Urban Vampire

A New Home

2010-10-09T15:04:00.002-04:00

For those of you who have been visiting me here at Urban vampire for the past several years will find that I have a new home. As of Sunday morning 9am Eastern Standard Time, this blog will become a part of my new website: http://www.denisekrago.com/ in conjunction with the book launch for my first novel, Immortal Obsession. My loyal readers are probably saying to themselves "it's about time," and yes, it is about time and that time is now.

Some folks know from an early age that they want to be writers. I dabbled in plays, poetry and life-long journal writing, but as a child I wanted to be both a ballerina and an archaeologist. I would come home from ballet class to dig up my front lawn while still in my tights and ballet slippers. Talk about conflicting desires.

The launch date of my website coincides with an experience that happened five years ago on 10.10.05. This experience compelled me to begin my novel and though it had no title, I knew who the main character was, what he looked like, his name, his likes and dislikes. He spoke to me from that day forward and my novel took form. Though it has been through many revisions, the themes that spoke to me were always the same: undying love, guilt, regret and loyalty to those we love, no matter the cost.

And so, Immortal Obsession is no longer just my world, but yours the readers, as well. I hope you will visit often. I plan on hosting some incredible guests while I continue to work on my second novel in this series as the life of Christian Du Maure continues to unfold.

Thank you for being here.

When is Death the only Option?

2010-09-28T06:17:00.003-04:00

I recently learned that an acquaintance of my husbands committed suicide over the weekend. I will spare you the details, but needless to say it was shocking. He seemed like a nice enough man; wife, children, big house. I cried when I heard this news, wondering what would compel someone into thinking that death was the only viable option? How bad was it for him?

In high school, I had friends who died, whether it be by accident, or suicide. Their deaths troubled me. How could you take your life at 17 years old when you had so much ahead. Maybe that was the problem. The ahead was too overwhelming and scary.
As a youth in college, I saw a film in a Philosophy class about this very subject. When is it okay to take your own life, or better yet, when does death become the more noble, honorable way out of ones life? This film presented numerous scenarios, and as a viewer, I began to understand that sometimes, in some situations, death is the better way.

My prayers to the family, this man leaves behind. His parents, friends, business associates, his wife and children.

Immortal Obsession

2010-09-12T15:18:00.002-04:00

It's finally here...
An excerpt from my debut novel Immortal Obsession at www.denisekrago.com/
I would be thrilled if you would check it out.

9/11

2010-09-10T13:20:00.003-04:00

I don't know about you but just seeing those numbers makes me shiver. They conjure up all sorts of memories of a crystal clear Tuesday morning, nine years ago. Though the details of the day elude me know, I still remember the feeling of being in a state of shock, of how empty my downtown was as I drove home from work around 4pm. How regular television had been pre-empted [a positive as far as I was concerned] and how quiet the world seemed with no airplanes overhead.

All I could think about was accounting for all my loved ones: a nieces husband who worked nearby, a cousin flying out of Newark Airport that morning, friends whose spouses worked in the financial district. I made mental notes as I watched co-workers do the same. I will not recap feelings I am sure we all felt on that day and forever, as we approach this solemn anniversary. I just need to say I love you to all my friends, family, readers, internet friends and co-workers. I am so grateful for you all.

I promised from that day forward to never take a day for granted, ever, because who knows, it could be my last.

Voices in the dark

2010-08-25T14:43:00.002-04:00

Many times I am asked where my inspiration comes from and quite honestly, my simplest answer is "it just comes." There are times when I am driving, eating, watching a movie or even in the shower when something comes and I always either write it down or tape record it. Who knows when I will be able to use it or in which book, as I am presently working on my second, with a third in mind.

It all will fall into place as I recount the struggles of my vampire Christian Du Maure, as he learns his true identity. Just like any of us, he struggles with his decisions, his regrets and his hopes for the future.

Sometimes I even hear my characters talking to me in their thick accents. I can see them conversing. It's like a movie playing in my head as I try to capture them on paper before the moment passes and my muse dances away.

There's just no excuse!

2010-07-15T16:32:00.002-04:00

I know it's been over a month since I have posted any musings here. Time just flies by and before I know it, a month has passed. So, let me get myself together and post some writing here soon.

Stay tuned....

Leila Baptiste and Christian Du Maure ~ Part One

2010-06-06T13:57:00.003-04:00

She heard the knock on the front door, then, Josephine scurrying across the stone floor to answer it before they banged again. Frantically chopping vegetables from the garden, she half listened as Phillip ran towards the foyer as well.
“Bon sois, Josephine, is Michel here?”
Leila stopped chopping, the deep voice resonating throughout the foyer, the same deep voice she remembered from her youth, but never thought she would hear again. The voice belonging to the only man she had ever loved, a man she would never forget though it had been ten years since they had spoken, or stared into each others eyes.
She quickly ran into the foyer just the door closed.
“And who are you?” The tall stranger asked.
“Phillip DeAraigne,” her son replied sheepishly, in a soft, high-pitched voice.
“Pleasure to meet you Phillip.” He knelt down to shake the boys hand, “Christian Du Mauré.”
He noticed the child’s unusual dress and light, green eyes. He is not from Meudon, Christian guessed, yet, I know those eyes, I still dream about those eyes.
Leila watched her son take his hand hesitantly, just as she came behind him, placing a delicate hand on the child’s shoulder.
Christian studied the white hand and the contrasting gold band on one finger. He noticed the intricate pattern of a dress, the long, dark braid thrown over one shoulder, almost touching her waist, and he knew that hair could only belong to one woman. He felt her eyes on him, and he wished he had put on cleaner clothes, studying his muddy boots and trousers.
What is she doing here, he thought, still kneeling in front of the boy. Why didn’t Michel tell me she had come home.
Their parting still twisted him into knots. It took him years to accept her leaving yet here she was, a breath away. He stood up slowly, his heart racing, afraid to look at her.
“Hello,” he blurted out, suddenly tongue-tied, frozen by her presence as if he were face to face with a ghost.
“Hello Christian,” she whispered back, studying his tan face and dark eyes, as the pain of seeing him washed over her. He is still so beautiful, she thought, holding Phillip’s shoulders for support.
“Phillip, this is a very old friend of mine and your Uncle Michel’s.” She explained. “We all grew up together. Christian, this is my son, Phillip.”
Christian found her still delicate and beautiful, noticing slight lines around her green eyes. Her black hair was longer than he remembered it, as wisps framed her oval face, falling out of her loose braid. He noticed a sadness that filled her once bright eyes.
It had been ten years since he had come to this house to say goodbye to her. She was preparing to leave for Brittany to meet her future husband, a member of the minor nobility on Belle Isle. He remembered how she cried and he whispered lies, telling her it was for the best. Her arranged marriage had been inevitable, something he thought he had accepted until the envoy came to escort her away. Though he was only sixteen, losing her had almost destroyed him.
“Where is Michel?” He suddenly felt the urge to run.
“He’s in the stables,” Phillip blurted out, “do you want me to get him mother?”
“Thank you Phillip.” Leila patted the boy’s arms still trying to calm her racing heart. .
“Tell him if he plans on hunting today, he better get moving.” Christian called after the boy, his booming voice echoing throughout the quiet manor house.
Phillip slipped past him, running out the front door as Leila watched him go, slamming the heavy wooden door.
The silence became deafening as they stared at each other in silence.
“Handsome boy, he has your eyes and your hair.”
“Thank you.” She smiled, wiping her hands on her apron, “I was just in the kitchen cutting up some vegetables for supper.”
“I had no idea you were coming home, Leila.”
She felt his stare as he followed her back into the sunny kitchen.
“Neither did we.” She tried to focus on the pile of carrots and leeks she and Phillip had just picked from the garden. “There has been talk of rebellion and my husband thought it best to get us as far away as possible, so here we are. We just got here yesterday.”
“It’s that serious?” He grabbed a carrot remembering all the nights he would stay for supper, while she prepared dinner for him, Michel, and her father. He had spent most of his childhood in this house, in this kitchen with his best friend Michel, and his beautiful sister, Leila.
“It is, in fact Michel had no idea we were coming. There are always those who want us dead but over the last year there has been a growing faction that desperately wants the throne.”
“How serious is it?” He asked, taking more vegetables. " What does Phillip know?"
“We slipped out in the middle of the night, but I told him it was time to visit my family.” She tried to focus yet found his close proximity distracting. “How rude of me,” she stopped. “You must be thirsty. Can I get you some wine?”
“I can still find my way around Leila.” He smiled, taking a pewter mug out of a cabinet, pouring some wine. “So how long will you be staying?”
“I don’t know, “ she shrugged, noticing how lean he was, and how his thick, wavy hair still fell to his shoulders. His skin was sun kissed, not pale like the men of Burgundy. In some ways, it was as if no time had passed between them; and yet, as she watched him, she felt such awkwardness; two people with so much left unsaid. She wondered how much he knew about her life.
“Michel told me about your father. I’m sorry.”
He nodded, refilling the mug.
“He was a good man. He died peacefully.”
“Michel told me that you live---”
“I never married if that is what you are asking.”
“I just can’t imagine you working that farm alone, that’s all." She shrugged, remembering how direct and argumentative he could be, never one to mince words or back down from a fight.
“I manage.” He shrugged.
“All you ever wanted was a family. I am just surprised that---”
“With you.” He gently touched her arm, forcing her to drop the knife onto the wooden counter. “I wanted a family with you.”
The front door slammed before she could respond.
“There he is.” Michel burst into the kitchen with Phillip trailing behind him.
“Mother, can I go hunting with Uncle Michel and Christian?”
“It is up to them, Phillip.” She eyed both men, taking comfort in the restored threesome. She could not remember a time when her brother was not with Christian. Now that Michel was a widower with no children of his own, she assumed they spent most evenings together. Leila felt a sudden pang of sadness.
“Sure, he can join us.” Michel glanced at Christian seeking his approval..
“Go change your clothes, Phillip,” his mother commanded, waiting until he was safely out of earshot.
“I know what you are going to say sister."Michel took her gently by each shoulder. "He is a possible heir to the throne, be careful, take no chances. Do not worry.” He took his sister in his arms, hugging her. She fought her own tears, missing her only brother so much.
“And no talk about the rebellion, do you understand?” She whispered. “He is to know nothing. He already has asked me how long we were staying and I have been purposely vague.”
“Is he that homesick already?” Christian asked finishing his second mug of wine.
“No, quite the opposite I think. He has found a male who will give him attention.” She avoided Christian’s intense stare.
“What’s not to like?” Michel smiled, and Leila realized how much she missed that smile.
“True.” She smiled, “now catch something so we can have a nice supper.”
“Whatever you say sister.” He released her, tugging on her braid. “You are staying for dinner my friend?”
Leila continued chopping vegetables, not looking at him. She reminded herself she was a married woman with a child, not a young maiden, looking for a husband.
“Let’s get going Michel, if we plan on catching anything.”
Michel nodded, following Christian already out the door.

Long Ago Moments Remembered

2010-06-01T12:46:00.004-04:00

As Christian lie back, soaking in the hot water he reflected back to Josette as he often did as he reclined in his bath. Maybe it was feeling relaxed him or being totally alone that allowed him to drop his guard and allow her to creep back into his waking thoughts. They had shared some of their deepest secrets while soaking in her bath after a night of love making. It was as if they were cocooned against the petty politics of both their kind.

Christian chuckled to himself as he remembered them, luxuriating in her bathtub. Her body glistened from the steamy, warm water. He picked up a strand of her wet hair.
“So now what, Madame Delacore?”
She smiled back at him and he was lost in her emerald eyes. There was nothing he would not do for her, well, almost nothing.
“What is your wish, Christian?” His name rolled off her tongue.
“Perhaps you could be dissuaded to leave Gaétan and come to me.” He brushed her wet cheek as he ran his fingers down her neck. She trembled under his touch but held his gaze.
“Would you like having a mortal mistress?”
“I want you.” He whispered as his lips found the pulse of her neck. She surrendered to him, yet he fought the urge and pulled back.
“And what of Michel?” She whispered, “I sense he hates me.”
“Michel is very covetous of our friendship. He does not want to share me with anyone, living or dead.”
“I can’t say I blame him.”She raised one foot up through the water and wiggled her toes.
“I would be lying if I thought this would be easy. Gaétan hates me and Gabrielle will despise us both once she loses me.” He tried to grab her foot but she pulled her knees up to her chest without as much as a ripple. Christian knew Michel would come around in time, but Gabrielle and Gaétan were another story.
“What is it?” She asked; her eyes suddenly darker, her face worried.
“I worry about you, Jo, you’re just ---”
“Please don’t,” she smiled, yet he knew she was pretending to be strong for his sake.
“Gaétan cannot hold onto me without my consent. He is powerless to stop me and he knows it.”
“If he feels about you as I do then he will never let you go.”
“You overestimate my charm, Christian.”

She smiled up at him and for a moment he wondered what it would be like to have her by his side for all eternity. Would their love remain as it did at this moment, or would it be subject to the ravishes of time, even though they would not? He loved her scent and the rhythm of her blood coursing through her veins. The sound of her heart beating soothed him and her warm skin made him feel safe and secure.

He was not sure he would ever want to give that up, despite the simple fact that she would grow older and die; unless he turned her. She was willing, yet how could he tell her that it was her very mortality that attracted him and held him to her? It was complicated and there was no solution other than to let her go when the time came, leave her and endure the pain of her absence.

But for now, there was no one else, no place he could ever imagine himself being, other than in her arms, gazing into her dark eyes.

Musings of a Vampire

2010-05-20T15:45:00.002-04:00

I am a phantom who moves from place to place: Paris, London, the American West. We presently live in New York. Who is the ‘we’ you ask? Michel Baptiste and I. My dearest friend since childhood. The man I followed into darkness in the year of our Lord 1757. I was twenty years old. What did I know of consequences? I simply feared losing my best friend. Neither of us could comprehend the repercussions of our choice. All we knew was the beautiful and sensual Gabrielle, our lover and our maker. She was the guide who led us on a journey of lust and blood as we wove our way into the fabric of French society.

How can I impress upon you what its’ like to be a man and monster, seducer and slayer? The beautiful Gabrielle ruled over the Parisian vampires with Gaétan, a much older vampire. What they could not control with their beauty, they destroyed. All succumbed to their demands of loyalty and subservience, or died. I have never been good at subservience nor indiscriminate murder. I had Michel and I was happy to co-exist with my friend. I was also a painter of portraits and I loved immersing myself in the world of canvas and oil paints.

Nevertheless, things always change. Her name was Josette and it was the summer of 1787. She was a young mortal, married to a minor aristocrat named Luc Delacore and the mistress of Gaétan. We had all heard the rumors of her exotic beauty but nothing prepared me for our introduction.

Michel and I met them one night, strolling arm in arm on the Pont Neuf. As I gazed into her emerald eyes I realized how lost and lonely I had become. I was barely able to say much more than hello. All the rumors were true and as the ground shifted and time stopped I fell in love with her. Not long after both of us forsook our vampire lovers for one another.
Gaétan grew to hate me even more and Gabrielle felt I had abandoned her for a mortal; and even then Michel was my protector, forever watching out for others who grew more jealous of me.

The war of the mortals affected even the undead, dividing us and straining the tenuous bloody bonds that held us together. I had always hated politics and avoided war just as Michel and I ignored the feuding of our own kind but when the revolution was upon us, life as I knew it was no more.

Josette had a daughter named Solange. She was a beautiful little girl with dark hair and green eyes. Fearing their arrest she asked me to take the child and give her to a family that could provide for her. Reluctantly I honored her request. I knew of many French families fleeing to England. I would have no difficulty finding one to take the child.

Many nights I debated whether or not to turn Josette, yet to become immortal was something I swore I would never bestow upon another person. Great power is great responsibility and I feared both. To this day I cannot understand the logic that kept me from turning her and being happy. For she was the love of my life and I still feel responsible for her death.

I assured her that Solange would be safe, but I had no idea what was to come for any of us. Life is never what it seems and despite being vampires, Michel and I became victims of fate and time, just like you with your plans and dreams, hopes and wishes. I had no idea where my commitment to Solange would take us, but I invite you to come join us on our journey.

Christian Du Mauré

I must be mad

2010-05-11T16:57:00.006-04:00

1737 February 12th

What I am about to write is true, though I am not sure how to put pen to paper and describe it. Let me back up. The snow finally stopped and the men went outside to dig us out. When I heard them leave I decided to explore Monsieur Martins' room as his manner had my curiosity piqued.

Not knowing what I might find, I ventured into his room any way. All seemed in order when suddenly I was hit with a case of guilt. I turned to go yet there he was, standing in the doorway. I could not read the look in his grey eyes. They seemed at once angry yet amused, if that is possible.

I tried to explain my presence but I could not speak nor come up with a rational reason for being there. His eyes held me and seemed to caress me and I froze, unable to move nor ask him to step aside. I thought he should step aside, being an officer of the king, but he just stood there, staring down at me.

I felt my heart in my throat when suddenly he was so close I could smell the outdoors on his skin. I tried to speak... I think I said something like I must go now, but I am not sure if the words actually came out or if I just thought them. I was so compelled to touch him and as if he willed it, I touched his cheek. It was cold, most likely from being outdoors though I noticed he wore no coat nor hat.

As if dancing a waltz we moved as one and suddenly I was pressed up against the bedroom door. It shut gently trapping us together. With no words between us I..... I cannot write the next bit... it was as if I were on fire and only he could cool me. He pulled me by my hair and kissed me. It was rough but I did not fight him or fear him.

I thought about my husband and then as if drugged, all thoughts of him fell away. It was only Andreas and I who mattered and as his cold lips ran down my neck I closed my eyes. He said nothing as he pulled me closer, gently loosening my gown. I felt it open yet I did not fight him. I wanted him and as he gently picked me up off the ground I wrapped my legs around him and like an animal he drew blood, my blood.

It stained my skin as it ran down my neck but still I could not resist him nor his cold body. I think I was in a trance for even as he drank from me, it felt like a wonderful dream I did not want to ever wake from.... even now I think that I must be mad.

Another Entry

2010-04-20T20:10:00.002-04:00

1737, February, 10th

I am writing this fireside in our boudoir.

I finally saw Monsieur Martin this evening. Whenever he looks as me I feel as though the floor has tilted and I am unable to keep my balance. I could not help but stare though tried not to make eye contact whenever he looked at me. He's unnerving so I ate dinner quickly and excused myself, feigning a headache.

I must note that I swear Andreas barely touched either the soup or the hot bread. François could not get enough to eat or thank me enough for his meal. I promised myself to remain here. I can’t bear to be near Andreas. It’s a combination of curiosity and pure desire.

He’s a total stranger who stirs me and fills my mind with thoughts that make me blush. I want to go to him but I cannot, so, its best that I stay confined to my room. Philippe has been a wonderful host, entertaining our two guests.

Meanwhile it continues to snow...

Eleanore's Diary

2010-03-22T12:32:00.002-04:00

1737, February, 9th

I am not sure how to begin. It was just at sunset when Philippe noticed two horsemen on the road. I don’t know how he saw them for it has been snowing for a day now with no signs of stopping. Apparently a group of King Louis militia got lost on their way to Paris. The two commanding officers got separated from their men and landed here. They told us that the roads are impassable, which is not surprising. They are welcome to stay for there is nowhere for them to go now.

We have given them each a petite boudoir on the first floor near the salle à manger; rooms for our children one day, but for now they are empty and will serve the officers well. They are down the hall from our boudoir, affording us all some privacy. Thank goodness we have stores of food to feed them, for I imagine they will be with us for at least a week.

In some ways, it is nice to have company. It is so desolate here, yet watching the snow fall is so beautiful, so peaceful and quiet. Besides Philippe and I are two servants. The rest have gone home to their families for the winter. In spring time they will return to us.

Philippe is a quite man, prone to dark moods and perhaps it is his age, but he is so serious, so content to share his time with drink and not with me. I never thought I minded, as I thought this was the way of things, of an arranged marriage made out of convenience with no love to be considered. Now I am not so sure and in a strange was it’s the presence of these two officers that has stirred me up and got me thinking that perhaps there is more to the union between a man and a woman than convenience and necessity.

The first seems to be no more than a boy, perhaps fifteen as I am or a year or two older. I can’t remember his name but he seems kind enough. His table manners are quite good and he converses easily with us. He smiles frequently which I find him amusing. But it is the other officer, a Monsieur Andreas Martin who has me so intrigued. He’s handsome but it’s more than just being handsome. There’s something dark and commanding in him that calls to me. I find myself staring at him, which is impolite for a married woman.

Dark auburn hair frames a sculpted, stern face and his voice caresses my skin. But it is his eyes, the color of the ocean in wintertime, that look right through me and make my skin flush and my knees wobble under my skirt, and a feeling, I get about him. A feeling that he comes from some distant place, a place unknowable, cruel and barren. Someplace not of this world.

Like Seeing a Ghost

2010-03-10T14:58:00.004-05:00

I am trying to write a scene.... The main character meets up with someone he has not seen in ......many years, I'll put it that way. The best way for me to get into that mindset is to try to imagine how I would react. At first I would imagine it would be like seeing a ghost. I would not believe my eyes.

First there is our conversation. I would listen to their voice, remembering how they spoke, the types of words they used and try to access if it was really them. Everyone's laughter is unique, their own signature as well as their voice.

Then of course there are their mannerisms. Body language, the way they smile, the way their eyes light up. All the parts of a person we may not even be consciously aware of, yet are so familiar and so distinct. These are the parts of a person that makes them recognizable to us.

It's like being on the boardwalk [for all you beach people] and seeing someone approaching through the crowd. It's not just one thing, but a series of clues that mark them as familiar. It may be their height, their walk; how they might move their arms or toss their hair from side to side.

Suppose their hair is lighter or darker, longer or much shorter now? Imagine their wardrobe being so foreign to you that it's hard to believe it's really them. You remember them in knickers and a frock coat and now they are wearing a three piece suit!

All these thoughts pass through my mind before the emotional response registers. What's it like to see them after all this time? Where do you begin? How was our relationship left in the past? If it was a love affair, is it ever really in the past? Would I cry? Be angry or sad over seeing them now?

For my character, it's all of the above, plus so much more; like seeing a ghost from the past.

Taking a Peek

2010-03-08T12:02:00.003-05:00

I am an intuitive writer. I have a general idea how things are going to go in a particular chapter but then I begin to write and something happens. The characters have a life all their own and sometimes I am forced to go back and scrap a particular section. I know my characters but even I like surprises at times. I like it when Christian is impulsive and does something without thinking it through, or Michel expresses deep feelings or even cries. Once in a blue moon Josette will get flustered and drop that regal guard of hers and become a mess of raw nerves or Amanda will fight back instead of withdrawing in her world of academia and art.

One of the themes in my novels is secrets: everyone has them and no one is who them seem to be, whether human or vampire. You can't judge a book by it's cover in this world and that is both a blessing and a curse. Even vampires need to believe in the safety and security of their relationships and their world. When either are threatened, all hell breaks loose. Christian will have his world rocked in so many ways he will not be sure of anything. It's like a paradigm shift, a totally new way of thinking or experiencing the world. He has always taken refuge in the stability of his relationship with his best friend Michel, his former lover, Josette, his autocratic father.

Being aloof and a loner does not absolve him from pain and suffering, or lies and deceit from those he loves. He has such high standards that lying just isn't in his reality. Unfortunately, it is a way of life for almost everyone around him and although it takes several hundred years, it all comes crashing down around him. Don't get me wrong, he tells himself lies when he doesn't want to take a good hard look. Why not, we all do it at times. Why should he be any different? Sometimes we take a peek and can still believe our reality has not changed. At other times, taking a peek throws open a door that floods us with too many things that make it impossible to go back through. We just won't fit.

When Christian discovers that his life has been held together by forces he can't even imagine, he must either make certain choices or die. Isn't that the way of things for each of us? We can accept or reject something or someone but in doing so we have made a choice and hopefully, we trust our gut instinct to carry us through to the other side. To a place where we know who we are and what is waiting for us.

My Mind's' Eye

2010-02-08T20:12:00.007-05:00

I met up with a friend for lunch yesterday. She was my next door neighbor growing up and being only 2 1/2 years apart we played together as children. We sledded in snow, dressed up in our mom's old clothes, climbed trees and played "house" with our dolls. Some of the first photos I ever took are of her and I remember dreading it when she would leave for summer camp.

We continued to stay in touch, even in college. I went to school in Europe and then out West and she went to art school in NYC. We would travel together both in the US and abroad and as we grew up and older we kept in contact. She and I both went through some rough times and we were always there for one another: broken hearts and dreams. I remember the day of my wedding when she took one look at me in my gown and burst into tears. I have a photo of she and my mom together that day and it makes me both happy and extremely sad.

Throughout our relationship we went through periods when we drifted and didn't talk much. Right around 9/11 we hit a rough patch and it seemed our relationship was over and then something happened, I'm not even sure what it was exactly, but we began to reach out to one another and yesterday we finally met up again.

When I saw her I cried. She is still so beautiful, the friend I remember from my youth. She felt the same about me, reminding me that despite how grown up I looked, in her minds eye I was still that high school kid, smoking cigarettes, trying to be cool, not having a care in the world.

I began to think about everyone I love. How do I picture them in my mind? At what point in their lives are they captured in my minds eye? I carry an image of each of them and attached to that image are such powerful feelings. My friend is a wife and a mother but to me she is just my old friend, ageless and timeless.

I kept staring at her, remembering every line and freckle and marveling at how little she had changed, not just in a few years but since our youth. Even though we have aged, she showed little evidence of it and for a moment I felt like we had cheated time.

Ironically, in my second novel, one of the main characters meets up with someone he though was long gone from his life. His reaction to her as he stares at her face and into her eyes is one of utter shock. Not to give much away, but he finds himself face to face with a living breathing memory of a woman who lived in his mind's eye. I try to capture his emotion when he thinks about her and how to convey what is churning inside of him: shock, joy, pain and sadness.

Vampires don't age but they grow and change just like the rest of us. And just like our friends and lovers, this woman still holds the key to such powerful memories and history for him. She exists in both her world and in his mind's eye as time keeps moving, wrapping them both in it's illusory embrace.

The printed word

2010-02-03T08:24:00.003-05:00

Just yesterday I was talking with a friend about this age we live in as being so fast and so disposable. It's not just about technology, wanting newer and better, but about the speed in which we travel, whether to the grocery store or across the country. Though it is hard to imagine life without ipods, cell phones or airplanes, I can't help but focus on books. Now we can down load books onto our desktops, kindles or various other electronic devices.

Another friend of mine who commutes into NYC every day once raved about these devices as she could carry many books with her in one device. When I saw her last week, she pulled out a paperback book she was currently reading and though her focus was on how interesting the book was, I could not help but wonder if she was still using other "devices" to read. I didn't have the heart to ask.

Reading along with buying books has always been one of my favorite activities. I remember a time when I dare not read a paperback. It had to be hard cover all the way. Obviously, my point of view has changed, but not my love of books or of reading. I meet a friend of mine once a week for coffee at our local Barnes and Noble. I also get a chance to peruse the store and I must admit I am hard pressed not to buy something. [Yesterday I bought The Snow Thieves by Elizabeth Kostova and The Flirt by Laurell K. Hamilton].

Reading is a need for me, like sleeping or breathing . It's one of the last things I do at night. I can't imagine a winter night not sitting in front of my fireplace reading a good book. It's a relationship I forged as a child that sustains me and is as important as my marriage, my friendships or my family.

As I walk through Barnes and Noble I realize I am not the only one who loves the printed word, or who views a 600 page novel as an invitation into another world and can't wait to get on board. As a writer hoping to be published, I am in awe of those who are and as I jump from book to book reading the jacket or the acknowledgement page I thank them.

I dream of the day someone might be reading my book jacket or my acknowledgement page and thanking me for keeping the printed word alive and inviting them on a journey into another world. Who knows, right?

The world of the Writer

2010-01-30T14:50:00.002-05:00

Writing a novel requires the ability to inhabit two worlds. There's your day to day life: grocery shopping, work, exercise, the street you live on, the people you meet day to day, your husband, wife, children, siblings...your favorite restaurant. The familiar components of your world.

When I turn on my computer and click into the icon for Blood Kiss, I pass through a portal into another world and another time. In this world I walk in the boots of Christian Du Maure, a vampire born in eighteen century France who now lives in Manhattan. Sometimes I am a spectator, dancing in a club called the Grey Wolf that he owns, sometimes I am back in Meudon France, with him as a mortal youth, riding through his lands, understanding his hopes and dreams for his future.

Then there is the seductive Gabrielle. I watch as she seduces both Christian and his friend, the beautiful Michel Baptiste and lures them into the world of the vampire. They are so young and innocent with no concept of the road ahead for them. I feel the love they both share for the mortal Josette Delacore, or the hatred they have for the vampire Gaetan, their rival throughout time.

I live inside all of my characters, from the mortal woman who love the undead to the undead themselves, with their wily ways and dark embraces. Sometimes it's hard to make the transition back to my day to day, especially when I spend hours at a time writing. Sometimes it feels schizophrenic and I am not sure whose voice is speaking to me when I write. I just know that I have to get it down on paper.

I love my characters and I am committed to bringing them to life and hopefully, bringing them to more readers once I find a publisher. I am forever optimistic as I jump back and forth between the grocery store and the Grey Wolf, balancing each world.

I'm here

2010-01-24T13:54:00.002-05:00

I had a wonderful Christmas and New Years and oh my goodness, it's almost the end of January! Where the hell does the time go? When I was working full-time I had no time and since I have not been gainfully employed I seem to have less time. How does that happen? I have reread parts one and two of Blood Kiss (working title) and am moving into part three.

Christian has just learn much about his past and that it is populated with people who have always been there but he has never known until now. It's almost mind blowing for him as his priorities are suddenly shuffled once again. What priorities you may ask can a vampire have beyond his or her next seduction or next meal, or both at the same time, as the case may be, but Christian is not just an ordinary vampire.

To learn just what Christian is truly made of you will have to wait until I finish Blood Kiss and find a publisher for not only this book but my debut novel, Immortal Obsession.

Happy New Year

2009-12-23T06:37:00.004-05:00

As I pack up and head off to warmer weather for a few weeks I cannot help but reflect on this year and this decade. Quite a bumpy ride, this one, yet filled with both sadness and great discovery. This decade will go down in the books for me. I mean that in the most positive way.

I hope that the New Year brings all of you much happiness, joy, peace and fulfillment. I have my resolutions: find a publisher, continue to meditate daily as well as exercise, be kind, have faith, etc. I used to make lists but I have finally culled it down to a few important ones: be honest, keep to my word, live with intention.

God Bless.

Just an Update

2009-12-09T13:24:00.003-05:00

I am currently in the midst of Blood Kiss, the working title for the second novel in The Enchanted Bloodline Series. In Immortal Obsession, two young men are seduced by the beautiful, dark vampire Gabrielle, into the world of vampires in 18th century France. They flee Paris in 1790 and settle in London. Presently Michel Baptiste and Christian Du Maure live in New York City. Christian is obsessed yet distant from mortal Amanda Peretti, but fate brings them together. The title also suggests an obsession that two other vampires hold for Christian and the price he must pay.

In book II, Christian learns that sometimes the past does return to haunt you. There are several new characters, including a group of ancient vampires that live in the catacombs of Paris. Their role is to maintain order in their world by a stringent set of rules. When Christian comes to their attention, he learns the true meaning of love and loyalty from a most unlikely source.

As I finish Blood Kiss in draft, I am already thinking about book III which is tentatively titled, Eternal Thirst. I am having portraits done for all the main characters by a talented artist and friend. Once completed I will be launching my website and this blog will become a part of it. I have several publishers reading Immortal Obsession and I hope to hear good news from them soon.

Thank you for dropping by.

Denise

Thanksgiving

2009-11-17T17:26:00.003-05:00

I can't believe it but Thanksgiving is almost here. I would be lying if I said the holiday will be easy this year. It will be different without my mom present and in a way I am grateful that I will be away. There's something about palm trees and basking in the sun to make one forget their sorrows. I have so much to be thankful for, it's hard to mourn. I am not one for self-pity, never was and can't bring myself to go there now.

I am constantly reminded of the gifts both my parents gave me that carry me forward today. Yes, I will always miss them but when I reflect on my childhood, we had some classic Thanksgiving dinners. My large Italian family would gather around our diningroom table and I felt so happy yet so small surrounded by so many "large" personalities. My family tends to be loud, talking over each other to make their point. Our parties are boisterious affairs filled with much laughter.

I and my siblings will all be apart this year and though we had a family celebration last weekend, we will only be together in spirit on Thanksgiving Day, talking to one another on the phone across the miles.

That will just have to do.

In the Midst of Book II- Blood Kiss (Working Title)

2009-11-09T19:36:00.004-05:00

Christian has come to quite the realization about his true parentage. Not to give too much away, but the person whose genes he carries is not the man who raised him after his mother died of small pox in 1745. It is only now, in the twenty-first century that he discovers who his real father is and how their destiny's have been intertwined since he was a child in Meudon, France.

He also learns something startling about the love of his life, Josette Delacore, a mortal whom he left behind and who died by the guillotine in 1790. Sometimes the past refuses to remain as such and when confronted with it centuries later, it may make you feel blessed, or perhaps you feel as though you have gone mad.

Either way, there's no turning back from the pain and the people you left there.

Memories of Love

2009-10-21T12:26:00.003-04:00

In thinking about Josette Delacore, I find myself wondering, do I still love her or is it the memory of her that I love? Forgive me. I must admit that at times, my memories of her and of us sustain me and at other times they hurt so much. I know our love is no more. She has been dead for centuries now and yet when I look back, she was the one. Our love existed once, in a place long gone. A place that lives only in my memories, along with her. I am not the same man I was then; a newly made blood sucker who saw her one summer night on the Pont-Neuf walking with another immortal, a vampire I hated even before I fell in love with Josette and stole her from him.

But I digress.

I was thinking about memory and how it can be both a blessing and a curse, even for a vampire. Though we do not physically age, we must grow and change or die. How we achieve this is something Michel and I have debated on more than one occasion. How we both choose to move through times is also very personal to each of us. I can no more be the mortal I was at twenty, or the vampire I was in the eighteenth century. We all must change and adapt. Nothing stays the same; no one and no place can remain constant. The universe does not work this way. Trust me. We are fools to think that what was will always be.

Time separates us immortals from all of you humans. It changes, alters, reshapes, whatever word you choose...time re- sculpts each of us like a potter holding a brick of wet clay in his bare hands. When the world shifts and becomes unrecognizable, our memories are the glue that holds all the pieces of us together. I suppose in that regard, all of us are equals. Love is love and loss is loss. I suppose it is what we choose to hold onto that saves us, which memories will redeem us and make us smile, despite the chasm of time.

Once Michel and I were in Barnes and Noble and he picked up a book of quotes and began to read them randomly. When he got to "it's never too late to have a happy childhood" he had to put the book down he was laughing so hard, but it made me think about my own life and how much I hated what I had chosen to become: a vampire. Maybe I was looking at it all wrong and so I have tried to view my death and rebirth through a new lens, one of joy and not pain. Funny, but it seems to have helped, but these memories of love still haunt me. I haven't been able to find a suitable quote to ease the pain of it, though I keep looking.

Christian

The Abyss

2009-10-07T11:29:00.004-04:00

After a typical rampage in London’s East End, vampires Christian and Michel returned home to bed down for the day. Grieving over the loss of his beloved mortal lover, Christian had continued his rampage, unable to stop himself. Leaving Paris for London had done nothing but fuel the flames of his anger and self-hatred. Why had he left Josette behind to die?
Christian slid into his coffin, exhausted as the death-like sleep descended, just as he had every morning since 1757, when as a young man of twenty, he and Michel had been turned by the seductive and beautiful Gabrielle.
A clanging sound pierced his thoughts as he fought sleep.
It was the sound of chains.
“Michel!” He screamed banging on the coffin lid as he heard the rattle of heavy chains sealing him inside. “What are you doing?”
Oh, my god, he is locking me in. He clawed at the lid tearing fingernails until blood ran down his arms, screaming Michel’s name, begging Michel to release him.
“I love you my friend.” Michel’s explained, his voice echoing in Christian’s head.
“I want you to live but not like the animal you have become. You have gone mad over her.”
Christian knew he had lost all humanity after Josette’s death. He indiscriminately killed mortals; young and old, man and woman, until the act of killing could no longer sate him. There was no cure and perhaps Michel was right and he had gone mad with grief. He tried to rationalize with Michel, begging him to set him free, but the death- like sleep took him just as it had done every night, only this time he would awake in darkness, a prisoner at the mercy of his best friend.
Michel would come to him every night and talk, perched atop his coffin, reporting everything happening in London or with the French vampires back in Paris.
As time passed, Christian no longer felt his body. It was as if only his mind existed. How long could he stay trapped in here and not shrivel up in the darkness?
Eventually he stopped asking Michel how long he had been imprisoned. It was no use as Michel would never answer him. If he asked when he might be freed, Michel would simply say, soon. He lost all feeling, all hunger. It was as if he were a thought, a mind floating in time and space with no beginning or end. There was only nothingness and it had embraced him like the darkness.
Then one night Michel did not come. Christian called out to him in his thoughts, begging him to come back, hoping that to reach him through their blood connection, but there was no answer. It was like Michel had disappeared. He tried not to panic believing Michel would return and all would be well. Michel had always been there. Ever since they were children in Meudon France they had been inseparable. Nothing would change.
Suppose Michel is dead. I will rot here.
When the silence became unbearable, he thought about Josette. He had refused to turn her though she had begged for what she called his dark gift. Some gift, he thought, it has brought me nothing but pain and despair. She had begged and he had said no, over and over again, and now she was gone, dead; taken from him forever. Why had he been so stubborn, so selfish? Why could he not bring them happiness? Josette would get eternal life and he would get Josette. He had no answers, just as he had nothing now. No Josette, no Michel, no freedom.
He had heard about vampires being imprisoned; bloodsuckers who had gone mad with blood lust. Vampires who had lost all reason and became a threat to their kind. Gabrielle had told both he and Michel stories of vampires imprisoned for centuries. Upon their release they were either healed of their cravings or destroyed. Would Michel have the courage to destroy him if he could not keep his pain and anger under control?
He slept and dreamt and time passed in the darkness, how much time he did not know. There was nothing.
Then one night he heard a sound as if someone were whimpering. He thought it was another dream and then he smelled her….human flesh and blood. Blood moving through veins and pounding in his ears. A mortal was close by. Then the clamoring of chains rolling off his coffin deafened him. When the lid opened he tried to focus and suddenly Michel’s face was there. Christian tried to speak, but no sound came out. Strong arms lifted him gently as Michel cradled his best friend and laid him on the dirt floor.
“I have brought you a present.” Michel whispered, sitting beside him. Christian tried to focus in the half-light. He glanced down at his hands and his skin looked like translucent parchment paper barely covering his bones. His clothes must have rotted away. God, how much time has passed?
His attention turned to the mortal girl, whimpering, not babbling, or screaming, just whimpering. Michel jumped up and dragged her towards him in the darkness. She had dark hair and her low-cut dress was stained with mud and food scraps. Christian assumed she was a prostitute.
“Sit down here my little one.” Michel whispered into her ear, pushing her down onto the floor next to Christian.
“Don’t worry my friend she has no idea where she is.”
Suddenly, a silver dagger appeared as Michel cut his own arm, just inside his wrist. Christian watched the dark blood pool up on his pale skin. He leaned over Christian pushing his bleeding arm towards his face. Christian tried to move his jaw to no avail. It had been so long. Michel sucked his own blood then gently brushed his blood soaked lips onto Christian’s mouth.
He gasped then latched onto Michel like a newborn baby at its’ mothers’ breast. He felt Michel tremble as he took his blood.
God, how I have missed you Michel, Christian thought, as Michel’s warm blood ran down his throat, feeling his mind come alive once more as every muscle, ligament and tendon began to expand. At first he felt as if he would be sick, and pulled away, but it passed and then he felt ravenous, needing more blood.
“Come Christian, take her,” Michel commanded, grabbing the girl. Michel brushed her hair back from her face with his long white fingers. The girl lay limpid in Michel’s arms, staring blankly at Christian.
Michel exposed her pale neck while Christian sat staring back at her, unable to speak or move. Michel waved the dagger and quickly punctured her white throat making two small marks in her dirty skin. Her eyes grew larger as blood flowed down her dress, but she barely moved.
“Take her my friend,” Michel whispered as he held her against him. With difficulty, Christian was able to get onto his knees. He tried to move, which was painful at first. His bones felt as though they would crumble but her fluttering heartbeat called to him and he slowly moved towards her.
Suddenly she screamed and tried to wiggle away then Christian fell upon her. She struggled until he buried his teeth in her neck. She stopped squirming as he drank and her life-force ebbed as he filled himself up. She went limp under him as he drank and drank.
The pounding of her heart in his head was his signal to release her but he could not stop. He continued until her body went cold in his arms. He laid her down gently on the dirt floor and rolled over, trying to sit up.
Michel smiled, brushing Christians’ hair out of his face. His once wavy hair now hung down his back like a blond cape.
“Forgive me, mon ami. It was the only way to save you.”
“How long Michel?” Christian croaked, startled at the sound of his own words.
“Fifty years, Michel confessed. “It is the year of our Lord, 1841, and believe me, London is not the same place you remember.”
Christian sighed, not trusting himself to stand up just yet.
Michel hugged him again, “I can bring you others if you would like.”
“I think you better bring me some clothes first,” Christian asked, noticing Michel’s clothing for the first time. “What are you wearing?”
"Welcome back my friend.”

Josette's Diary

2009-09-21T15:56:00.004-04:00

His name is Christian, but that doesn't matter. How is it that I get tongue-tied when I see him. My heart flutters when we meet and forget trying to speak to him. I am so distracted, all I can do is stare. His face remains a mask, his features still and unmoving, yet I feel him watching me. I know he wants me just as I pine for him. It's nothing said, just felt and yet he knows I belong to Gaetan, one of the most powerful vampires in the city. Does it matter to him?

It's his dark eyes that consume me. When I look into them I feel like I am being swallowed up like the inky, dark ocean on a moonlit night. I want him to devour me; skin and bones, flesh and blood; heart and soul. I have never felt this way about another man, and yet, I find this impossible to tell him. It seems so trite and meaningless. You say little yet read my thoughts, finish my sentences. It's unnerving yet comforting as we stand and stare at one another, across the room, across time, familiar and yet so different, silent and yet so full of emotions.

I sense he has been through the fire and come out the other side, despite his youthful appearance, despite his poise and calm. I want him, no matter the cost.

Is this love or madness?

It's that time again

2009-09-10T13:46:00.002-04:00

Every year I say to myself, another year has passed so I won’t feel the sadness and loss this time. Once September rolls around with muted sunlight and cooler air, it hits me all over again. I get that knot in my stomach as I am thrust back to the moment when I heard the mention of “a planning hitting the World Trade Center” and I thought it was a private, two-seater that had the ungodly bad luck of hitting a skyscraper.

My mind reels as I remember that day, as crystal clear as that morning sky. Well….. Here we are eight years later and I still don’t believe it. Sounds crazy I know, but as time goes by I find it harder to reconcile and to understand. Perhaps because we have not caught the mastermind behind these attacks, or that the sight where the towers stood seems so undone. There seems to be such little closure even now.

I still ask myself what if it happened again. I think about loved ones and my only thought is how do I round them all up and where do we escape to? How do all the people I love live happily ever after? Where would we all go? I swore after 9/11 that I would keep a packed suitcase under my bed, along with water, walkie-talkies, boxes of contact lenses and a mental note of what I would take with me in case I had to evacuate.

Call it denial, but all my empty luggage is stacked up in the basement and although I have lots of bottled water, I have yet to buy walkie-talkies or extra contacts, and how could I possibly ever discern what I would take with me? I have too much stuff! Plus, where would I put all of my family…I mean there are a lot of us! I guess we could take over a hotel or something, but where would we meet up and eventually live? Some of us like the beach, and some of us like the mountains. How would we choose?

So, I spend the day reflecting, praying and trying to come to terms with it. I reach out to family and friends, thanking them, feeling nothing but gratitude. I let them all know what they all mean to me. I still get choked up. It always seems to be a quiet day, no matter where I go and what I do, there’s a stillness in the air, a solemn, somber feeling as I muddle through the day, and yet I still have hope for our future and a belief in the inherent goodness of humanity.

I can’t see it any other way…maybe that’s why I can’t pack my bags or hoard extra contacts, or plan my escape route. It can’t happen again, I ask. Can it?

At the Grey Wolf

2009-08-21T12:46:00.004-04:00

Their eyes locked as she came closer. It was then that she saw the dark-haired man behind the bar that Christian had been talking to. He wore a short black bolero jacket open to his waist, exposing a white chest. He moved with unusual grace and speed for a man, pulling down glasses and mixing drinks while talking on his cell phone and flirting with women at the bar.
“That’s Christian, isn’t it?” Bethany yelled at Amanda. “That’s the guy from the park. My god, that bartender is beautiful.”
Amanda nodded, unable to take her eyes off Christian. The bartender was beautiful, almost too beautiful for Amanda. Like a Ming vase that you put on display. Not someone I would ever want to . . .
He glanced at Amanda and smiled as if he had read her thoughts. He nodded slowly and she tried to pull away from his gaze. He’s looking at me as if he can read my mind. She turned to say something, but Bethany seemed to be in a trance. Amanda took her friend’s hand and pulled her closer to the bar.
Christian nodded, making room for the two women. “Ms. Perretti, what a coincidence.”
She noticed that the bartender had come closer, dangling a wine glass by the stem.
“Michel, this is Amanda Perretti.” Christian gestured as if he were presenting her.
Amanda felt Michel’s eyes peer into her as if she were under his personal microscope, yet she could get no read on him. She felt as though she had smacked up against an invisible wall.
“Welcome to the Grey Wolf,” he said, and she heard the trace of a French accent.
Then he smiled and kissed her hand before she could react.
Amanda could not believe her luck. “This is my best friend Bethany Daniels.”
Bethany nodded, unable to take her eyes off both men.
“What is your pleasure this evening?” Michel’s voice felt like silk wrapping around her. He reminds me of Thomas in a weird way, she thought. Maybe it’s the way his voice makes me feel.
“I’ll have a glass of Merlot, thanks,” Bethany blurted out and reached for her purse.
“Nothing for me, thank you.” Amanda waved her hand.
“It’s on the house, my beauty.” He smiled and pushed the wine glass toward her.
Michel seemed young, with his smooth skin and flirtatious manner. In fact, they both looked young, yet their eyes spoke of age and pain. Christian’s were especially bottomless, yet sensual, while Michel’s seemed icy and cold under all his bravado. She sensed a deep connection between them.
Out of habit, Christian flipped his hair behind him. “So we meet again?”
“They say that meeting once is coincidence but meeting twice is fate.” Michel said and winked at her.

Leave the Ring On

2009-07-30T12:26:00.005-04:00

Christian noticed the promise ring on Josettes' left hand and wondered if she would come to him despite it. He imagined her in the silence of the night, whispering soft words to him alone as her pulse pounded in his head. She tasted sweet yet salty, he imagined, as he lay more than one kiss on her warm skin. Yes, leave the ring on, he thought, for commitment truly lives only in the heart, and marriage, well he felt bound to her the moment their eyes met. He imagined her standing before him, dropping her inhibitions along with each article of her exquisite clothing until there was no more of either.

She said nothing as she took his hand and for that he was grateful. Words ruined moments like this one. Words so often debased deep emotion, laying waste to those feelings that are ineffable; and this moment was truly indescribable. Her beauty was beyond all words and his desire for her, all consuming. When she reached up to touch his face the promise ring caught the moonlight and sparkled, like starlight from the heavens. Yes, I truly am in heaven, he thought, as he kissed the inside of her wrist.

Yes, by all means, leave the ring on.

My Muse Returns

2009-07-23T13:30:00.002-04:00

He's back folks.

My beautiful, intense, imaginative muse. After my mom passed away, I simply could not write and I gently tried to explain that to my muse. He understood, but still....he wants to get this second book finished and then move onto the third. You know how stubborn a muse can be!

I have really missed writing and hopefully now, I can pick up where I left off and begin to end my second novel in this series. I think we are back in business, my muse and I. My grief is there yet so is my muse, and he wants me to write. He knows how the creative spirit can rise like a flame out of the ashes to give the world another great story.

Watching Josette In Eglise Saint Germain l' Aurrerrois

2009-07-10T11:55:00.003-04:00

Christian sat diagonally to her left just out of her line of vision. The mortal heartbeats, slow and rhythmic, echoed off the vaulted ceiling here in the holiest of places. The sound soothed him. He wondered how she had managed to find her way into Gaetan's bed. He had sat by her side at the opera, so protecttively, so covetous of the beautiful mortal girl. Christian remembered how she glanced at him when she though no one was looking. He had done the same, being totally distracted by her. He felt sparks between them from the moment they had met and he wondered if their mutual attraction bled through the veneer of their manners and the protocol that governed both their lives. She was a swirling mass of contradictions. Who was the girl underneath the intelligent eyes and warm smile? He could not help himself for wanting to find out.

"What are you doing here?" A familiar voice whispered in his ear.
MIchel sat down beside him and quickly scanned the crowd until he spotted Josette. "Ah."
"What are you doing here?" Christian asked not taking his eyes off the girl.
"Looking for you." Michel's soft voice moved over him in waves. Then he leaned closer.
"At the risk of sticking my nose where it does not belong, I think you have a death wish, my friend."
Christian leaned even closer to his best friend. "I'm already dead, remember?"

Amanda Remembers

2009-06-25T11:50:00.002-04:00

"Ryan's killer will be found." Ross said, quickly changing the subject.
"He was a homeless drug addict. He can't be your priority. Please Detective."
"I am doing my best, Ms. Perretti."
"Someone slit my brother's throat and left him to bleed to death. I would be dead now if not for Christian."

Ross leaned back in his chair and and put his hands behind his neck, watching the beautiful Amanda. She was right, though. Ryan's killer would remain a mystery, the case unsolved. He stared into her emerald eyes, wondering how he could lie to someone so beautiful and smart, and a victim who by all rights deserved answers. He had heard her name floating through the club, like cigarette smoke, and now here she was, sitting across from him, demanding answers that were not his to give to her.

Amanda remembered Ross being there when she awoke in the ER. He had questioned her repeatedly. He told her about the couple from England who had stumbled upon both she and Ryan. Her description of Ryan's murder, including monsters with fangs and men wielding machetes, seemed to be the stuff of horror movies and nightmares, explained to her as a delusion, post-traumatic stress syndrome brought on by seeing her brother murdered so violently. When she had asked the police why she was still alive, they had no answers, only conjecture that the couple had scared the murderer away before he could get to her. There was no motive in her brothers' death. The fifty dollars she had given him earlier was still in his front pocket.

Exerpt- Immortal Obsession

Patience, Please!

2009-06-19T12:18:00.003-04:00

I can see him, arms folded across a thin chest, his long hair cascading over one eye, leaving half of his face in shadow as he stares down at the floor. He's not quite tapping his foot but close. He wants to get on with things, my Christian. He tells me he's been patient while I've run around taking care of family business. He's a little worried too as he waits to fulfill his destiny.

I tell him I miss him too. Here I was on a roll, completing not one but two parts of my second vampire novel. Christian was about to have a dream fulfilled, and Amanda, well she's in quite a mess, but it was moving along and then... He wants my full attention again. He is such a force, a presence that he doesn't even have to say "hey writer, remember me?" I know he's there; listening, watching, waiting to get on with things. I tell him to hang on. He's a vampire who has all the time in the world. "This may be true." He says, "but you do not!"

Time to get back to it.

In Celebration

2009-06-14T08:07:00.003-04:00

Life is full of ups and downs and my mom's life was no exception. As I reflect on her life and the gifts she gave me I am left with the following: a zest for life, an inquisitive mind, a positive outlook, and a love of the unusual along with a deep devotion to family. I have four of the best brothers a girl could ask for and an extended family where I have always found comfort and peace.

You get what you give and I continually reap the rewards of their love. John Lennon once sang "Love is the answer and you know that for sure." Yes, I believe love is the most powerful force in the universe. It keeps the living close and our loved ones who have passed even closer. I sensed both my mom and dad yesterday at our celebration for my mom's life. I know they are finally together which brings me peace as I felt them smiling down on us all.

Angeline Dorothy Rago

2009-06-02T11:21:00.004-04:00

November 7, 1919 - May 30, 2009

My mom passed away suddenly last Saturday night. Though she was elderly we are still in shock. This photo is one of my favorites, taken of her by a boyfriend of mine way back in 1971. Unfortunately, he is also deceased. The photo was taken in her kitchen in the house I grew up in and the house where she passed. Though she had her struggles, she was funny, philosophical and loved music. She taught me not to judge people by how they looked; it was how they behaved that counted. She was a very spiritual person. Though I will miss her terribly she has not left me. I imagine she is with her parents, now, who she loved so deeply and missed dearly; plus many other family members and friends, including my dad. I am trying to imagine what their reunion was like after all these years. I know she died quickly, did not suffer and left five great kids behind who loved her very much and will miss her.

Live Chat Invitation

2009-05-28T14:09:00.004-04:00

After the Platitudes

2009-05-21T10:38:00.006-04:00

As I slowly approach I feel your eyes on me. I know things about you; who you have loved and what you have lost. I read the pain on your face; in your dark eyes and I want to reach out to you and heal your pain with my embrace. Does it matter that so much separates us? Does it matter that we live in different worlds with so little to connect us?

We steal glances at one another and though I belong to another I want you. Do you feel the same? As I write this I realize how futile and empty words can be to describe our feelings, to express lust or love. These are things the body does better than the mind.

I wonder if we will ever meet and what would I say to you beyond hello. For now I have to settle for words, only words.

From the journal of Josette Delacore - 1787

May Day

2009-05-01T14:46:00.003-04:00

Spring is finally here and for this I am grateful. It has been a long, cold winter here in the Northeast, and the promise of Spring made it's arrival all the more sweet. The temperature rises, humidity tickles my skin. Last weekend it was in the 90's here. I anticipate long, warm nights with the windows open while frogs croak and crickets chirp in their summer chorus. Trees burst with color, the grass is vibrant and I savor every moment of warmth.

As I write, things heat up between men and women, mortals and vampires. It's like the warm weather has ignited their libidos as well. Roaming through the pages is a mortal man, sexy, silent and very much alone. A man of few words, hot kisses and a silk touch. His dark eyes see all the way through her soul and this renders his lover powerless. Submission is a powerful thing, a trust between two people; mortal, vampire, it does not matter.

He has eyes that admire as well as devour; eyes full of lust yet hold many secrets. He is a force to be reckoned with, a power that is both light and dark,ebbing and flowing as he moves through the night searching for her.

For Thought

2009-04-23T14:13:00.002-04:00

Time is the blanket we wrap tightly around ourselves to keep us here.

Breakthrough

2009-04-20T10:25:00.004-04:00

There's simply no other word for it. As I was writing yesterday, working on Part II of my second novel, which shall remain nameless, it happened. As I generally do, I write with a skeletal outline in mind. It's in my head but rarely works out exactly as planned which can be frustrating, however, yesterday I had a breakthrough. Two characters were talking. Since they are lovers who have known each other for a very long time they both believe they still "know" each other, taking into account, but never believing how their individual life experiences have changed them.

So, they are talking... fighting actually, and words just flow, leading to discoveries and voila! A piece of the puzzle is there...like it just dropped from the sky and explains so much about who this character is. Okay, it's Christian Du Maure, my intense, solitary, mesmerizing vampire who is being taken on the ride of his life. To his credit, he has not flipped out....yet.

It's truly magic when this happens for me and them. When my characters take over and basically tell me how things will go I realize how out of my control it writing can be and I can only thank my muse for not tapping on my shoulder, but taking keyboard in hand and just banging things out.

I can't seem to really express my self but I know it feels right. Enough said.

Through the Flames

2009-04-06T08:34:00.002-04:00

Through the flames you and Michel come to say goodbye. I know how dangerous fire is to you both, but here you are; a testament to the undying love between the three of us. Never spoken or challenged, but ever present between us. Michel simply stroked my cheek and said goodbye. How could you not see the tenderness Christian? Perhaps you have known all along but could never say it. Perhaps that is not what is important now.

I begged you both to take me with you on your journey; to make me one of you but you both refused for such different reasons, but still, the answer was no.

Your dark eyes looked through me as if you were emblazing me in your memory for all time, for that is what you have; all time. I know my life will end soon and despite my rage, I still love and trust you. That is why I gave you my daughter Christian. You will make sure she lives and you will watch over her from afar, like the guardian angel that you are.

You hold me close and I feel like a child, safe in your arms. You thank me for loving you, but you have it all wrong. It is I who will never forget your passion, your soft voice that only spoke the truth and your undying loyalty and love for me. I will take you with me to my grave and hopefully we will meet again in another time and place.

I know you find the idea rubbish. I guess that is easy for you to say since you already possess immortality, but I believe we will meet again and I will know from the moment I look into your soulful eyes that it is you my love, just as I gaze at you now, through the flames.

Josette

In my silence

2009-03-24T08:17:00.003-04:00

The silence of the hour comforts me and draws me in as the darkness envelopes me in its death-like embrace, just as it has done every dawn for centuries now. As I succumb, my thoughts turn to you as they so often do. Where are you now? What realm holds you captive and away from me? Can you see me, Jo? Can you forgive my youth, my arrogance and my self-righteousness that cost me you? I was so young and full of anger. Angry at my plight and our circumstances.

I let you go then. I thought that interfering in the mortal world was beneath me, not my role to play in the world I had left behind; but I should have Josette. I should have taken you with me that night. As Paris burned all around us, and my heart ached for you, instead I said goodbye and never looked back; or so I thought.

But time is....how do I explain it... Time is forever, constant, ceaseless in its flow like a stream rolling from place to place, never lingering too long as it picks us up and carries us along, as if we were leaves floating on the waters' surface. Time is both then and now. I find myself here now, in 21st century Manhattan still pondering you and us. Michel is still with me, my dearest friend. Does he dream of you as I do? Is his soul torn in two as mine has been over loving and losing you? I know how much he loved you Jo. As much as Michel can love anyone.

Am I angry? jealous? Am I a fool for loving you yet not caring who else you might have taken to your bed? To this day I am not sure I ever allowed myself to acknowledge your affair with my best friend. I loved you both so much and feared losing either of you. All I know is that to this day you haunt me still.

It's strange, but I feel you with me, in me. Imagine that, a vampire waxing on matters that I have no interest in, nor understanding of, yet my love for you is the force that has carried me through time to the present day. I always thought it was blood that I craved, but it has always been you Jo. You and our love has sustained me. Your eternal power and your ability to captivate me is my proof that love remains. It suspends time.

I feel you in the darkness, holding me close as I fall into oblivion once again.

Christian

Spring Ahead

2009-03-14T14:08:00.004-04:00

As the wonderful season of Spring approaches, I am reminded to keep pushing forward with my second novel. On the few days when the muse is away, I write regardless. Right now, Christian has discovered a journal from the past that belonged to someone he still loves dearly. He is also about to discover much more than he ever wanted to know about her as he relives the eighteenth century again.

The Timelessness of Love

2009-02-25T20:53:00.002-05:00

"True love doesn't have a happy ending because true love doesn't end."

One of the themes running through Immortal Obsession is the notion that true love never dies. It lives and breathes through each passing century in the heart of the vampire, Christian Du Maure. Though he now lives in present day Manhatthan, he still covets the memories of his affair in eighteenth century France with his mortal lover Josette Delacore. There is a connection between them, a bond that has never been severed despite the centuries between them.

It is a powerful force that sustains Christian and gives him hope in this modern world. His feelings of love and lust for Josette are as vivid as the day he met her on a Spring night in 1787 on the Pont-Neuf in Paris. She was the one; his beloved and his immortal obsession whose portrait hangs in his Upper East Side town house, loaded with antiques and treasures from a time long gone. His feelings for her are ageless and timeless, and despite her death she still lives in his heart and soul.

True love is a powerful force that cannot be denied or ignored. It is a gift, a sacred blessing that knows no limits. Through time, death and rebirth, it lives, waiting to connect with the object of its desire; the other half of the whole, the other piece of the puzzle that once is in place, gives one a sense of serenity, peace and calm that is ineffable.

Where does the time go?

2009-02-15T12:55:00.002-05:00

My goodness. Tomorrow is the 16th of February - President's Day in the good old USA. Where did this month go? I know it is already a short one but I am amazed that today is mid-month. Half of February is over. Actually, I can't wait for Spring; birds chirping, open windows, longer days and feeling less encumbered by boots, sweaters and coats. Ah, Spring.... can't wait.

I am moving ahead with my second novel while trying to find literary representation for my first one, Immortal Obsession. I refuse to focus on the state of the economy or the fact that the publishing world has been impacted as well. I believe that someone out there will connect with my characters and my story and want to present it to the world. So, I remain positive as I write, edit and write some more.

Pleased to meet you

2009-02-03T10:38:00.004-05:00

I am a phantom who moves from place to place: Paris, London, the American West. We presently live in New York. Who is the ‘we’ you ask? Michel Baptiste and I. My dearest friend since childhood. The man I followed into darkness in the year of our Lord 1757. I was twenty years old. What did I know of consequences? I simply feared losing my best friend. Neither of us could comprehend the repercussions of our choice. All we knew was the beautiful and sensual Gabrielle, our lover and our maker. She was the guide who led us on a journey of lust and blood as we wove our way into the fabric of French society.

How can I impress upon you what it i’ like to be a man and monster, seducer and slayer? The beautiful Gabrielle ruled over the Parisian vampires with Gaétan, a much older vampire. What they could not control with their beauty, they destroyed. All succumbed to their demands of loyalty and subservience, or died. I have never been good at subservience nor indiscriminant murder. I had Michel and I was happy to co-exist with my friend. I was also a painter. I immersed myself in the world of canvas and color.

Nevertheless, things always change. Her name was Josette and it was the summer of 1787. She was a young mortal, married to a minor aristocrat name Luc Delacore and the mistress of Gaétan. We had all heard the rumors of her exotic beauty but nothing prepared me for our introduction.

Michel and I met them one night, strolling arm in arm on the Pont- Neuf. As I gazed into her emerald eyes I realized how lost and lonely I had become. I was barely able to say much more than hello. All the rumors were true and as the ground shifted and time stopped I fell in love with her. Not long after, both of us forsook our vampire lovers for one another. Gaétan grew to hate me even more and Gabrielle felt I had abandoned her for a mortal; and even then Michel was my guardian, forever watching out for others who grew more jealous of me.

The war of the mortals affected even the undead, dividing us and straining the tenuous bloody bonds that held us together. I had always hated politics and avoided war just as Michel and I ignored the feuding of our own kind, but when the revolution was upon us, life as I knew it was over.

Josette had a daughter, Solange. She was a beautiful little girl with dark hair and green eyes. Fearing their arrest she asked me to take the child and give her to a family that could provide for her. Reluctantly I honored her request. I knew of many French families fleeing to England. I would have no difficulty finding one to take the child.

Many nights I debated whether or not to turn Josette, yet to become immortal was something I swore I would never bestow upon another person. Great power is great responsibility and I feared both. To this day I cannot understand the logic that kept me from turning her and being happy. For she is the love of my life and I still feel responsible for her death.

I assured her Solange would be safe but I had no idea what was to come for any of us. Life is never what it seems and despite being vampires, Michel and I became victims of fate and time, just like you with your plans and dreams, hopes and wishes. I had no idea where my commitment to Solange would take us, but I invite you to come join us on our journey.

Christian Du Mauré

Time

2009-01-26T08:23:00.003-05:00

Anyone who reads my blog knows that I am hung up on time. It's the last week in January already. I don't know where the time has gone, but it goes. Minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years. And so it all goes, blending into something we call our life, our past. Like a film strip of all that is and was in our history. Time seems to pass faster these days and there seems less of it to go around. Is this also an illusion? Is the world spinning faster, or are we just so bombarded with stimuli that we must truly struggle to find a moment let alone stay in one?

Time stops for me when I meditate, or truly listen to music. Meditation is a practice I do daily. I have noticed significant changes in myself. A marked difference in my perceptions, actions and sense of time. Sounds and colors are in sharper focus. Things seem clearer. I take more time to do the things that matter the most. I listen harder and say less. When I worry about wasting time, it flies by. When I try to stay in the moment, I seem to have an endless supply of it. I tend to be forever measuring my moments, multi-tasking, etc. in order to get the most out of my days. Meditation is changing this mind-set for me.

A friend recently suggested that "you need to play more and take a few hours to just be; do nothing." Perish the thought! How can one "waste" a day doing nothing? And what exactly does it mean to do "nothing?" Perhaps she means to slow down, to relax and enjoy everything more. I am learning.

It's no surprise that I am fascinated with vampires. No need to rush through anything when you have forever. Every day is a gateway to an eternal existence. Would I get bored having eternity to read, write and meditate? No beach time for me but for someone so obsessed with time this idea seems appealing. The endless day to day (or night to night actually) would take on a new meaning and imagine not needing clocks or a watch.

Wow, lots to think about as I check the time on my computer. Got to run.....

A Mark in Time

2009-01-23T08:40:00.009-05:00

I am just beginning Part Two of my current work in progress which is the second book in my trilogy. My goal is to have the entire novel finished in draft by this Spring as I take notes, redraft my chapter outline, etc.

The process for writing this novel is very different than my first novel, Immortal Obsession. I wrote and rewrote it. Then I found an editor who was kind enough to point out both the positives and negatives of it, which led to months of rewrites. It became a much better novel, thanks to him.

This novel, tentatively titled Blood Kiss, is taking form in a very different manner. There is more research to be done on 18th century Paris prior to moving ahead. I am drawn to alchemy too. A medieval form of chemistry in which the primary goal was the discovery of how to turn metal into gold. Being a lover of symbolism, I am fascinated by their meanings. Look at Nordic Runes.

There is also the element of the metaphysical involved here, as I ponder the nature of existence and truth and knowledge and how all of these things impact on my vampires; esoteric beings that are struggling in their world. I am the first to admit that there is nothing traditional about my vampires. Yes, they sleep at night, and yes, they drink blood, but they are so much more.

The traditional definition of a vampire is "a reanimated creature that wakes at dusk to drink the blood of the living." There is no room in this definition for personalities, special gifts, or the very human needs and desires that compel and control all of us.

You know, the stuff that makes us human.

Fierce Pride

2009-01-20T16:11:00.004-05:00

I can only speak for myself here, but I am so proud to be an American at this moment in history. I cried tears of joy watching the inauguration of Barrack Hussein Obama this morning. Despite the cold there were thousands of happy smiling faces, cheering and waving.

I am so excited for this new administration. I wish them all the best.

God Bless us all, everyone.

The Rise of the Lycans

2009-01-15T14:42:00.005-05:00

I don't know about you but I have this "thing" about werewolves. Odd you might say for someone with a life long interest in anything vampire. Well...maybe, but the way I see it werewolves are misunderstood creatures. Three excellent novels about werewolves are: Bitten by Kelley Armstrong, The Passion by Donna Boyd and Night of the Werewolf by Harry Shannon. These novels showcase the best and worse of our fuzzy friends.

There is something so primal and physical about them. With a degree in Anthropology, I am continually looking at culture and subcultures as well. I am fascinated with the distinction made between vampires and werewolves. I even think I blogged about it in the past. I used the movies Underworld and Underworld Evolution to make my case. In these two movies you see the disparate natures of these two species who become enemies when one tries to enslave the other.

Vampires are generally depicted as handsome or beautiful, rich and well-dressed; educated, insightful and incredibly erotic and seductive. One can only imagine their house or apartment, richly decorated in excellent taste. Werewolves on the other hand seem messy, frumpy and probably smell funny! They have a hard time controlling their animal nature and more often than not, it gets them in trouble.

I am not expressing my opinions here, merely observations about the way in which the media has portrayed each of these supernatural beings. One of the most memorable characters is Jeremy Danvers from the novel Bitten. He is a handsome, insightful, educated, artistic werewolf. He is soft spoken, introspective and extremely powerful. He rules from his beautiful home in the country with a velvet voice and an iron will. I love him. He has stayed with me for years now and like my favorite vampire: Christian Du Maure, he has tried to rise above his basic nature. Sometimes he succeeds and other times it is much harder. Especially when emotions get in the way.

How human is that?

I'm Back

2009-01-14T12:09:00.003-05:00

It's a new year and though I did go down to Florida for the Christmas holiday, I feel as though I have been gone longer than 10 days. It's a new year and I have some news......soon some lovely portraits will grace this page. Portraits of my vampires: Christian, Michel, Gabrielle and Gaetan...as well as portraits of Solange, Josette and Sabin. Who are these people you ask? They are the living, breathing mortals and vampires who inhabit the pages of my novel Immortal Obsession.

These portraits were done by a wonderful graphic artist. I can't share much about her now, but I think the proof is in her work. I hope you agree. Presently, I am working on the second novel in this trilogy. I cannot reveal the title of this work, nor the title of the trilogy, but I am truly enjoying it. My tale seems to have a mind of its own and I feel like I am merely the recorder of the story. It's magical at times.

As those of you who stop by regularly know, I am waiting to hear from various agents regarding Immortal Obsession. I keep my fingers crossed that one of them will have the good instinct to take a chance on me. I am anxious to get my books out there to you all.

Too Many Secrets

2008-12-20T21:52:00.002-05:00

As Josette Delacore emerges I realize that she is a woman with many secrets. Her life circumstances caused her to live a life of lies and secrecy because of her own personal power and because she chooses to protect those she loves. She is intensely loyal and never forgets the two vampires who loved her. When they need her help centuries later, she materializes and the results are well..... you'll just have to read the rest.

She is not only psychic but her gifts go far beyond beauty, intelligence and poise; though they serve her well for centuries. Josette has left a lasting impression on the men in her life and in a sense, she has gained immortality through them. I am really enjoying discovering her. I hope you do as well.

Josette

2008-11-24T10:21:00.005-05:00

Josette Delacore is the centerpiece in my series of vampire novels set in eighteenth century France and modern day Manhattan. She was very young when her path crossed with not one, not two, but three vampires - all of whom loved her and whom she loved for very different reasons. She is dark-haired, petite, adventurous, kind, smart and way ahead of her time. As I write her profile, who emerges is someone with tremendous power, a power that comes from self-knowledge and a passion for all things in life - food and drink, knowledge and learning, music and art, sex and love.

She does the unthinkable and learns much more than she bargained for in her short life. In my first novel she is just a memory for Christian. In my second novel....let's just say her presence is more acute. She is beautiful, wise, cultured and extremely powerful; like an enchantress, she captivates one too many vampires and like all of us, karma is sometimes a hard thing to face.

Bobby

2008-11-06T18:05:00.005-05:00

One of my brothers called me this morning to let me know someone from my past died on Halloween. This is someone I met just as I began high school at the age of fourteen. He had just transferred from another middle school as a sophomore. We were both new students in what felt at that moment like a huge high school. (My high school had twenty five hundred students.) Anyway, our lockers were close to one another and on one of the first days of school he asked me for directions. I had no idea where anything was myself. I was just as new! But we talked briefly and I happened to notice how blue his eyes were, how his long blonde hair hung past his shoulders. He was tall and tan wearing overalls and a tee shirt. Yes, I am going back to the early seventies here!

My mother loved him, in fact, he took a photograph of her which sits in my dining room to this day. He was artistic yet wreckless. We dated briefly but after a short while I broke things off. He was way too fast for me. Several years later we tried again but too much had changed. Our lives had gone in very different directions and after a while we lost touch. Sometimes my mom would run into him and he would always ask about me but too much water had passed under our bridge and there are some wounds that time cannot heal.

He is the second "boyfriend" of mine that has passed away in four months at such a young age. Suddenly, time is divided into decades and death has a funny way of bringing someone back to the present. Back in memories and photographs. God bless him. I know he is now in a better place, no longer suffering.

Back at Square One

2008-11-06T08:32:00.004-05:00

Recently I blogged about an agent who was interested in a partial (50 pages) read of Immortal Obsession. While I was excited about it I am also a realist. While I consider Immortal Obsession a paranormal romance, it is erotic and dark. I tend to like to read novels that portray the struggles of characters, whether they are humans or vampires. Too much romance and fluff negates the respect and the fear we should have for this supernatural being. The last thing I want to do as a writer is contribute to the homogenization of this archetype.

So, I am back at square one, having queried more agents in the hopes that someone will want to read more than just my query letter. Perhaps an agent will want to take a chance on me and my world of beautiful seductive vampires with their power struggles, love triangles, lust and betrayals. It is also a world full of morality and hope, not unlike ours.

My muse leans over my shoulder and whispers "just write" and so I do and book two in my vampire series unfolds.

There is hope for our nation

2008-11-05T08:14:00.000-05:00

This was my journal entry for yesterday, Election Day 2008:

Election Day is finally here. It seems to be a quiet day as our nation hopefully is poised and ready for change. A nation that has not lost sight of its history, goals and beliefs. I have not been able to think about much else today as I wait for the evening news and the Election coverage to begin at 5pm EST. I pray that everyone who can vote will come out today to participate in this historic election.

I get chills when I think about the last eight years and how our country has fallen from grace. I believe Barrack Obama can bring respect and dignity back to the office of President. He is presidential, reminding me of John F. Kennedy. He is smart, articulate, poised, young and ready to do the work our country needs in order to unite again, to grow and to have a positive presence on the world stage. Oh, and he is African American.

This is the most exciting election I can remember and I cannot bring myself to project what will happen to our nation if the Republicans stay in office. Obama gives me hope; hope for our nation, hope for the future and hope that the American people will work together to make our nation great again. I am once again excited about politics and I believe we can rewrite history and alter the course of our destiny as a nation.

Buying Time

2008-10-30T08:35:00.004-04:00

I recently reconnected with an old girlfriend, someone I had met in seventh grade at the school bus stop. As usual with friends much changes as you grow older and through no fault of our own we drifted apart. Last summer, a mutual friend passed away and through his death we reconnected. I guess for both of us the message was that time passes way too quickly and is available only in finite quantities. He had just turned 50, we are both 51 so it really hit home. He was someone I had known since I was 14 years old so we went back a long way.

My girlfriend mentioned retiring at the end of 2010. She is a teacher and like many teachers, she loves what she does but wants to retire while she still can enjoy her life. I wholeheartedly agreed with her. You work your whole life and then you grow older and more tired and suddenly, you look around and ask yourself - where did the time go? Suddenly, your life is not about making money and buying "stuff". Its about time; and friends, money cannot buy anyone of us any more of it. We are here for a finite period of time. We cannot buy another ten minutes or ten years. The clock ticks and it slips away.

As I grow older, immortality seems so very appealing to me. So exotic and unattainable is this concept of cheating time at it's own game. Yes, after we die we live on through others, but not in this body. It turns to dust and we return home. I would not mind immortality at this age. Think of all the experience and knowledge you have gained! Forget turning into a vampire at twenty-five, though I guess I would much rather look twenty five than fifty but hey, you can't have everything!

Stuff is great but as Billy S. says "Time is of the essence." He knows whereof he speaks because one day we are twenty-one and we blink and we are fifty-one. Believe me, it creeps up way too quickly. I have read that "overnight" success takes about twenty years. I figure that if I become an overnight success, that makes me about seventy-one.

Much to think about, this immortality. What's a little blood drinking in exchange for living forever with super human strength and heightened senses. Plus I'd be able to read the fine print on labels. Not too much to ask for now, is it?

Spirit vs. the Material

2008-10-21T06:49:00.005-04:00

I believe it was the group 'The Police" who wrote about us being spirits in the material world.

In terms of Immortal Obsession, Christian is a vampire who continually wrestles with his essence as a vampire. A part of his world includes those around him. The other Parisian vampires, his best friend Michel and his mortal lover Josette. He still loves her in the present day, which got me thinking...

Does love transcend time and space? Can you love someone forever? Do our feelings travel through time with us, or do we forget lifetime to lifetime? Or maybe it is both. Then there is grief, anguish, and hate? Can these emotions carry forth in us from lifetime to lifetime? How does this impact on our present existence and the decisions we make for ourselves.

I frame this question in terms of vampires; the once human beings who have been resurrected into something immortal. What about us? Are we are spiritual beings who exist in physical form on this plane. Do we assume a physical body when we come down to earth and then we have to manage it, as well as the emotional realm that accompanies the physical world?

Do we forget that the physical is just that? Something organic and finite, perishable and fragile, temporal and ultimately gone. Is our true essence truly spirit that has travelled through time on a journey through numerous physical incarnations? What makes up the true "us" that we carry from life to life? I think about these questions as I write about vampires but also in terms of my own existence here on earth.

I observe that vampires travel through time but they must grow and adapt to the changing physical environment around them. We must also grow and change from lifetime to lifetime.

Do we recognize those we have loved from our past in the present? Despite changes in our physical appearance can we look into some one's eyes and recognize a kindred spirit, an enemy from the past, a former lover? I believe it is possible and in those moments we touch the divine, a power greater than ourselves; the place we all come from and return to when our work here is finished.

Vampires experience death only once and then they move forward through time. We are one being who travels forward through numerous lifetimes. We forget, return, live, learn and then leave again. Christian is still fraught with such mixed emotions about his past decisions, decisions he cannot change, people who are lost to him forever. All he has to hold onto is a love that both sustains him and pains him now.

Titles

2008-10-17T16:26:00.005-04:00

I am toying with names for my trilogy of novels. So much is conveyed in words and it must be something that resonates with my style of writing, my beloved vampires and the nature of the series. I went to my trusty Thesaurus and have found several words that resonate with me: Beguile,enchant,bloodlust, bloodkiss, bloodline, surrender, sate, rapture, hunger. Somewhere in all these words is a title for me.

So I write down words, then combinations of words that fit together and I let them sit and I know something will jump out at me or roll easily off my tongue. It will just feel right. Those who have read any of Immortal Obsession know it is not a happy, light romance, but who said romance has to be light or happy to be inviting or to make the blood boil? Especially when vampires are involved. There should be some of the "pit in the stomach" in reaction to a vampire, especially if he is beautiful with a voice that could melt butter on your skin. When you look into his eyes you sense he can see right down to your soul and while you know he wishes to steal it from you, you would give it willingly.

That is his power. It is chilling, seductive and forces the surrender of one will to another with no knowledge of the outcome. It's a dark gamble.

October 7th, 6:30pm

2008-10-07T19:07:00.002-04:00

Geese honk outside my window as they fly past. The whirl of my portable heater breaks the silence as I write this post. The porch lights are already on and soon mums will replace my summer flowers. I want to curl up with a good book or a good movie, make soup from scratch, or a good meat sauce. It's time to order fire wood again, bring the fireplace tools up from the basement, check my supply of candles.

As I look out back, I realize that we have to bring in the deck furniture, empty the flower pots and begin to rake the leaves, again and again. I usually buy one bale of hay to put under the pine tree in my front yard and lots of mums for the front steps. I stock up on birdseed, salt and sand for the steps. I need to get a winter servicing for my car as well.

I have had a fall wreath on the front door for weeks now and I've put a simple candle and leaf arrangement on my dining room table as well. Fall is my favorite season, though you would never know that since I spend so much time at the beach during the summer. I love Fall. Not only do I find it beautiful but many of the most significant events in my life have taken place this time of year. I always take a deep breath once October ushers in and I don't let it out until December 1st.

The landscape changes, my wardrobe changes and I relish all this beauty before old man winter comes hobbling along and I shutter. Every winter I hear myself say how much I hate it and so I try not to focus on the external, but work on the internal- this goes for the world outside my window as well as my internal one. I read more book, watch more movies and write more while sitting in front of my fireplace; the mantle filled with candles. I am forced to slow down, to stop and listen to myself. I rest and recharge my battery for another year.

On second thought, maybe old man winter isn't so bad after all.

Trailer for Let the Right One In

2008-10-06T11:03:00.002-04:00

The movie opens October 24th. I read this book over the summer and I could not put it down. The author captures the essence of a creature that exists in our world but not of it. A must see!

Let The Right One In

That Double-edged Sword or the Agent Update

2008-10-04T18:36:00.005-04:00

I have been asked when will Immortal Obsession be available to the public. Good question. I have an agent who is reading a partial of my manuscript and if she likes it I assume she will ask for more. If she doesn't, I am back at square one again. I still am waiting to hear from several other agents I queried. Hopefully they will oblige me by responding sooner than later. The waiting is a double-edge sword. In waiting/anticipating, all things are possible and who knows if I will get a another bite. I don't believe in putting all my eggs in one basket. Too risky.

A dear friend of mine who has worked in publishing for a very long time says that this is the most exciting time to be a musician or a writer. We have many more options for getting our work out there to the public and more control over it. Sounds good to me as I check the mailbox each day. I have to stay positive and focus on what I love to do - write. So I am working on my second novel in this series. This one takes place in present day California and New York. Though the story line seems clear at the moment, I am sure it will go through a metamorphosis as the characters speak to me.

Writing is hard work. Don't let anyone ever tell you differently. Those who are successful and achieve fame and monetary success deserve every penny they earn. Writing has kept me up at night. I have agonized over dialogue, love scenes, and killing characters off. I have tried to imagine the violence that some of them have perpetrated and witnessed themselves. Sometimes, it is hard to walk in their shoes.

When the muse taps me on the shoulder, I heed the call, as I am at this very moment. There is nothing more rewarding or more revealing than bearing ones' soul on the printed page. It's that double-edged sword again, folks.

True Blood

2008-09-28T11:54:00.004-04:00

I am really enjoying the new series on HBO titled TruBlood. If you haven't watched it and you love anything vampire, please do so. It must be so exciting for Charlaine Harris to see her characters become living breathing people on the silver screen! I find all of her characters interesting and even the vampires cannot help betray their humanness at times. It gives them more dimension and their own distinct personalities. Things get really interesting when Sookie winds up in the vamp bar Fangtasia and meets up with Eric Northman. He is another ancient vampire who wrestles with his emotions of greed, jealousy and envy, just like the rest of us.

Bill is living in his families ancestral home which happens to be across the cemetary from Sookie Stackhouses's home. He either had avoided the vampire nests or has left one to live among mortals. He explains to Sookie how vampires living in nests loose their humanity and become laws unto themselves which makes them more dangerous. One could say that about humans as well. When there are no checks and balances within our government or our financial institutions we forget the others outside of ourselves. We believe we are untouchable and therefore capable of anything.

Dangerous for humans as well as vampires.

The House That Ruth Built

2008-09-22T08:36:00.001-04:00

I grew up with baseball. Along with my father I have four brothers. There was no contest in my house when it came to who got to watch what on TV. I always lost. Now a days there is a TV in every room but when I was a kid, we had one. Yes, just one TV! Last night I had the honor (on TV of course) of watching the Yankees play their last home game. I have only actually been to Yankee Stadium twice in my life. It felt like being in a museum to me. All that history packed into one place. Hallowed ground it is called. Yes, I find Yankee Stadium beautiful. It's all that history and memories that made it such a special place.

My husband grew up in the Bronx and he has memories that stretch back more than fifty years. His favorite player was Mickey Mantle. The day he died my husband cried as if he had lost a family member, or a dear friend. In a way he had. He had lost a piece of his personal history. Something that cannot be replaced but lives in our minds and hearts long after the person or place is gone. That is the beauty of memory. We always carry it with us.

Yesterday was also the last day of summer. My husband and I went to Spring Lake one last time. The beach was crowded with plenty of sunbathers and surfers. I said to myself, though this is probably my last day here this year, God willing I will return next summer. There is a comfort in that thinking. Next April, baseball fans will enter "the new Yankee Stadium" to watch their beloved team. Comparisons are only natural. Perhaps Derek Jeter said it best last night. He reminded us that we will make new memories to accompany the old. That's the secret I think. Sandwich the present between the glorious past and a promising future.

You can't go wrong.

Immortality

2008-09-17T07:39:00.006-04:00

"The first condition of immortality is death."

Stanislaw J. Lee

I love this quote. A heady reminder that to achieve eternity one must lose their most precious possession; their life. Is it a fair trade? Is it one I would make? All novelists writing about vampires much address the issue of immortality with their vampires: is it a gift or a curse? In the last episode of TruBlood, Bill Compton and Sookie Stackhouse are walking past the cemetery where his wife and children are buried. How strange and disconnecting that must be?

I once asked my husband Marvin what if you could live forever? We were walking through the historic district of my hometown one summer night and the topic naturally turned to vampires. His response was so touching. He said that he would have a hard time watching his two children grow older than him and then die. Not being a parent I had never thought about it. In the natural order of things, most children do outlive their parents. To watch them age, suffer and then die much be surreal indeed and lend such a sense of disconnect to your life.

For a vampire, it must be so strange and sad to watch your mortal family do the same. In Immortal Obsession, one of the vampires is faced with his offspring begging him for eternal life when she is faced with her own death. When she is turned by another vampire, she forever carries a grudge against her father for refusing to give her such a great gift. This impacts his life in present day New York. The consequences of our actions and our decisions.

What would you do if given the chance at immortality? Be honest.

9/11

2008-09-11T09:46:00.002-04:00

I see today as a day of hope as well as of mourning. Though seven years has passed I remember exactly where I was and what I was doing when I heard that a plane had "hit" the World Trade Center. Since it was a cool, crisp September day with not a cloud in the sky I thought it odd but not improbable. Then I got the word that another plane had hit and suddenly my country was under attack and those airplanes were carrying average people on their way to a business trip or to visit loved ones.

I worked at that time in a small private school nestled amidst the rolling hills of Central New Jersey. It was idyllic yet isolated. We had the internet and a television to keep us connected to the world. Staff who had family members who worked in Manhattan left in shock, while parents came to pick up their children. It was a time to stay close to loved ones. Fortunately, I worked with my husband at the time. I remember driving home in silence, happy to be heading home yet not wanting to turn on the television for fear what I would see.

When we had first heard the news someone asked my husband "what does this mean?" His reply was poignant and prophetic. He said quietly "it means that life as we know it is over." As the morning wore on we heard about a plane heading to Washington DC and then another plane hitting the Pentagon. It was too much to absorb in those moments. I remember calling everyone I knew just to make sure they were home safely. My nieces husband was out of town at the time but the building he worked in was right next door to the WTC. I began hearing stories, talking to those who witnessed much and lived to talk about it.

I remember regular television being preempted which I found to be a blessing. My neighbors all hung flags outside and we put bunches of small flags on our lawn. One by one they disappeared and I felt glad I had more than enough to spare. I wore a small American Flag pin in my jacket lapel every day. Traveling over the George Washington Bridge I saw smoking rising in the darkness as the sight still burned days later. It was all anyone could talk about and I remember watching people's faces as we all tried to go about our daily routine. They had vague smiles and vacant eyes.

Yet, we were suddenly a nation united; not black or white, gay or straight, Democratic or Republican, pro-life or pro-choice. We had no differences. We were one people, one heart that had been broken into a zillion smaller pieces. We were Americans and we bonded in our grief and loss. What I take away from that moment is the feeling of being united by an unspeakable tragedy. Joy brings us together, but tragedy forges unbreakable bonds.

I did spend the following weekend hiking in the wood. My husband and I took comfort and refuge there, away from the media and the pain of what we had lost. Through my tears I pray for those that died unspeakble deaths, for the survivors, for our nation and for faith in mankind. I pray that we continue to learn and grow from such unspeakable events.

It is still a quiet day as people go about their business; a sad day, but we have not forgotten.

Letters

2008-09-10T12:05:00.004-04:00

Dear Amanda,

Despite the time we spent together, I feel as though I know little of you and you know even less about who I really am. I am referring to the man I was centuries ago, before I became a vampire in 1757.
I was born into the minor aristocracy in a place called Meudon, France in the outskirts of Paris. It was rural and I must admit I loved the country life; riding horses, walking with my dogs, fishing, wandering in the woods and feeling the sun on my face. Michel was my neighbor and best friend since childhood. I was in love with his sister and hoped to marry her one day. All I ever wanted was to be a father and live on the land that gave birth to me.
I am passionate by nature and I cannot live without art, music, literature and solitude. I am a deeply spiritual man though not a religious one. I am private yet honest and I hate hypocrisy. What do I miss about being mortal you ask me? I miss French food, a good bottle of wine, silence, the innocence of mortals, daylight. I sometimes crave my mother's rabbit stew, though I cannot remember her face.
I have fought hard to be more than a bloodsucking monster with no sense of propriety. I hate this age - it lacks romance and depth. You have a kind heart and a keen mind. You are cultured, with a sense of humor and morality, and a passionate, womanly soul. You would be a great mistress yet a miserable wife. Tis' a pity we had not met under other circumstances. Please remember, all men are not gentle and all vampires are not monsters. It is sometimes difficult to discern the difference, yet you have never judged me, despite the warnings. For that Amanda, I will be forever grateful.

Until we meet again,
Christian

Love and Loss

2008-09-08T07:38:00.002-04:00

Suppose you discovered that the love of your life lived just beyond your reach and your touch? What price would you pay to look into her eyes, to hold her in your arms again and hear her sweet voice?
What happens to your heart when you live with a loss not measured in years but in centuries?
What do you do with a hunger for another that transcends space and time?
What would you sacrifice to be together again?
Suppose it was all possible?

The Dog Days of Summer

2008-09-05T14:23:00.003-04:00

It's hot here in the Northeast! I have been sequestered in my air conditioned room writing away. Blood Kiss is taking shape. I am just on my third chapter. Christian is faced with new challenges. Something he thought was long gone is about to resurface. This will be his toughest moment.

He has suffered terrible losses all of his life, why being a vampire would he be immune to pain and misery?

Now that's a Novel!

2008-09-02T07:43:00.003-04:00

I just finised Let Me In by the Swedish author John Ajvide Lindqvist and let me tell you, it was excellent. A page turner and a true piece of literary fiction. I found myself caring about all of the characters, even Eli the vampire. Despite it being a dark and cold novel I would recommend it to anyone who takes their vampires seriously!

The Waiting Game

2008-08-25T08:06:00.002-04:00

No, this is not "The Dating Game" but the waiting game. I have queried several more agents in my quest for representation. Now all I can do is wait and hope that one of them will believe in my novel Immortal Obsession. I have begun my second novel in the series, presently titled Blood Kiss. Clues to who was given a blood kiss are apparent in the opening chapter; well, sort of apparent. I don't like to spell anything out too clearly and I do like to keep my vampires on their toes as well.

I am presentlly working on a page on MySpace.com as well as putting up a photo of myself here as well as on MySpace. A website is in the works as well so please keep checking in with me.

Vampire Novels

2008-08-20T08:53:00.002-04:00

I went on vacation and took the entire Southern Vampire series by Charlaine Harris. I have almost finished it and I must say I really enjoyed it. I love Sookie Stackhouse; a character so real I feel like I know her! My favorite vampire is Eric of course, having a thing for tall blondes. His very humanness is what makes him so likable, despite being a centuries old vampire. I can't wait to tune into TruBlood, the series based on her writings, which starts in September on HBO!

Another novel I picked up is Let Me In by the Swedish author John Ajvide Lindqvist. I have not started it yet but the premise seems absolutely chilling. Definitely a darker vampire tale which has been made into a movie in Sweden. I am on the lookout for this one but meanwhile, I have the novel to sink my teeth into, pardon the expression!

Blood Kiss

2008-08-03T12:24:00.004-04:00

I have begun my second novel, presently titled Blood Kiss. Michel may have more of a prominent role in this one; in fact, this story may be through his eyes as he wooes the beautiful but very much taken Josette Delacore, the married lover of his best friend, Christian. Though I allude to a love affair between Josette and Michel in Immortal Obsession, I did not explore it. Christian is still unable to come to terms with the possible reality of his best friend and his woman being lovers. I have finished the Prologue and anticipate watching their romance unfold, set against the backdrop of eighteenth century France.

When My Muse Calls

2008-07-29T09:38:00.002-04:00

I hear that voice again. The voice of my characters Christian and Michel talking to me from their world in eighteenth century France prior to the revolution that ripped their world apart, just as it had done to the mortals all around them. I write as it comes to me and edit later as to not interupt the flow of ideas.

We shall see how this shapes up into my second book in this series.

Agents

2008-07-17T14:41:00.002-04:00

I have sent out all my query letters and e-queries as well to various agents. Now I play and pray: play the waiting game and pray that someone out there will believe in my novel and want to represent me. I have been working hard and I never thought I would reach this moment. Now I am here and I hope an agent will agree that Immortal Obsession is ready for publication.

As a writer I am so in the moment when I sit in front of my computer screen that I forget that almost three years has passed since the night I began this novel. It has gone through many changes set forth first by me and then by my editor. Then a copy editor took one last look at it and really cleaned it up. It has gone through a metamorphosis as I believe I have done over the past through years. Now I stand at another precipice, waiting on a call or a letter requesting my entire manuscript. I would assume once that happens that is a very good sign. Meanwhile, life goes on. I go to work each day and try not to think too much about that moment.

The Finished Product

2008-07-14T06:59:00.002-04:00

I got my manuscript back last Monday from my copyeditor. It was a sea of red however so after spending almost a week on revisions Immortal Obsession is ready to go. I finished all my query letters and they are going out today. I am excited and Inever imagined getting to this place. Now I am here and once I send out my letters then I wait some more. It has been almost three years since I began Immortal Obsession. I am proud of my finished product. I believe it is a great story. I hope an agent will feel the same way as I do and ask to see my manuscript. I'll keep my fingers crossed.

Any Moment Now

2008-07-06T09:56:00.002-04:00

My proof reader promised to have my manuscript back to me this week. I am so excited to see her revisions I am almost pacing! I trust her judgement and though I may not agree with all her suggestions, in the end, I will have a tighter novel that reads well. Isn't that what any writer wants for their creation?

Right now, I am researching agents to query once I have Immortal Obsession in my hot little hands. I have been hesitant to query agents prior to the completion of my novel because as my editor brought to my attention, suppose one of them wants to see your ms immediately and you don't have it in hand? Now that is a problem I would love to have! I have taken his advice as well and I am waiting for my novel to be complete, revised and the best it can be before I undertake the next step.

I feel like a horse at the gait waiting for the bell!

The Proof Reader

2008-05-28T06:48:00.002-04:00

It has taken me two and a half years (since October 2005)to complete Immortal Obsession. I am proud of every moment I worked on it; every ounce of blood, sweat and love I have poured into my novel. I hope that I have created something of beauty and joy which gives my readers as much joy to read as it was for me to write.

When the dreaded suggestion of line editing was presented to me I cringed. Not that I don't think my novel needs cleaning up. It does, believe me. I just don't have the patience to do it and I consider myself a very patient person. It's tedious and I believe that a writer cannot edit their own work. We are too close to it to see beyond the glaring misspellings, etc. That is where the proof reader comes in. Like a knight on a white horse, they come to our aid!

I give them alot of credit for taking any novel and without knowing anything about it, trying to make sense of it as well as clean it up. It's a challenge but I know my vampires are safe with her. Now I am free to begin my next task.....researching agents!.

A Respite

2008-05-12T06:52:00.005-04:00

Last Thursday night I finished Immortal Obsession. I had tears of joy at finishing what I feel is a much better story. I waited for the voices inside my head to begin editing my final few chapters, but nothing came and that is when I knew I was finished. I know my editor may not agree and that is okay. That is his job but I hope he finds my tale one worth sharing with the world. I love my characters and I sense there are more adventures ahead for them. Stay tuned.....

Rewrites

2008-04-27T16:36:00.003-04:00

I am just about finished my rewrites for my novel Immortal Obsession. I had taken months of hard work to come back with a product I liked more than my original draft. It has been exciting as well. I am keeping my fingers cross to have it to my editor soon and hopefully he will like it as well.

I am still loving all my characters and I hope the readers do as well!

Just a Word

2008-03-31T06:48:00.001-04:00

For those of you who have been following my blog, I have been working on Immortal Obsession since October of 2005. Having found a wonderful editor, I am in the process of rewrites, which I hope to have completed in April. It has been an incredible process and I now feel I have the novel I was meant to write. I hope you feel the same way too. I will keep you posted as to what happens to my "little vampire story."

Heart of Darkness

2008-02-20T17:35:00.003-05:00

My villainous vampire has a heart of darkness. He is a beautiful yet tortured soul who opts for one more try at love before doing himself and everyone else around him in. His immortality has become too much to bear and that which made him happy, now disgusts him.

Nothing new you say? True, mortals and immortals alike see a safe haven in relationships. Finding redemption through love is a miraculous feeling, and most of my vampires could use a little of that in their lonely lives. What is the alternative for my bloodsuckers? Self-destruction or do they take yet another chance on love to give them a reason for existing, a chance to feel loved and not like a monster.

Love is the great transformer, no matter how long you have to live.

Those Forks in the Road

2008-02-08T07:53:00.000-05:00

I believe it was Robert Frost who wrote a famous poem about a fork in the road. When we stand at a crossroads in our writing, how does one know which way to go? I turn to my higher self and my muse for guidance. Sometimes I will write an entire chapter and then let it sit for days. If the feeling I got initially when I wrote it is still there, then I go with it. If not, I may scrap it all together.

In talking to a friend about creativity, she said creativity is messy, unorganized and random. I have to agree with her. Some of my best writing comes when I lay down a chapter then edit it days later. It's like my initial writing is the framework for the chapter and I fill in lots of details later. I hear my characters voices, see their faces and body movements. They make love, war and just like me, they are confused at times. Sometimes they make bad decisions, or misjudge, just like me. Sometimes it costs them.

Just because most of my characters happen to be vampires does not mean they are perfect. Let me tell you, having immortality, beauty and superhuman strength does not necessarily make one upstanding, righteous or moral. Having that kind of power tends to corupt, just because it can and that is human nature. We humans make decisions based on our emotions...and logic, but our emotions play such a large part in our decisions. The same is true for vampires. They agonize too and the past has reprocussions for them as well.

There is a great line in the movie The Darleeing Limited. ''The past happens but it's over isn't it? Not for us."

It is that way for both humans and vampires. The actions of the past face us at every turn as we navigate our lives in the present. For most of us, the navigation takes about 80 years. For my vampire friends, it could be hundreds of years. Plenty of time to create both good and bad karma.

The Light

2008-01-18T06:51:00.000-05:00

Not a good thing for vampires but for aspiring writers struggling through rewrites it is the most exhilarating feeling in the world. I got the green light from my editor and now I begin the process of recreating my original novel. The characters will remain the same and some of the plot as well and this is a good thing. When someone with 30 years of experience agrees that your new ideas are much better than your original ones, go with it. It is validating and so positive. I was floundering as I tried to implement his suggestions. Nothing seemed to be coming and then my juices began flowing and my muse returned and here I am. Thought I would share with whomever reads this that the darkness cannot remain indefinitely. The light will come and when the flow returns, it is nothing short of magic.

On the dark side of something

2008-01-10T07:01:00.000-05:00

Still working on my rewrites for my novel and for the moment, I feel my creative spark is gone. I light candles, hold crystals, pray, but nothing comes. Is my muse on holiday? Not sure but I do know that I need to keep writing, go with the flow, keep my faith in myself alive and kicking, because eventually the clouds will part and I will begin writing again while my muse both paces and smiles down at me. It's just the inbetween time.....

The Great American Novel

2007-11-26T14:16:00.000-05:00

What makes a story great as opposed to good?
Why do the vampires come for into the life of my main character? What draws them to her?
My editor has asked these questions of me so I ask them of my characters. It makes the difference between an okay novel and one that makes the reader keep turning the pages.

Lots to think about as I mull over what I think makes a great story. Any thoughts out there?

In a Dark Place

2007-11-13T14:56:00.000-05:00

I am mulling over my rewrites and trying to decide where my novel is heading. My editor says I have too many loose ends and little resolved at the end of my story and I tend to agree. It's just tying up all those threads in a way that appears natural and not contrived. I believe I will focus more on the vampire wars and have the love story as the back drop against the evil that is looming...waiting to slaughter anything in it's path.

Rewrites make us better writers and I am up to the task...I think.

Make Love Not War?

2007-11-02T18:17:00.000-04:00

Struggling with the main focus of my novel. Is it a love story or a story about a war between vampires with a love interest thrown in? This is my plight for the next few weeks, figuring out the main focus. Exciting yes, looking foward to rewrites, yes. Anything to make my novel the best it can be. Not an easy task but a challenge for any writer worth their salt.

The Real Deal

2007-10-30T12:21:00.000-04:00

Have you ever seen someone you thought might be a "real" vampire? If so, sent a comment my way. I believe I did once in a public restroom at a club. There was something about this woman that made me go hummmmmm....

New Direction

2007-10-24T15:52:00.000-04:00

After getting my editorial letter back I may be heading in a new direction with my novel. Everyone wants more about the eminent vampire wars, so I may give it to them, mixed in with a love story of course. Everyone loves a love story, even if it is about vampires!

I have my work cut out for me but I am excited.

Moonlight

2007-10-14T17:38:00.000-04:00

I discovered a new television show on Friday nights at 9pm titled Moonlight. It is about a detective, Mick St. John, who is a vampire living in present day LA. As is usually the case with vampires, he falls in love with a mortal woman; a newspaper reporter he rescued when she was just a child. They are attracted to one another yet he dare not get her too involved in his world. He has a conscious, morals and integrity, just like my main vampire character, Christian. He lives in eternal conflict between his nature and his memory of his human self.

The other television show I was watching (no I don't watch that much TV, but vampires intrique me in case you haven't guessed), is Blood Ties. I do not like Vicky, the main character. I find her too hard, too one dimensional. I do like Mike and Henry. So, Friday night is vampire night in my house and I have to ask myself why suddenly all these television shows on "fantasy topics?" Is it the state of our world? Our fear of the unknown? I am not sure but it is a genre who's time has come - finally.

The editor

2007-09-27T16:08:00.000-04:00

I am embarking on a new voyage. I have an editor for my novel! I am thrilled to have a professional reading my manuscript. I don't know how much re-writing I will have to do but I am so excited. Writing is one of the things that I live for, and to rewrite it will only make it a better novel and make me grow as a writer, and isn't that what it is all about? Writing is one step in the publishing process. I have had friends who also write read my novel but there is something about a professional assessing your work. Some writers may be intimidated by it but I welcome it. I see it as bringing me one step closer to publication!

Clubbing It

2007-09-14T19:28:00.000-04:00

Much of my novel takes place in an imaginary vampire club in the East Village of Manhattan called the Gray Wolf. I describe it in my book, however, it is a product of my imagination. Have any of you visited a "real" vampire club? If so, would you send me your impressions. Hey, even if you haven't, what do you imagine a vampire club to look and feel like? What would the music sound like and would you be tempted to enter one?

The Death of a character

2007-09-08T21:59:00.000-04:00

I needed to make my ending more dramatic and resolve alot of loose ends. Books really do sell on their endings so I needed mine to be more believable. I killed off a character whom I loved. It broke my heart but I did it. I feel like I betrayed one of the main characters by ending the life of one of his closest friends. I am in the midst of rewrites so perhaps I will decide against it and come up with another ending but as it stands right now, he is dead as a doornail.

I have not posted in some time spending much of my free time finishing my novel and working on rewrited before it goes to my editor. A bit intimidating but necessary to make my novel the best it can be.

Christian - then and now

2007-07-27T14:02:00.000-04:00

Tall and lithe with flowing blonde hair to his waist, Christian is a loner. He is pensive, smart, and secretive, with soulful, dark eyes. He is trying to redeem himself through love. His last attempt was in the 18th century. It is time. He once owned a studio in Paris, where he would paint portraits of the aristocracy. Presently, he lives in New York City. He is an art collector who wanders the halls of a world famous museum which is right outside his front door.

He lives with his one and only best friend, Michel Baptiste. A childhood friend from France. Their lives continually connect through women. Women they have both loved and shared between them. Christian is an interesting blend of arrogance and reticence, self-doubt and confidence, lonliness and a love of humanity, despite being immortal. He keeps his deepest emotions to himself though they are never far from the surface.

His favorite clothing to wear (though not necessarily together) are: white shirts with lace sleeves and collars, brown jeans, a long black coat and cowboy boots. He parts his long blonde hair on the side, leaving half of his face in shadows. He is mysterious and passionate, loving books, art and Central Park at night. He hunts very little, and loves even less, until a young mortal woman crosses his path...

Is this it?

2007-06-22T20:38:00.000-04:00

I have just finished Immortal Obsession - actually I finished it about a week ago and now I am asking myself is it really finished, how do I know it is done? A wise friend replied "you will know." Shit, do I know or do I just think I know?

I have to edit the epilogue and then plan on letting it sit for a few days while I mull it over, trying to figure out if it needs more. Then I will reread it. We have no objectivity with our own work so as much as I try to look at it from a distance, it is impossible.

Two writing buddies have the first three chapters to read and edit. I want the first three chapters to really grab the reader, though I suppose they must grab a publisher or an agent first! In some strange way I feel that now the hard part begins, selling it

It Ain't Over Til the Fat Lady Sings

2007-06-03T11:45:00.000-04:00

I believe I am at the home stretch with my novel. I am not limiting myself to a specific number of chapters or pages. I am trying to write the story I believe I was meant to tell. Then I will put my novel down for a few days and let it "stew" in my heart and soul. Once I feel enough time has passed I go back and reread it to determine if it is indeed "finished". It has been almost two years since I began Immortal Obsession. I guess my only question is: is this the novel I envisioned when I began writing? Based on how I answer this basic question determines the outcome.

I write in layers. In other words, I start with a few chapters and a chapter outline. Then, I begin to add more chapters to move the plot along and thus my outline changes. I call it "flushing out" scenes because I write a thumbnail sketch of the scene and then go back to bring it to life. I hear dialogue in my head as my characters converse with each other. I hear the tone of their voices, see their faces, what they are wearing, and I try to capture this all on a piece of white paper with black ink, bringing the world of my vampires and to life. Sometimes they surprise me with their motives and their evolution.

I have know the ending of my book for some time now. I have in mind a trilogy of books and I know the conflict and the challenges Christian is faced with as Book One ends. I also trail my characters. I will read my novel and focus on one character, what are they doing, where are they, what are they saying and feeling throughout the entire novel. Then I trail another just to make sure their lives make sense and they are consistent within the inconsistencies of their lives. Where do conversations end between them? What is really being said - what has been left unsaid? Did I capture their essence? If not, then I need to go back and write more or rewrite a scene until I get it right.

It is thrilling, writing a novel, fraught with edits, rewrites, and changes in direction, as characters explode on the page, coming to life, dictating their own fates. It is a magical process , writing their story. I believe I am just the conduit to get them out there to you.

It is an important task and I cannot let them down.

Looking at Life like a Novel

2007-05-17T18:34:00.000-04:00

I am at that point in my novel where I am asking my characters, ok now what is it that you want? All conflicts have been laid out, I hope I have kept the reader riveted, and I now have to resolve all of these conflicts and ready the reader for the end. This disturbs me a little bit because life isn't really like that. If you look at your life up until now as a novel - title it whatever you wish, give yourself a chapter, say for each year of your life, and you follow writing guideslines, such as the first four chapters lay out the premise, introduce all the relevant characters, describe their problems, etc. Then you reach the middle and all conflicts are laid out - now wait a minute I am sorry but that is not like life.

New conflicts with lovers, family and friends can erupt at any time because hopefully we change and grow and if we do not stay the same, the people around appear differently to us and hopefully they can change with us. All characters just like all people do not necessarily evolve. It is a fact of life. And, who says everything gets resolved in the end. Is life like that? Did you get the chance to say goodbye to someone who dies suddenly, or what about someone who died a slow death? Were you able to tell them everything you needed to say, or better yet resolve the conflicts between you both? Sometime we just can't work things out with another person so we resolve them within ourselves. As writers we must write an ending that makes sense - yeah, I understand that but how much of our lives do not make sense? Have you ever lost some to a death so senseless that 30 years later you still don't understand the why of it? I have and if you are honest with yourself, things have happened that are forever disturbing, baffling and sad.

Sometimes there is no resolution, only acceptance.

Anyway, no matter what formulas we follow our novels can't be like real life - it just doesn't work out so neat and tidy. Maybe that is why I am struggling to write something vital and realistic yet not too formulaic. Ah, the life of a writer.

The heart wants what it wants

2007-04-30T07:16:00.000-04:00

Characters, just like real human beings, do not always make the best decisions. They say and do stupid things, rationalize their behavior and fall in love with the wrong people. I am at a point in my novel where Amanda, my antagonist, realizes she is in love with two men who are physically and emotionally very different. She needs and wants both of them, but for very different reasons. Is this good for her? What will it do to the friendship of the two men involved? Emotions are a powerful thing and no matter how much we try to suppress them, they rule us. I have tried to spare her this pain but this is what she wants and I cannot deny her this for it is her journey.

Blood, Sweat & Tears

2007-04-05T17:47:00.001-04:00

I love to write and I would do anything to just be able to write all day but reality creeps in and I find that work, family and friends takes up alot of my time. Then when I do sit down at the computer I try to put in a few hours of quality writing time. When I took ballet class and performed in recitals the formula was something crazy like 1 hour of rehearsal time for each minute of a dance piece. It could have been more hours but my point is that writing takes time and as we get older time just seems to slip by faster and faster.

I usually rough draft something out - say a chapter, then I tweak it and eventually I edit it again. I am finally tweaking Part Three of my Four Part Novel Immortal Obsession, but it takes time. I try to balance all the parts of my life. I try to cheat time and not give up too much to write but who am I kidding? No one can cheat time - maybe vampires can but not us mortals who give their blood, sweat and tears to create something of lasting value, something that may get printed and may get read.

It is a lot to hope for but I am driven to create so every time I sit at my computer I give more blood, drip more sweat and spill more tears all for the sake of a dream.

The End is Near

2007-03-22T20:30:00.000-04:00

My on-line writing course ends this week. Where did the last eight weeks go? I have enjoyed it thoroughly, improving my own writing, while critiquing my classmates work as well. It has been very time consuming yet I have made cyberspace friends, I feel my writing has improved and I have a clear direction for my novel.

I will miss our weekly schedule of submissions to read, plus the thrill of tossing out questions for to group, never knowing what type of response I would receive back from them. It is not for the faint hearted. They were tough but I know it helped me grow and isn't that what it is all about - finding the right words to tell your story, to bring your characters to life?

Damn right it is! Thanks guys!