Infernal Excerpt

An excerpt from Infernal, a horror novel about an adventurous group trying to escape a dangerous island.

She stood on that ledge and put the mouthpiece of her oxygen tank between her lips. She watched the opening at the top of her cage while Felix watched the shark. She held her camera close to her belly with both hands.

“Go,” he said, and she jumped.

The world went quiet. Not silent, but quiet. She sank down into the bottom of her cage and stayed there, turning on her camera and testing out the settings on the great open sea around her. When a shadow cut over her, she twisted up to film George from beneath as he circled the boat again. She stood, getting her bearings, and pushed the camera and her arms out the viewing hole to film the shark as he moved deeper, leaving the hunk of fish for a moment to circle her instead.

The cage shuddered, bobbed, and then started to move. Either Felix or Poppy were turning the crank to move her out from the boat. The chains rattled, making strange sounds in the water, the surface rippling around the top four edges. George seemed more interested when she moved, coming in closer, baring teeth for the camera and nudging the cage.

He swam between her and the boat and in the background of the shot she saw Felix drop down into the second cage. George whipped around to investigate and she filmed the massive fish closing in on Felix’s cage to take a closer look. The body of the shark blocked her view of the other cage completely and then, seemingly out of nowhere, a second shark burst up from the deep. Val knocked her shoulder against the bars but held fast to her camera. The second, larger shark shot straight up under George, caught his belly in her jaws and continued to thrust upward.

They breeched the surface together but with their combined weight, the flight was short-lived. They crashed back down and onto Felix’s cage. The whole back of the ship dipped down, pulled violently until either the cables or the rigging snapped. The sharks thrashed, stirring air into the water turned red with blood.

Val continued to hold the camera on reflex but stopped thinking about the shot. She stared over it in disbelief at the scene. The new shark, even larger than George, thrashed against the back of the boat atop the shark cage. She couldn’t see Felix through the writhing bodies of beasts and churning waters. Her heart sank low in her stomach when Felix’s cage dropped out from behind the fighting giants. She leaned hard into the front of her cage to see him slipping down into the dark, but the cage was empty. A sliver of relief washed over her, her body leaning forward into the bars and exhaling a gust of bubbles. Her gaze tore up to the fight again, suddenly horrified that he might be in those waters with the monster sharks.

Before she could worry about whether or not he had gotten out of the sea and into the boat, her own cage bobbed. Had the rigging really given way? Was her cage cut loose? It bobbed again, sinking lower, more than a meter from the surface now. Biting at her breather, she let go of the camera with one hand and pushed herself upward. Grabbing onto one edge of her cage and pulling, Val launched herself high enough to have her head break the surface. Water clung to her goggles and daylight gleamed, making her squint.

Felix stood on deck and even from this distance she could tell he was shouting, arms pulling with all his weight to try to turn the crank and drag her cage back in. It must have been stuck. They couldn’t reel her back to the boat. Lochner had left the wheelhouse, shouting something back to Felix and then pointing up at the rigging. Val looked up, squinting against the sun. The rigging had bent, half attached now where bolts ripped out and only struggling cables kept it together. Those cables were the ones still attached to her cage—dragging her in closer to the ship and closer to the sharks thrashing about the waters between.

Felix twisted to the side to look back at her. She was going to collide with the great whites. There was a chance she could survive just bunkered down in her vessel. There was a chance they would stop any second now and vanish into the deep. The water churned red, spraying into the air when a tail cut across the surface. There was also a chance they would push her cage down enough to snap those cables, or whatever fastened them to the ship, and she would have no choice but to swim up through that bloody water or sink to the bottom and eventually drown.

It seemed that the very moment she made her choice to abandon the cage, Felix climbed over the railing along the side of the ship and dove into the waters off the port. She pulled her legs up out of the cage and pushed off the metal railing. It was hard to swim away from the boat, away from safety rather than toward it, but she had to get distance from the struggle in the water. She sank down just enough to escape the splashing on the surface, breather exhaling bubbles and fins propelling her forward. She cut an arch in the blue, inelegant in the company of creatures made to swim.

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Writing The Wicker Witch

I have a couple projects in the works this year and among them are a few horror novellas/novels I’m writing and editing. I usually set aside a few weeks to write my first drafts. They’re sloppy but I get them done and then work on edits later on.

Last month I wrote my first draft of a work I’m currently calling The Wicker Witch. The first week went super smooth, the second got a little bumpy.

I dedicated a couple weeks to it and wrote five thousand words a day. My goal for the project was 50k but that was really just a guess. I wasn’t sure if it would come out longer or shorter.

I swear, I sent my dad a text first. He replied and that led to me calling him up at his 1:15am to talk about bridges for my book.

So the second week didn’t go quite as smooth as the first but I managed to stay on target for my word count. It went over the estimated 50k and into a third week. But it’s done!

And this is pretty much what it looks like! I write all my first drafts on Scrivener because you can have the outline in the same screen as well as a sidebar with character cards and this pretty little project target thingy!

Now, I should be on to editing this or one of the other finished first drafts on my desk BUT I jumped on another novella outline I had ready while I was still on a writing kick.

So, wish me luck! Because now I’m writing a novella about a demon and a mobster on a joyride!

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Burn Out

Burn out is something I’ve heard many artists and creators talk about and thought, naively, that I had been excused from it. I thought I’d been blessed and simply never burned out–never hit that unseen wall where all our plans and schedules and inspiration went smashing to bits.

I was wrong. And, in hindsight, I’ve had bouts of burn out plenty of times before and just didn’t recognize it. Mine sneaks up on me. It’s like the gas runs out but for a while, the wheels keep rolling and I think I’m fine. I’ve got no energy, no lust to work on my projects, no oomph to get shit done. What’s worse, I forget why I even want to do any of my projects. When I look back on the weeks of burn out, it seems like sinking but I know that when I was living it, I didn’t realize I was going down. I didn’t realize what it was at all, until I woke up from that haze of procrastination.

But, this time, I steered into it. I tried not to panic or question it. I blew February watching Netflix, listening to podcasts, reading books, and writing fanfiction. (And I went to the day job, so I wasn’t literally pajamas 24/7–but mentally I was.) My lists of to-do’s piled up and I was a ghost on social media.

Every time I’ve burned out, this time included, I’ve reached the point where I think, “Oh shit, I am never going to get anything done again. This is it. This is all I’ll ever want to do.” And it’s never been true. There comes a day, when I wake from the burn out like a storm has passed and suddenly I don’t want to watch TV or write fanfics anymore. Suddenly I have energy again and ideas for my stories and a desire to tackle social media and get out there and interact with people.

It’s taken me years to figure out, but I always come back. So, I try not to panic when I don’t have it in me to do everything–or anything. Instead, I try to listen to my body and what it needs, whether that’s a nap, or to binge watch soap operas, or write fanfics, or eat pancakes. I can’t do everything all the time. Sometimes my to-do’s pile up. And that’s okay, because I can do it later. I think the trick, for me, is recognizing and respecting my own limits and not making myself feel bad for them.

This picture below is one I took the day after I woke up from my hazy February. I think I got more done on the 1st of March than I did the whole two months before and this week I’m tackling the editing of a ghost story I wrote last October and it’s going great!  So, I’m going to leave this here for Future Me, in her next burn out, to look at and remember that she’s great at this! …But she doesn’t have to be great at it every damn day.

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My Writing Space

Welcome to my writing space!

With the second book of the Crowns & Ash Series out in the world and a horror novella coming soon, I took the morning to clean my desk and snap a picture. The post-its usually get out of hand and end up covering most of it.

I have little lights up on the board  and around the pots that I turn them on when I’m writing. I like to think they help me focus when I’m having trouble getting work done.

The big cork board is covered in pictures, postcards, info notes to myself, a calendar, and pretty much anything I need to not lose.

Highest up is my burgeoning collection of prints! They’re beautiful and I feel so inspired when I look up at them.

I also have my purple work tie on the board. I wear it when it’s time to get to work–usually when I’m having trouble focusing.

Computer: Acer

Keyboard: Razor Ornata

I bought it after my first paycheck from writing. I picked it for the clacking sounds and the lights under the keys. I love it so much! I can even set it to do rainbow ripples after my keystrokes. Not going to lie–that was my primary keyboard criteria.

 

This is the tidiest my writing space ever looks. Is your work space prone to clutter too, or is it just me?

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Escaping Exile with Sara Dobie Bauer

Sara Dobie Bauer is one of my favorite romance writers and we’re all in luck because her novella, Escaping Exile, is available now! The first in a trilogy, Escaping Exile introduces us to a vampire trapped on an island for his crimes where the last thing he expects to find is the love of his very long life.

I can’t recommend Sara Dobie Bauer’s work enough! Her characters are deep and complicated, making their love stories the same.

My review is available on Goodreads and below is my interview with the author, all the links you might need, and an excerpt from Escaping Exile!

 

I started off this interview by nosily asking for a picture of Sara Dobie Bauer’s work space and a description because I can’t be the only one that loves to see where people write. Can I? No. No? No!

I overlook King Street in Small Town Ohio, so I’m basically like Jimmy Stewart in Rear Window watching and judging all my neighbors, although I haven’t witnessed a murder yet. Passerby probably think I’m the neighborhood maniac; people who’ve met me know I’m the neighborhood maniac.

What does your writing process look like? Do you listen to music? Have a special cup?

It’s a lot of me typing, deleting, and staring at walls. Honestly, as a full time writer, my entire life is just weird. I wake up at seven and start work at eight. The morning is reserved for creative endeavors—either the novel I’m currently writing or maybe a short story or editing. The afternoons are for marketing work and journalism. I work in utter silence. The only sound is me talking to my dogs. I have three special coffee cups, and they’re all huge. One is of the Harry Potter Marauder’s Map; the other is Jack Skellington’s huge head; and the third says “Resting Witch Face.”

Coffee, tea or something else?

Coffee with honey. I wish I was one of those writers who could artfully sip whiskey while writing, but I have to be stone sober.

If you were stranded on an island and could only choose one book to have with you, which one would it be?

No fair! I protest this question! If I could have my Kindle and miraculously plug into a wireless network, I would be quite content on Archive of Our Own. I’ve been reading so much Call Me By Your Name fan fiction lately because I want the movie to have a happy ending—and its doesn’t, okay? If I had to choose a single book … nope, I can’t. Something by Rainbow Rowell or KJ Charles or!!! What about the entire Harry Potter series? I might be able to live with that.

How long do you think you’d survive being shipwrecked?

Is there rum? If there’s rum, I could last awhile. Are Andrew and Edmund there? If I could watch them have sex (and hopefully join), I could last a lot longer.

This isn’t the first of your books I’ve read, and I can’t help but notice a certain toothy theme. What do you think draws you to vampires? When did the bloody love affair start?

The bloody love affair started when I read Interview with the Vampire in sixth grade. Probably a bit young for that, but … anyway. Vampires are usually beautiful, charming, ageless, sexually fluid, and a bit androgynous. (I love androgyny.) I can get down on all those things. There’s also something super erotic about being bitten. TMI?

 

About the author:

Sara Dobie Bauer is a bestselling author, model, and mental health / LGBTQ advocate with a creative writing degree from Ohio University. Twice nominated for the Pushcart Prize, she lives with her hottie husband and two precious pups in Northeast Ohio, although she’d really like to live in a Tim Burton film. She is author of the paranormal rom-com Bite Somebody series, among other sexy things. Learn more at http://SaraDobieBauer.com.

(Photo by Steph Gentry)

About Escaping Exile:

Andrew is a vampire from New Orleans, exiled to a tropical island in the 1800s as punishment for his human bloodlust. During a storm, a ship crashes off shore. After rescuing a sailor from the cannibals native to the land, Andrew becomes fascinated with his brilliant, beautiful new companion, Edmund.

Edmund is a British naturalist who has sailed the world seeking new species. Intrigued by creatures that might kill him, immortal Andrew is this scientist’s dream—but so is making his way back home. Edmund will fight to survive, even while wrapped in the arms of a monster.

As light touches and laughter turn to something much more passionate, the cannibals creep ever closer to Edmund. Can the ancient vampire keep his human alive long enough to escape exile and explore their newfound love, or will Andrew’s bloodlust seal his own doom?

Links:

Amazon

NineStar Press

Goodreads

Escaping Exile excerpt:

I barely notice the falling of night, but here we are in the dark again. My fingers have mapped almost every inch of him by now as his bruises continue to spread. I’ve just about resigned myself to never hearing him sigh when he gasps awake.

He sits up and sucks air into his lungs as if he’s spent the past two days drowning. I keep my hands on his shoulders and see that his eyes are light—some shade of gray or bright blue like the sea.

“You’re all right,” I say.

“Bollocks,” he gasps. Then he chokes, and I hurry to get him water from the large rain bucket outside. He gulps down a cup before wiping the back of his hand over his mouth and staring up at me. “Where…” His eyes glaze over. “The ship!” He tosses the blankets back and stands with no concern for his nudity. I’m there to catch him when he almost falls over.

“You need to sit.” I push him back down to the edge of my bed and sit in the chair nearby.

He winces and bends forward. “Christ, I hurt everywhere. I…” He squeezes his eyes shut.

I now know not only the color of those eyes but also the sound of his voice: velvet with a touch of smoke. I want to hear that voice calling my name. Also, he’s English, which truly does make me wonder where the hell Michelle found this ridiculous island for my exile. Where in God’s name are we? My sailor will probably be just as confused as I when he realizes I’m American, but he seems too confused by other things at the moment to care.

“Where am I?”

I want to laugh but don’t. “Your ship crashed on the reef last night. I found you on the beach.”

“I was on deck,” he says without looking at me. “Mapping the stars.” His tongue pokes out to lick his lips. “There was a noise, and then… My head, I think…” He reaches for his forehead, but I grab his wrist to stop him.

“Don’t. You have an open wound.”

“Oh. That would explain the hammering in my skull. The rest of the crew?”

I shake my head. “I didn’t find anyone else.”

He covers his face with his hands and says with vehemence, “Fuck.”

The word from his mouth makes me smile. I’ve always found the British to be a charming, self-deprecating people, but of their propriety, I have been less than enthused. My sailor seems on the more colorful spectrum. And his comfort with nudity is a welcome relief. If I had my way, the man would never wear clothes.

He lifts his head. “We must go to the beach.”

“It’s not a good idea.”

“Why not? I might be able to find—” He shrugs. “—anything.”

“I fear the natives might be too fond of you.”

He groans. “Not cannibals again!”

 

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