I Get Knocked Down, But I Get Up Again…with @MeganSlayer ~ A Journey of Writing, Rejection and Starting Over

paranormalromantics_websiteheader_940x376

This post has been cross-posted at Paranormal Romantics: http://paranormalromantics.blogspot.com/2017/05/i-get-knocked-down-but-i-get-up.html

When I sit down to write, I have a general plan for the story. General. I won’t say it’s ever a very well fleshed out outline. I’m not that organized. I have the idea and I’ll start plotting, but usually the characters start talking and I end up with chunks of dialogue within the outline. Now, I know there’s not a singular way to do an outline. It’s a matter of preference. But it can be kind of confusing to anyone reading my notes. Outline, outline, outline…DIALOGUE! Heh heh.

So I was asked to take part in an anthology. Sure. I had been debating doing this sub call anyhow and now that I was encouraged to take part, I set out to do it. I had this great idea. Planned the thing out. Like the whole thing. I even had chunks of dialogue. Like big chunks. I was jazzed. So jazzed…I might have written 2/3 of the story before I knew if it would fly for the call. I was excited. The story was flowing.

Then I heard from the powers that be. They didn’t want it. What? How…

Instead of getting upset or knocked down and not getting up again, I dusted myself off. Now if you’ve been reading my blog, you’ll see this isn’t the first time recently that I’ve been knocked down so to speak. It’s been kind of a rough couple of months.

I could’ve hidden for a while and said to hell with what I was doing. I could’ve gotten angry and lashed out. But what would getting mad do? Up my blood pressure and give me a headache. Hiding isn’t a bad idea, but I’m not the type to hide. The characters are there and when I can’t write, I’m not happy. I write because the characters demand to speak.

So, I dusted myself off and dove into a new outline. I saw a photo that inspired me and the topic happened to gel with the sub call. I wrote the plot and waited. It fit the call! Needless to say, plugging along and keeping going worked for me. I started over and I’m back to my happy place.

Has this ever happened to you? A thing you thought wouldn’t knock you down did, but you kept going? I’d love to hear about it. 🙂

Chasing Sparks by Megan Slayer  MS_BS_ChasingSparks_coverin

A FREE Read Available from Loose Id

Part of the Battle Scarred Series

M/M, Paranormal, Contemporary, Vampires

Coming Soon!

http://www.loose-id.com/

Two vampires have the chance to step into the sunshine without being charred. Most creatures of the night wouldn’t chance losing their undead life for good. But Anders and Galen have heightened abilities. They won’t char. What are they going to do? Celebrate summer, being together, and sunshine. Mix in hot sex under the veil of stars and fireworks…who wouldn’t want to take a step and chase sparks?

The Life and Death of Writing with @MeganSlayer

This post was originally posted at The Romance Studio:

https://wp.me/p8f7P3-1jj

I haven’t spoken much about this topic, mostly because until now I haven’t felt up to it. When you’re a writer, you’re expected to write. To eat, sleep, breathe and dream about writing. The characters are supposed to talk to you all of the time. No breaks. For some writers, this is exactly the case. I admire them. For others, it’s less demanding. They write when they can and although the characters don’t stop talking, they fit them in. Others have the infamous writer’s block. Hey, it happens.

But this post isn’t about writer’s block in it’s natural form. My form of writer’s block came out of something that happened starting almost a month ago. My grandfather, the one man who literally stood head and shoulders above everyone else, took ill. He went to the ER and was diagnosed with pneumonia. Now people survive pneumonia. Even at his age, 83, it’s possible to get survive. I didn’t think at the time it was a big deal. Like I said, people don’t have to die from pneumonia.

But life isn’t that easy. He spent more than ten days at the hospital. Tests were done and his breathing never got back to par. While they did those tests and made him take all of those breathing treatments, the doctors discovered cancer in his kidneys and in his lungs.

This is where I got scared. This was the guy whom I looked up to. He was the one who would scowl and grouse at people, but had a huge heart. If you needed something, he’d jump in and help. He literally jumped into the pool once…right before the life guard told us all not to jump in yet. He’d tell us every year he’d chased off Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny because they were breaking into the house. I’ll never forget the grin on his face when he drove his ‘old’ car away. I can’t remember exactly what kind of car it was, but the soft top (I think it was cloth, but not a convertible), but he was so happy to have it. Him zipping on the lawnmower across the lawn that seemed endless when I was a kid. Him engraving my name on my scissors so no one would steal them when I was in grade school (no one did, by the way). He drove me halfway across the state to visit my aunt, which was kind of a sort of farce because I was really going to see my then boyfriend (now DH). He helped me move to my first dorm and helped hike my crap up the seemingly hundreds of steps because the elevator wasn’t available for use.

All of these memories came back. I couldn’t imagine my life without him there. Without him chewing us all out because we hadn’t gotten to the reunion, Christmas dinner, Easter dinner, get together…etc. on time. Smelling the smoke from his pipe while he chewed out the football games or while watching western movies and arguing with the gunslingers.

I didn’t want to lose my grandpa. But cancer is a bitch. I’m sorry. It is. I’m not entirely sure how long he had it before the nodules were detected, but only two weeks after being put into the hospital, the doctors informed my grandmother that there wasn’t anything left to do but to send him home with hospice. April 8th, very early in the morning, he passed.

I’m still upset about this. I won’t lie. He was and still is my grandpa. I knew him as Grandpa, whereas my cousins all called him Pawpaw. I went to the funeral and cried during the stories. I wanted to get up and tell mine, but I didn’t have the strength? Stamina? I don’t know, but I couldn’t do it.

Now this post is supposed to be about writing. It is. I don’t know about other writers, but for me, it’s been hard to focus on the characters. They’re there. Trust me, they’re talking. I just don’t have the desire right now to work on their stories. Is it my period of mourning? I think so. I’ve plodded away on a super short and outlined a longer work. But to sit down and just write…I don’t have it in me right now. I’m sure it’ll happen again. I’m the type of person that once I get whatever it is in my head out of my head, then I can move forward. I just haven’t gotten this out yet. I haven’t understood what happened and accepted it. I will. The stories are there and they’ll come. Just give me time. I promise.

Here’s a little bit about one of my previous releases. I hope you find enjoyment in my story, Merging Their Roar.

Merging Their Roar MERGING

Sanctuary, Book 8

By Megan Slayer

M/M, M/M/M, Ménage, Anal Sex, Oral Sex

Novella

Resplendence Publishing

The right piece for their perfect triad seems to be the one man who doesn’t seem to fit at all.

Eli and Silas have done pretty much everything twins can do together within reason. They share lovers and are inseparable. Now, the lions want free. They want someone to be with both of them and can understand the dual sides to their collective nature. But the twins are scarred by their past. Eli uses his people skills to please and get by, while Silas takes the quieter, introverted and angry approach. Can these two find a perfect complement? Does that person even exist?

Owen Cantrell believes he’s not only worthy of the shifters, but he’s their missing piece. He’s human and hasn’t been around shifters, but he’s not afraid. What could go wrong?

When these three get together, there are plenty of sparks, but things can’t be perfect forever. The way Eli, Silas and Owen deal with their problems and everything thrown their way will prove if they aren’t meant to be or if they can go the distance.

Note: Merging Their Roar is part of the Sanctuary series. Each book features different characters and can be enjoyed as a standalone story.

Available anywhere ebooks are sold, for only $2.99

https://books2read.com/u/3LrX0D

Or at Resplendence Publishing: http://www.resplendencepublishing.com/m8/862-978-1-60735-990-6–merging-their-roar-sanctuary-series-book-eight-by-megan-slayer.html

Resolutions, Schmezolutions… with @WendiZwaduk and @MeganSlayer

I’m horrible about resolutions. I admit it. I’m a procrastinator, but I love deadlines. I live for that stress of ‘oh crap will I make it’. Some might say I have issues that way. Bet you’d never guess I’m a pantser, too. I am.

This post is about my resolutions. Heh, heh. I’ve tried to make them before. I have. But I’m so horrible about keeping them. I probably set the bar too high, but that’s the kind of person I am.

Since I’ve been asked about my resolutions, I should probably make a few. It couldn’t hurt, right?

This year, 2017, I resolve to…

Write every day. Now I know this won’t happen EVERY day—at least not on the laptop. There will be some days I’m sick (I have a school-aged child) or won’t be home…but I’ll have my notebooks.

I’ll write in my notebook at least a few words every day. Hey, I’ve got a ton of the things and some really pretty ones. I should use them, right?

I’m going to use the fountain pen given to me for Christmas for more than just looking pretty in the box. Hey, it’s an awesome pen and it needs to be used for more than just being pretty. Plus, it looks cool on the page.

In 2016, I wrote over 565,000 words. I don’t know if I’ll be able to do that again, but hey, it’s worth a shot to try…so I’ll try.

Those are my resolutions, for good or bad. I’ll do my best, but I also believe in giving myself the leeway to goof up and get back onto the horse. Things happen and if I learned anything in 2016, it’s that I can’t control everything I want to. But if I roll with the punches, bend without breaking and keep my chin up, I’ll be okay.

#PoweredByIndie with @WendiZwaduk

Check it Out Banner
Like Indie books? Like mine? Want a few new reads? Then check out the Powered by Indie books over at Amazon.
#PoweredByIndie @WendiZwaduk 
If you can find me, let me know!! 🙂

But You’re a … Girl ~ Writing What’s in Your Heart

I had a very good friend of mine stop me dead in my tracks with an email the other day. Yes. Dead. In my tracks. How, you might wonder? She actually asked a simple question but it’s not a simple answer.

You wrote a male/male story. But you’re a girl. How is that possible?

You might be cocking your head the same way I was. At first I thought, how is it not possible? I mean, parts are parts and they go in the same general slots. Right? But then I thought on it a little longer. Oh, and I stared at the email a little longer. How was this possible?

Ok, so yes, I sat flummoxed at my computer for quite a while. I had no answer that would make a heck of a lot of sense. But something another friend said, came to mind. Now mind you, we come from totally different backgrounds and situations, but we’re friends—good friends to be exact.

What did she say? The question posed to the both of us was this: why not write interracial?

My answer: Um, I’ve never had a whole lot of experience outside of white bread Ohio. (Honest truth at the time)

Her answer: well, you’re a girl. I’m a girl. We pee the same, right? The color of our background and the situations we live in should only make the story richer.

I don’t mean this in any ill manner, but I thought, holy crap…she’s right. Just because I’ve never done something doesn’t mean I can’t write about it. So, I translated it into writing sexual stories.

I’m a girl, yes. But having sex is a rather universal thing. Most all of us…do it. A little healthy research, some photograph reference, and asking lots of questions can get you lots of answers. Some answers you might not want, but hey, can’t have everything.

So what did I tell my emailing friend? I said…Heya. Hon, I’m not a man and never claimed to be (wouldn’t that confuse the cabana boys?). But I’ve had my share of fun and I know the mechanics of sex, be it tab A into slot B or tab A into slot A. It all works about the same—okay, so some needs a little more lube. You’re blushing, aren’t you? Good. I’m trying to get into the character’s head. I’m trying to show their feelings through sexual situations. If I get it right, cool. If I get it wrong, I’m sure there will be a lot of people out there willing to tell me. I write what I like and what the characters want to be.

Do you want to know what her reply was? Thought you might.

Her reply was this: You’re still not a guy, but trust you to be a perv. You’re always trying to push the envelope and be drastic. One of these days you’ll get into trouble. 

Yeah, that was the answer. I chalk it up to this–she didn’t get the answer she wanted. I assume she wanted me to say, well, now that you’re offended, I won’t write that. Or maybe something like OMG you’re right. I never looked at it your way.

But I didn’t. We’re still friends, but we don’t talk as much. She is right in one part. I live for trouble. Seems to be my best buddy and we skip off down the lane together on a daily basis.  If I had a tattoo, I’m sure trouble and I would have matching ones.

So as I sit here typing the last part of this essay, I leave you with this—write what’s in your heart no matter color, creed, persuasion and be true to it. You’re writing for you and if others like it, fantastic. But if you don’t love it first and foremost, look for what you do love.

In the Mood ~ Thursday Inspiration

I write romance and it tends to be on the hot side. Why? The easy answer is I can’t get my characters to be behave. It’s the truth. The harder answer? I like inspirational books, I do. But I love books where the characters have the freedom to be as hinky kinky as they want to be. I like reading about characters who are expressing all their desires and needs in a safe environment.

Now that said, there’s this small issue of getting in the mood. Those who know me well know I don’t really hold back. My filter is usually broken. I tell you what’s on my mind, how I feel and don’t hold back. My one friend will say I am the most unrestrained of the Wild Women over at the Menagerie. She’s right. I am. Take me as I am, love me or hate me, but let me be me.

So back to the point. What about getting in the mood to write those hot, hot scenes? What does it take? Glad you asked.

My characters run the gamut from m/f to m/m, to m/m/f, to m/f/m. They are paranormal and contemporary mainstream. I have a lot of friends who are of every walk of life and persuasion. Sometimes all I need to get in the mood to write a scene is just to hang out with them. You’d be surprised how much you can work with just by sitting at a table talking with your friends. Now, I do have the disclaimer, if you say something I can possibly use, know it will end up in a book.

What if I need a little more than that? There’s always pictures and music. Writing sex means you have to be in the right frame of mind. Trust me. You never want to try to write white hot sex while in a bad mood. It just falls off the tracks. You probably don’t want to write sex if you’re depressed. Both happen to me as they happen to everyone. So to get myself in the mood, I tend to crank up the tunes. Something by Nine Inch Nails, Theory of a Deadman, or Disturbed works well. I also like to peruse photos. Not those photos, although they work rather well, too, I mean just looking at the photos that best resemble the character. Yep. I think about what that character might be thinking in the throes of lovemaking and run with it.  Yes. I run rather far with them.

So that’s a peek into my mind and what I use to get in the mood. If you write hot, what gets you in the mood? If you’re a reader, what books get you in the mood? I’d love to know!

Sunday Snog with Play to Him

Here’s my contribution to the Sunday Snogs!! I’ve been away the last week recharging and just plain taking a break. But fear not! I’m back! My snog comes from Play to Him. I love this story and hope you do, too! And it’s on sale right now!

<blockquote>The key to her freedom is accepting his bonds.  

Rhiannon Dubois set out to find her own path in life—with her music, her career and what she wants in the bedroom. No more giving in to get what she wants. She’s making her own rules.

Except with the billionaire playboy she can’t get out of her mind.

Sebastian Chastain knows Rhiannon better than she knows herself. Despite her best efforts to hide her need for submission behind her independent streak, she blossoms when she relinquishes control. He’s got the tools to jumpstart her career and he’s not stopping until she regains her spot in the limelight.

She puts herself in his masterful hands, but can he also convince her to offer her heart?

Reader Advisory: This story has been previously released as part of the Bound to the Billionaire anthology by Total-E-Bound</blockquote>

Available here!

And now for that snog!!

One more item. If she liked it, he’d be willing to bet the item would become a bestseller. Sebastian had seen the particular apparatus used in one of the clubs he frequented. But his idea made the table better—padded enough to make her comfortable, but with a built-in motor, hinges and removable pieces enough to be a multi-tasker.

He led her across the room to a waist-high table. “Hop up.”

Rhiannon sat on the edge of the leather-covered table and scooted into place on her hands and knees. She spread her hands on the surface and opened her legs, resting her ankles on the stirrups. He fixed the straps around her legs, then clicked a second set of cuffs to the handcuffs on her wrists.

“Do you want to know just what this table will do?”

“Yes, Sir.” She opened her mouth and licked her lips.

“Good Kitten.” He pressed a button, lowering the table top. Her eyes widened, but she didn’t say anything. Sebastian smoothed her hair from her eyes, then stroked himself a couple of times. “Reach for me.”

Rhiannon inched forward as far as the restraints allowed and craned her neck. She flicked her tongue over the head of his cock.

“That’s a good girl.” He moved forward enough for her to engulf him in her sweet heat. She licked his balls then sucked one of his testicles into her mouth. Sensations of love and desire flowed through his veins. He drew a long breath and let it out slowly.

“Enough.” Sebastian withdrew, then shoved down his pants to where they pooled at his feet. He sat down on a chair before her and removed his socks. “You’ve pleased me,” he said, and unbuttoned his shirt, “but I think you need to wait a little longer.”