Snippet, Djinn and Sin

Trying to get this turned in by the end of the month. Since that’s tomorrow, Djinn is more of why I’m not blogging. But enjoy the snippet!


Djinn and Sin

copyright 2009 Charlene Teglia

All Rights Reserved

 "Tell me," the whisper commanded. "Tell me what you wish for and I will grant it."

"I wish," Sara said. She paused and laughed. The eighty-hour work weeks were getting to her. But who cared if she talked to herself? There wasn’t anybody to hear it. "What do I really wish? I wish I wasn’t alone right now. It can’t happen because I don’t have time for a relationship and one night stands aren’t safe, but I want a man to do things to me that I’ll still be blushing over a year from now. Things I’ve only read about in the Kama Sutra. And I want him to do them to me all night long."

"Granted." There was a triumphant ring to the voice that abruptly sounded so real and so close, it made Sara open her eyes.

Some sort of smoke billowed from her beautiful bottle. It stung her eyes and throat, like she’d suddenly released a cloud of incense. Then the smoke cleared away and a naked muscled giant stood there, feet planted confidently apart, on her pink fluffy bath matt.

Sara let out an involuntary squeak and ducked under the inadequate protection of the bath bubbles. She’d only had one glass of wine. Was it contaminated with hallucinogens?

"Shall I begin by bathing you?" The voice went on, as if nothing unusual had happened. As if she hadn’t snapped and started hallucinating naked giants. Sara opened one eye to take another peak. Well-hung naked giants. Her imagination impressed her, even if it was a deranged imagination.

"Sure," she muttered, closing both eyes tightly again. "And then you can call the nice men with the white jackets to come and take me away."

"But you do not need any other men." The voice didn’t sound triumphant now. It sounded…surly. "You have me. Am I not the embodiment of all that you desire? Is there another man who can compare to me?"

Geez, even her hallucination had to give her a hard time. There was no justice. An imaginary man ought to just…Sara stopped abruptly as that train of thought jumped tracks.

No. An imaginary man shouldn’t just go along with whatever she said. That wasn’t what she wanted.

He looked and sounded like the embodiment of masculine arrogance and it might just be well-deserved. Acres of muscles, toned and tanned to perfection. A square, indented jaw and the kind of cheekbones models paid a lot for when nature didn’t provide them. Eyes the color of the sea. Hair as black as hers rippling over shoulders that could have belonged to a discus-thrower. And then there was his masculine equipment.

How many men looked like he did? Even if he was a hallucination. He looked like an erotic dream, if one’s erotic dreams ran to incredible muscles, exotic features, and a large cock, and hers apparently did. He sounded masterful. Strong. Domineering.

When she’d said she didn’t want to be alone tonight, had she meant alone with a man who wasn’t a self-starter, who needed instructions? Or did she want a man who knew with total assurance exactly how to please a lover, and would proceed without being prompted every step of the way?

Sara opened her eyes cautiously and looked him over. He was scowling, and for some reason it made her want to smile. Her eyes wandered lower and the urge to smile lapsed into awe.

"Yes, you look like everything I desire. And no, I have never seen another man who compares." Since it was just her talking to herself, Sara figured she might as well be completely honest.

Sure, she was having a stress and over-work related breakdown, but was that any reason not to enjoy it?


Things I’ve been doing instead of blogging

1. Researching/developing new series idea which makes me cackle with glee
2. Rewrote novella and turned in
3. Began next novella
4. Walking
5. Petting the cat
6. Reading LM Montgomery books
7. Working w/ husband on project RV in preparation for camping
8. Wondering if camping without internet access will melt my brain or be really good for it

Summer is going to be over way too quickly. What have you been doing?

15 Favorite Books meme

I got tagged in a meme, and this is a neat one. 15 favorite books.

1. The Bible. It’s got it all; history, poetry, love, revenge, war. (Murdered by pirates is good!) Which brings us to:
2. The Princess Bride (book, not movie)
3. The Blue Castle, LM Montgomery
4. Of Men and Numbers, Jean Muir
5. Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats, TS Eliot
6. A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Shakespeare
7. A Wrinkle in Time, Madeleine L’Engle
8. Escape from Katmandu, Kim Stanley Robinson
9. Maus (graphic novel)
10. The Hobbit, Tolkien
11. The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe, CS Lewis
12. Witch World, Andre Norton
13. The Way Things Work, David MacAuley
14. I Robot, Isaac Asimov
15. Snow Crash, Neil Stephenson

Now you!

Bring out your dead!

I’m doing story surgery this week, starting with declaring some parts utterly dead and cutting them out for the good of the whole.

I have the core of an idea I love, I have replotted until I have a skeleton that hangs together and makes the right shape, but the words I wrote to get to that point are all on the chopping block.

It’s okay to throw out words that aren’t working, and it can be much easier to rewrite from scratch than to try to fix whole sections that are weak, wrong, or just broken. If the words are dead, bury ’em and get some live ones.

There are always more words. The only keepers should be the ones that bring the story to life. Everything else is dead weight and must go.

Left Behind Wrap-up

The annual Left Behind and Loving It workshops are wrapping up, and the RWA partiers are cleaning up the confetti and heading home. Tomorrow is Monday and back to business as usual. Some thoughts to take away:

1. Writing is physically and mentally demanding work. Self-care is essential to keep up the stamina needed to do the work. It isn’t just sitting in a chair typing, or laying on a chaise nibbling bon bons and giving dictation.  It’s more like digging ditches with your brain. Take care of your brain and your body, you can’t buy replacements.

2. The business of publishing is demanding, and while ideally art and business would go happily hand in hand, nothing is ideal. Take care of your art while minding your business; without your art, you have no business. 

3. Everybody eventually loses their rose-colored publishing glasses, but the ability to create a story out of nothing is a miracle. Treasure the miracle, practise it daily, and know that while nothing is perfect, the ability to write a book and see it in print and for sale is pretty damn terrific.

4. You can’t hit a target if you don’t know what you’re aiming at. Set clear goals and check to see if your actions are taking you towards them. It’s okay for goals to change, too. In fact, it’s a sign that you’re not dead, stuck in a rut, or complacent. 

5. Buy bunny slippers. PBW is dead right about that one.

Thanks to everybody who particpated. The floor’s open to questions.