IS THIS WRITER'S BLOCK?

The year is half over! Where the heck has it gone? From a writer’s point of view, the year is over for most of us, except for special calls for the holiday season. From my point of view, I’ve tried to write one more story to submit for the end of the year. Nothing is coming.

Writer’s Block? I don’t think so. I’ve been writing continuously for two and half years, and since my first published work January 2011, I’ve had seven releases last year and so far this year, four with two more by the end of the year. Add on top of that several blogs in July I’m participating in, this one with RB4U, several blogs for book tours, and edits galore! Part of the problem could also be life has gotten in the way. For the past month, we've been renovating our house and was torn up and I've been trying to put everything back. Add to that along with normal chores, and I'm exhausted. 

I want to write, but the words on the new stories tickling my brain aren’t flowing. The finicky muse has gone on vacation. Maybe that’s what I need. I have sort of one next month, in New Orleans for the Authors After Dark Conference. The city is always fun, but the week will be work. All I want to do is write! I have six works in progress and can’t get two words put on the laptop screen. Urgh!

The creativity is there, but doesn’t want to come out. Is this really what writer’s block is like? Am I in denial? I’ve done all the tricks others have shared, but as of yet, nothing. Tell me fellow romance authors, am I in need of an intervention? Shake me and force me to seat down and do it? Just write.

As an erotic writer, I swear it’s like not being able to climax in one of my stories. Not a good thing. Any of my heroines would kick my butt. Hey! Maybe a good swat is what I need.

Hey, honey!

Okay, that was too much information. Let me end this with a first seen excerpt from the release for later this month. Finished the edits on Saturday night, so this should be a clean part.

Blurb:

Four Women, Four Fantasies ~ The Night Falls for All

Come on an erotic ride in a 1976 Bubble Gum Pink Cadillac Fleetwood limousine to a mysterious nightclub where the fantasies of four women are fulfilled. Mistress Claudine, the owner and hostess, invites you to indulge in your wildest pleasures.

As the night falls, a new man walks into each woman’s life. In the end, will they get more than they paid for?

Beware. Once night falls, nothing imagined is beyond reach.

CASSIDY’S FANTASY - A vampire stakes claim to her heart.

KATIE’S FANTASY - A pirate from 17th Century Scotland saves her heart.

DEMETRA'S FANTASY - A pop star, with a were-tiger alter-ego, creates music to rock her world and heart.

NATALY'S FANTASY - An Olympian demi-god wins the heart of the forest nymph.

NEVER BEFORE SEEN EXCERPT:

PRESS RELEASE—La Sange, Louisiana—Home of the Fantasy Club, Nightfall. Come take a ride to a place where your fantasy is fulfilled. Mistress Claudine, your hostess, invites you to indulge in your wildest pleasures. Beware. Once night falls, nothing imagined is beyond reach.

The rhythmic thrumming of fingernails on the wood desktop filled the silent room. Claudine La Fleur scrutinized the press release. Everything had to be perfect. No mistakes this time.

No errors, no oversights, no missteps, no fuck-ups. She couldn’t risk what happened in New York a year ago, again. There wouldn’t have been a problem if the incoming mayor hadn’t taken her suggestion for his fantasy. Was it her fault the damn female vampire was a closet dominatrix bent on beating the shit out of the client? Didn’t help that further investigation revealed she was a serial killer when in human form. One minor point the vampiress neglected to disclose on her resume.

Damn! Normally, she thoroughly vetted the paranormal clients in search of love to the fullest extent possible. She verified the information they provided, comparing it with her usually reliable gut feeling. This time the instincts failed. She screwed up royally, the first time ever. Am I losing my magic touch? No amount of incentives or money could make things right with Mayor Marion Thompson. He was a real asshole about the role-playing snafu. Packing up her lucrative business of providing fantasies to humans, paranormals, and souls lost through time, coupled with moving to another location had been a royal pain in the ass. Unfortunately, the transfer was necessary if she wished to keep her identity as well as the otherworldly fellow clients and friends of her kind safe. How many moves does this make over the years?

Plaquemines Parish in Southern Louisiana held promise. After visiting New Orleans for Mardi Gras last year, when the necessity of moving arose, The Crescent City called to Claudine in ways she hadn’t felt since leaving her favorite home in Paris, France during World War One. Wars were not conducive to her enterprise. She provided a service for escapism for humans and all mythical creatures she encountered within her circle. The belief everyone needed affection no matter who or what they were reigned foremost in her practice’s mission. Love was love, and she wanted to facilitate everyone having it in their lives. Claudine excelled at matchmaking. She’d spent hundreds and hundreds of years perfecting her technique.

When the turmoil escalated, the carnage of the battle torn world in Europe certainly would have had her skills put to the test for anyone desiring to escape the horrors, but she’d seen enough during the French Revolution to last a lifetime. She packed up and moved to New York City in the summer of 1914 after the Germans declared war on France. Surely, she thought at the time, the United States would be neutral and the war was a European conflict. How wrong she was.

She sighed. “So, long ago, but now I’ll have a fresh new start here. La Sange, Louisiana. My new home.”

A soft tap on the closed door snapped her out of the vexing memories. “Yes, come in.”

A tall, exotically handsome man in a black, crisply pressed tuxedo with white shirt and red silk bow tie entered. “Good evening, mistress. What is my first pick-up for tonight?”

“Good evening, Thierry.” Claudine placed the press release down and shuffled through a small stack of files. “Ah, here it is. VIP Package for Four. This is the only one for the evening. Should be an early night for you. The women’s requests are quite unusual and intriguing, I must say. I was surprised they were so adventurous for a first-time club member.” She raised an eyebrow as she handed the small piece of paper with the pick-up location scribed in red ink. “I have high hopes for them in finding their true loves tonight. Turn on your charm, my sweet.”

“Don’t I always?” He turned to leave, stopped, and returned his attention to Claudine. “I like that we moved here. Don’t blame yourself for New York. La Sange is a fresh start for all of us.” He left, closing the door behind him.

“Oh, Thierry, you’re so right.” She did have a lot to look forward to in this quiet, little town. Close enough to New Orleans to draw clients yet secluded to provide privacy for the clients, the supernatural and preternatural individuals looking for love.

She stood and walked to the expansive bay window. Twilight, with a fading glow of day transitioning into the purples, ambers, oranges of evening, cast ever lengthening shadows over the landscape of the front yard before the darkness of night fell. She loved this time of day, always had. The creatures of the night, such as her, embraced the scents and sights with the intoxicating and addictive power it delivered.

Thierry was right. After eight long months of renovating the old plantation and bringing in modern technology, she’d make Nightfall a success where the others had failed. Love was in the air; she could smell it. Tonight fantasies would be fulfilled, or she’d damn well die making them happen.

Thanks everyone for listening to my pity party. Oh, forgot to share one creative thing I've done, a book trailer for Nightfall. To see a larger version, here's the link for YouTube: http://youtu.be/EJj0IWyncJo

Cynthia

http://romanticwordsbycynthia.blogspot.com
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