Top 100 Romance Novels

I found a story last night, one I flew into at the time and churned out 17,000 words of it. Then, I abandoned it. I ‘know’ why I did this time, though. It’s a Fantasy novel, something I don’t publish in. Or I haven’t. My thinking was…you don’t write fantasy. Stop wasting time. So, I did. I ‘shelved’ the story and moved on. I opened it up last night, after seeing it sitting there covered with ‘dust’ and gave it a read. It was good. So good in fact, I wrote more. I woke this morning thinking about it, even. That’s a good sign, I think. The muse wants more so, I may just give him what he wants. Here, take a peek at my fantasy romance, THE WARLORD. (note: this has not be edited so any weird stuff is completely mine. Oh, and please don't steal my work! It is copyrighted. Thank you.)

The Warlord by Lily Graison
copyright 2010

The noise died the minute he stepped inside the tent.

The stench of unwashed bodies was stifling. He looked at the warriors staring at him and clasped his hands behind his back. “I trust there’s a good reason you’ve woke the entire encampment, myself included.”

No one spoke. He glanced at every face, watched as they shifted on their feet and looked at each other. His irritation grew when no one answered him. “Well!”

“Forgive us, Warlord.”

Jorrick looked at the only man brave enough to speak. His head was bowed, his gaze focused on the floor. “And what exactly shall I forgive you for?”

The man glanced up briefly and looked to the others before speaking. “We’ve had a bit much of the sprits tonight.”

“It’s nearly dawn,” Jorrick bit out angrily. “I dare not think you’re still celebrating.”

His ire was growing in their silence. Covert glances at each other weren’t missed and he turned his head, looking at the men gathered. Ten at least filled the tent and all had guilty expressions on their faces.

He spotted Hagan and resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He should have known he’d be there. “Hagan,” he said. “Explain.”

Hagan looked to his left and Jorrick followed his gaze. The majority of men hovered in the corner, their shoulders nearly touching. He watched them curiously as they shifted on their feet.

“We’re just having a bit of sport, my Lord.”

“Sport,” Jorrick said, raising an eyebrow. “With what, may I ask?”

A strangled grunt and clank of metal was heard before Hagan could respond. A harsh curse from one of the men echoed in the small space before one man fell to his knees, an unmanly yelp following him to the ground before he scrambled away on all fours. The remaining men in the corner scattered a moment later, giving Jorrick a glimpse of a small huddled form that stood quickly, sword in hand.

His eyes widened when he saw what they’d been hiding.

“I demand to be set free! You have no right to hold me here!”

“We were just having a bit of fun,” Hagan said. “We weren’t going to...”

“Silence,” Jorrick said, softly, raising a hand. He stared into the darkness of the corner. The light from the lamps glinted off the sword but even with the dim shadows concealing the form he could clearly see what roused his men.

A woman. The first he’d seen in three snows.

Jorrick took a step toward her and stopped when she stumbled back against the tent wall.

“Don’t come closer,” she said, holding her sword at eye level. “I wish only to leave.”

The sword she held wavered, the tip bouncing slightly. She was trembling, he realized. Jorrick could see it in the sword she held and hear it in the quiver of her voice.

He ignored her command and closed the distance between them, watching her lean back against the tent wall. When he was close enough to see her eyes, the terror reflecting back at him was the only thing he noticed. “How long have you held her here, Hagan?” When he didn’t receive a response, he turned his head. Every warrior in the tent was staring at the floor. Their silence told him all he needed to know. He turned back to face her and was surprised to find the sword tip pointed at his throat.

“You cannot hold me here,” she said. “I wish to be released. My cousin is within this camp. I want him found now.”

He ignored her request and strained his eyes in the low light to see her. She was bathed in shadows, her features stolen. Her hair was long, tumbling over one shoulder in waves but he couldn’t tell its color. She was small, tiny compared to the warriors he was used to seeing. How had she come to be here? “Where did you come from?” Jorrick asked. He raised one eyebrow and leaned back when the tip of the sword bit into his flesh.

“That is of no concern.”

“But it is,” he said. “You’re the first women these men have seen in three winters. Where you come from is quite important.”

“She is from Verisha.”

Jorrick turned his head when someone spoke and he heard the woman gasp a moment later. A warrior stood at the tent entrance looking at him.

“Dalek!”

“Quiet, Brielle,” Dalek said, walking into the tent.

Jorrick turned back to the woman. “You’re from Verisha?” he said. He studied her, his gaze roaming her slight form covered in shadows. She was looking at the warrior at the entrance and he used her distraction to grab the sword blade. It nicked his throat as he jerked it from her hand and her wide, startled eyes met his moments later.

“Yes, warlord,” Dalek said. “We seek only shelter.”

Giving the woman a final look, Jorrick turned his back to her, tossed the sword away and faced the man. “And who are you?”

Dalek bowed low, keeping his gaze lowered. “Dalek. Nephew to Heszer, King of Verisha.”

“The king is dead,” he said. “Or so we’ve been told.”

“Yes,” Dalek said. “He was lost to the plague but his daughter, the princess was not.” He rose and glanced at the woman before looking back at him. “If I could have a private audience with you, warlord, I will explain everything.”

Jorrick studied the man before him, watching him stare between him and the woman at his back. “Galen,” he said, turning his head to look at his first. “Take the woman to my tent. Stay with her. I’ll be there once I’ve settled things here.”

“Absolutely not!” Brielle said. “I’m not leaving without Dalek.”

“Quiet, Brielle,” Dalek said, throwing her a heated look.

Jorrick glanced over his shoulder at her when she gasped. He couldn’t see her features for the dim shadows but her outrage was evident in her posture.

When Galen stepped in behind him, he turned to face him. “See that she’s comfortable,” he said. “Dalek, I’ll meet you outside when I’ve finished with these men.”

So...that’s a little peek of the fantasy novel I’ve had sitting collecting dust. What do you think? Worth exploring or not?

I’m not a plotter. Never have been. I’ve been writing since 2002 and I’ve never used an outline. I write by the seat of my pants most of the time and with this story, that wasn’t working. I was stuck. I couldn’t move forward like I always did. I ‘had’ to write a plot outline middle way through the book. Problem with an outline is…my muse balks. He refuses to write to spec. It’s why I never outline to begin with. If I know how a story plays out, chapter by chapter, then why take the time to write the thing? I’ve always written for myself. I write what I want to read and if I know how it all goes down, then why bother? Well, my lovely readers are the reason but that isn’t enough to plant my butt in a chair. I want to be surprised and shocked along with everyone else. And most of the time I am.

But this story was different. I’m not even sure why. I suppose its because I envisioned one thing and my characters were having none of it. They stalled... refused to speak to me and so, the story sat…taunting me for months. I finally threw out the outline and crept along a few hundred words at a time.

Needless to say, after much head banging and frustration, the book is done. WELL…let me rephrase that. LOL The 1st draft is done! I still have a few rewrites to do. My final battle needs work. Or I think it does. I won’t know until I can read back over what I’ve written from beginning to end which will be a daunting task. The final book ended up at 288 pages. It’ll take a while to read through all of that but…I’d rather be reading, and enjoying it, than still struggling to write it! I ‘may’ just make my deadline after all.

I was working on THE GATHERING when my daughter showed up with youngest grandbaby in tow. Lucas is 16 months old and has a head full of hair. Being the beauty school dropout that I am, I pulled out my kit and cut his hair. When they’d gone and I got back to my computer, I told Candy (my writer/chat buddy) why it had taken so long to get back to the computer. When she found out I was a beauty school dropout, she innocently suggested I write a story involving a beauty shop since I had the knowledge. Now, I can see you rolling your eyes already…what’s so exciting about a beauty shop, right? It’s not the beauty shop that’s interesting; it’s the ladies inside that are. (Think…Steel Magnolias. The characters are what MADE that movie. I’ll try to reproduce that magic when I get around to starting this one.) I won’t go any further than that. No need to spoil the entire thing before I have a word written, right? Me and Candy spent a good half hour throwing out ideas and I have a full page of notes…I even have a story blurb. This will be a contemporary romance when it’s done…and humorous. Our poor hero isn’t going to know what’s hit him by the time these ladies are finished with him! Every woman in town will make it their mission to make his life miserable...including our heroine. I see fun times with this story. It’s been a while since I wrote something lighthearted and fun. It’ll be a nice change. But first...I have to finish THE GATHERING so I'm off to write. Happy Sunday!

Still working on the sequel to my werewolf story The Calling. THE GATHERING (title for the sequel), is driving me insane. It's sucking the life out of me. LOL Nothing is working like I thought it would and my projected word count has surpassed that and is still going. Good news for those who want more of the story but not so good for me. I'm behind...my deadline is looming closer (April release date - I HOPE!)and I have major re-writes to contend with. And these characters! They've hijacked my story, I do believe. What's a writer to do but follow and hope they know where they're going? Bullying them did me little good. The story stalled for over 2 months. Letting them have their way was the only thing that got the words flowing again.

I've been inching through the days with a few hundred words here and there and I 'think' I have 4 more scenes to write. These should be easier than the last several. The fight scenes and the final confrontation with my bad guys have really done a number on my muse (ME)! I just want it done but rushing it would be the worst mistake I could make.

Sorry to keep everyone who has been waiting on this hanging. It's been almost a year now, I know, but the wait will be worth it. Promise!

Now, enough whining and complaining. Nothing to do about it but keep going. Wish me luck!

As I look back, I realize I didn’t get very much accomplished.

- My self-imposed reading book challenge only yielded 75 books. I missed my goal of 100, again. We’ll start over today and ‘try’ to get to 100 this year. I’ve missed it 2 years in a row now and I read less in 2010 than I did in 2009.

- I only released 1 book (2 if you count a re-release) and that is unacceptable to me. I let too many things distract me in 2010. I’m a procrastinator and I know I need to get a handle on that.

- Social media is a time suck I plan to remedy. Not that I don’t love talking to my readers but when I spend all my time talking, that leaves very little for writing. Hence me only releasing 1 book.

I have a full schedule planned for the New Year with a new, 5 book, series planned in a genre I haven’t written before. Historical westerns. I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE reading them and writing them has been fun. I just hope the momentum can carry me through to the end of each book. But first, I’ll finish THE GATHERING and ignore my muse when he demands another story in my Breed Series. He’s already whispering to me to tell Bryce’s story. We’ll see how long I can hold him off.

So, to 2011…here’s to health, wealth and prosperity. To always finding that perfect book to escape into, to being surrounded by friends and loved ones and always looking at the bright side. Life is too short to dwell on the negative so Live like you’re dying and enjoy every minute of it.

Happy New Year!

Lily

I pulled up the page today and set it for 1,000 words and began. I pushed myself, typing as fast as my short little fingers would allow and, 31 minutes later, I had 1,201 words! I was stoked. Proud of my accomplishment I immediately hit the 'Tweet' this icon so it would post my 'score' on twitter for all the world to see. Of course, in my excitement of having met my word goal in 30 minutes, I stupidly didn't 'copy' the text so when it flashed to Twitter....My Text Was Gone!! All 1,201 beautiful words. GONE. *sigh*

So, here I sit at 12:15 am, staring at my word doc, which should have been 1,200 words stronger and it isn't. I have to re-type everything I wrote today and my muse is in such a state of shock, he's refusing. I know what's supposed to be there, I even remember most of the words yet, I'm blogging instead of retyping those lost words. I did say I had a problem with procrastination, didn't I? Yeah. So, Write or Die lives up to its name. It 'IS' evil in the foulest form! Yet, I know I'll continue to use it. But you can bet your sweet bottom I'll remember to SAVE next time!

Those little plot bunnies that love to visit me drop a new story into my lap on a monthly basis, sometimes more than one. In my attempt to clean up this messy desk, I found story ideas I had completely forgotten about. In genres I haven’t even published in. I’m not sure what to do with those. I have 2 fantasy novels (that genre I haven’t published in), both started, a handful of contemporaries, another paranormal not to mention all the westerns I have extensive notes on. I haven’t counted the number of projects yet. I’m almost scared to. The 6 I have so far is enough to keep me busy for a few years. I’m almost scared to think of how many other stories those little plot bunnies will drop on me. One thing is for sure. I’ll never be out of ideas. They pile up faster than I can organize them. Now, if I could just clean off this desk!

I’m not sure why it is that people think, just because they know you, that they are owed something. Would they work for months on end, every day, even weekends, and hand their paycheck (paid once every quarter) out to every person they know? I don’t think so. Yet, that’s exactly what I do, basically. Well, I don’t hand them money but every book I ‘hand out’ IS money to me. Every .99cent book given away is .99cent I don’t get. Don’t even get me started on those books that cost $4.99 that I hand out.

I have no ‘public’ job to speak of. The last real job I held was hit like so many in this country and shut down, laying off every employee they had, me included. Writing IS my job now. My sole income comes from the royalties I receive and believe me, I’m not getting rich writing. Most authors don’t unless you have a name that rhymes with Steven King, Nora Roberts or J.K. Rowling, to name a few. Yet, my friends/family think me handing them a book doesn’t hurt me. It does. It hurts my bottom line. The months (or year) it took me to write the book they want is for nothing. But they don’t see it that way.

I’ve heard the same excuses I saw in the original post, they have no money being the most favored, yet, they’ll spend costless dollars in Walmart on junk. Giving me .99cent for a book ‘they want’ is too much to ask of them. I’m supposed to smile and just hand over my work like I enjoy giving my ‘time’ away. What’s a measly .99cents, anyway? When I hand that same book to 20 friends, that’s roughly $20.00. Give that many away of my $4.99 book? We’re looking at nearly $100.00!

I guess the real question is, do I continue to ‘hand out’ those books and keep my friends or do I hurt their feelings, make them pay and possibly lose them as a friend in the process? I guess one could argue that if they don't want to be my friend after being denied, they weren’t a real friend anyway. True, I suppose. Still doesn’t make it any easier to look someone in the face and tell them no.

So, what do you think? Should I just ‘grow a pair’ and start dishing out heaping handfuls of NO or just suck it up, keep my friends and seethe in private at their lack of support?