book historical series I’ve been struggling to write for a few years now.
He won. I following his crooked path and found a contemporary novella at the end of it. 
In Something Promised, Boone Robertson and Eden Rivers have to confront injury, greed, and ghosts before finding a future. Even then, a future together isn’t guaranteed. The story is still in development and I haven’t even looked for a publisher but it’s interesting to write about people who aren’t trying to save the kingdom—or the world—they are just trying to find what we all want: someone to love and laugh with.
I find myself excited and challenged by the story’s very normalness (but I’m still holding Mr. Muse to his promise for the historical series).

Mom is naked again.” 
Eden Rivers tripped up the old step, dropping her walking pole in the stumble. She grabbed the rail. Splinters dug into her palm. Balancing on one foot, she caught her breath and waited for the pain to fade. 
“No need to be so dramatic,” her sister said as she snatched up the walking stick. "Did you hear what I said?"
Eden tentatively shifted her weight. No pain. Well, no more than usual.  
“Mom is weeding the yard au natural.” Savannah Rivers-Knott slipped the iPhone into her back pocket. “She is getting more ridiculous as she gets older, not less.” 
“Front or back?” Eden asked. 
“Is she gardening in the front or back yard?” 
Savannah wrinkled her upper lip. “Does it matter?” 
“If she’s in the front yard, we tell her to stop before she causes an accident on 68. In the back, we tell Old Lady Pratt to mind her own business.”

Keena Kincaid is the author of four, full-length romance novels set in 12th century England, as well as several novellas in the same period. Her books are available from Amazon and other online outlets. You also can fan or friend her on Facebook and follow her on Twitter.

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