Tuesday, July 20, 2010

I Write Like....

So I totally stole this from D. Scott Meek's blog and analyzed a section of my book, but HELL YES! There are far worse people I could be compared to, just so happens he's an author of one of my faves!
I write like
Chuck Palahniuk

I Write Like by Mémoires, Mac journal software. Analyze your writing!

D. Scott Meek's blog can be found at:

Thursday, July 8, 2010

Excerpt - The Devil's Angel

I can still feel Luc’s blood coursing through my dead veins, life like I’ve never known now flowing freely. I smirk at this. I felt the change the moment I drank from him. The little shreds of humanity that I’d carefully held onto the entire time I’d been a creature of the shadows were simply melting away. I walked silently through the manor, the smell of cigars, sex, blood and Zarek permeated everything around me. Him and his little tramp were about to get quite the wake-up call. I carefully turn the handle, hearing the moans from her as she shares a bed with my husband and open the door to watch the final crescendo.
Zarek’s hand is clamped around her throat cutting off her cries and he rolls next to her as he finishes. I watch from the doorway, my face only holding the slight smirk that has caressed my lips since I arrived here. Zarek laughs, his mouth pressed tight against the woman’s neck, her thin blond hair looking like faded straw on a pillow as she turned her head to him. My moment had arrived, and I dare say I was excited.
“Honey, I’m home,” I cooed with a thick grin, the blonde giving a slight shriek as Zarek’s dark eyes narrowed on me. The scar above his lip twitched slightly with the look on his face, good. I was pissing him off. Job number one accomplished.
“You should leave Devrynne, this is just pathetic,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant but it was a hard task for him to do with his jaw clenched tighter than a vice.
“Pathetic? You’re right Zarek, it is pathetic. Pathetic to think I blew an amazing deal with Luc to come here and kill you and your little chew toy.” Ah there it is. That slight waver in his expression, the way his eyes dilate ever so slightly in the moment that he wonders if I’m being honest.
“Bullshit. Luc wouldn’t ever give you permission to do that, deal or not,” he said with a small snort, sounding less convinced than I’m sure he’d hoped to. The blonde looked between us, her eyes wide and I could taste her on my tongue, the scent of her so thick in the air, she was new. Merely a few days old perhaps, but easily scared all the same. My emerald hues fell upon her and I bared my fangs in a slight hiss making her bury her face in Zarek’s neck, the blankets pulling up tight around her until all I could see was her big, brown eyes peeking at me.
“See Zarek, this is exactly why I will get to kill you. Because you’re an idiot. You think that you’re irreplaceable, invaluable to Luc’s plans and you’re wrong. You were a pawn, just like all the men in my life, you were created for the sole purpose of bringing me to him. You did your job and now it’s time I terminate your contract.” I chuckled as I walked around the edge of the bed slowly and watched his lover cower in his arms, her body trembling and a slight whimper leaving her. Long fingers reached under the covers and curled around her icy ankle causing her to scream and try to kick me off of her as I pulled her to me slowly.
“Let go of her,” Zarek shouted as he lunged at me and my other hand raised pushing him aside as if he were a gnat.
“You’ll get your turn,” I smirked. “Be patient.” My eyes drifted back to her and pulled her closer to me, my free hand sliding a long nail up the outside of her leg, slicing her flesh, blood trickling from the thin wound. I can feel Zarek’s amazement that I have the power to control him, to keep him from touching me, every time he tries he is pushed back like a insect pestering a patron at a picnic. The blonde is silent as my nail digs deep into her thigh, feeling the fatty flesh against the pad of my finger that is buried in her skin, she whimpers but doesn’t speak. Her eyes are fear-filled as they lock on mine, but it is as if she is unable to speak.
I pull her to me, my hand slicing open her belly, my eyes locked on hers as she finally screams and the soft splashing sound of her intestines being pulled from her body as I stand her up in front of me echoes off the walls.
“Sorry darlin’, gravity’s a bitch.” I could sit and torture her for hours, not that she needs her internal organs but blood loss can be detrimental to her, but I’ve tired of this game and she is not the reason I’ve come here tonight. My eyes lifting as I look at Zarek’s shocked face and my fingers curl in opposite directions around her head and I twist. The crunching of the bones of her neck is deafening as she screams a moment before her head is severed from her body. I smile sweetly as her body drops and I toss her decapitated head atop her bleeding corpse and I see the panic in Zarek’s eyes.
“Devrynne I’m so sorry,” he pleaded, his voice sounding choked. “S-she had m-me tricked, some kind of s-spell or something.” I laughed at his feeble attempt at redemption.
“Are you frightened Zarek, that I might kill you just as I did her?” I asked quietly to which he nodded. “You shouldn’t be.” I moved closer and felt the relief wash over him as I cupped his face and kissed him softly pulling him to me and he wrapped his arms around my waist, his face burying against my red curls.
“Thank you Devrynne,” he said in a breathless whisper against my neck.
“Don’t confuse things Zarek, I will make your death last a lot longer and make it far more painful,” I said and felt him stiffen, my arms locking around him to hold him to me, my mouth moving against his ear. “You will be begging for Luc to take over because I will make his torture of you over the years seem like paradise.” I laughed darkly as I felt the power in him rise and he tried to fight me. “Welcome to hell Zarek, it’s going to be a long night.”

Feeling A Little Less Alone in the Great Big Author-ly World

I stumbled upon a blog from a Twitter post today that seriously made me ponder if I have a twin somewhere. This author wrote about being an emotional roller coaster so to speak, and was wondering if she would be happier finding calm which could ultimately make her writing suffer. So she asked the question of other writers and artists if they were able to find a balance or not because she believed that Artists cannot be what they are and have inner peace.

This is a topic that has always intrigued me and I will tell you why.

I come from a family that literally puts the fun in dysfunctional some days, but don’t we all? I have a long line of depression in my family and will admit to being treated for clinical depression at one point in my life too. You know what worked better than any pill they threw at me? Writing.
There are many nights that pass, after the kids are in bed, work is done for the day, when I’m either out watching the stars or finally alone in the shower that the weight of the day hits and I break down. I admit to crying over something almost daily, whether it’s something sad or happy, you can bet money I will have shed a few tears daily.

Do I like being this way? Some days, yes. Other days, not so much.

But don’t go getting all preachy on me and give me any of your psychobabble speeches, I don’t want or need it because I’m perfectly happy with how I am.

I’m tired of the old adage that you are what you think. That’s bullshit, I’m sorry. If everyone believed they were a certain way there would be no need to still have hate crime laws, there would be no need for medical treatments for mental disorders, there would be no need for cliques and groups. If it were true that you could simply ‘think’ your way into a better life then Ian Somerhalder and Jensen Ackles would be beating down my door fighting for my hand in marriage. Hehehe, I’m not delusional enough to believe that will ever happen, so no one else should be either.

The writer of the blog also mentioned about keeping up the façade of normal, or serene calm, an act that in and of itself is a full time job to most. And I also so a comment on there that spoke that this is not exclusive to writers or artists as it is a way of the world. On that I call bullshit. I have had the joy of interacting with thousands of people because of the company I work for and the ones who I’ve spoken to about this subject are divided. You can tell the creative souls from the society labeled ‘normal’ people any day of the week and twice on Sunday. The ones that are creative, however that creativity may come out, are emotional, labeled often as dramatic and moody, unpredictable. The ones that aren’t, are labeled as the Poster boys and girls of the corporation, the “Team-Players”. So no I don’t believe that it’s a human nature thing, I think it’s a creative soul thing.

Either way I would love to commend Jessica Digiacinto for her lovely post at http://www.litdrift.com/ and Joanna Penn for posting it on Twitter today. Jessica has said what I think a lot of writers feel but never speak of.

Joanna Penn can be reached on Twitter at www.twitter.com/thecreativepenn or at her website http://www.thecreativepenn.com/

Jessica Digiacinto can be found on Twitter at www.twitter.com/redheadedwriter or at her website http://watchoutworldimatwentysomething.blogspot.com/