I’m supposed to be writing a blog post about writing. Let’s be honest, there hasn’t been much of that going on around here lately. I won’t bore you with the details, because it’s not supposed to be a blog post about lack-of-writing.
Why, then, you may ask, am I writing this? RJ asked me to, and I adore her.
RJ Scott is celebrating her writing anniversary this weekend. I’m so happy for her. She had a fabulous backlist, and she’s a sweet, wonderful person. At the same time, I’m insanely jealous. You see, I signed on with Silver Publishing just a couple of short months after RJ did. Look at her long list of books and accolades, and then… oh, I really need to get back into writing!
Okay, you got me. It’s a friendly kind of jealous. I am truly happy for RJ, and that’s why I’m blogging during her weekend celebration. I’m using her however. That is, I’m using RJ as inspiration. I’ve let my Day Job get in the way of writing lately. I need to find that Muse again. Last week, I read RJ’s Deefur Dog, and it made me want to carve time out to write a story of my own A good book will always do that to me — push the reader into writer mode. So thanks, RJ, and congratulations on your anniversary. It’s well earned!
That would be my lesson to you for this blog hop, cari miei. It’s exciting to get started, but just like those first rejection letters, sometimes it’s frustrating too. Writing has its ups and downs, but if you can stand strong and weather the downs, the ups come back eventually. And if you don’t, you may be waiting a very long time to celebrate your own publishing anniversary.
I love RJ’s writing, dear Readers. If you have yet to experience Oracle, or Deefur Dog, or any number of other works that she’s written alone, or with other authors, take this weekend to do so. (By the way, she’s giving away a sweet prize during this celebration, so yet another reason to click the links.)
Before you go, however, I’d like to share an excerpt of that first story I published in those first few months when we were both wide-eyed at experiencing the publishing process for the first time, and then I’m going to squeeze in a little work on the still untitled sequel to Man Whore. I promise!
Without further ado, here’s an excerpt of my first Silver work — the one with the lickable Jimmy Thomas in wings on the cover — Fallen.
Angels can, and do, fall from Heaven. Most of the time it is willingly, like today, but other times, they are cast down for their sins and that Fall is much, much harder. I would rather not discuss this. It breaks my heart to consider the rare brethren who fail so completely that they Fall into the innermost circles of Hell.
A fall is not gentle or graceful, but being as immortal as a sentient creature can get, I am not harmed when I land on Earth. I can be disoriented, which has yet to get any easier with experience, but I accept this and plan my landing accordingly.
I land in a crouch, taking the impact through my legs and up my body. A large object looms in my unfocused vision to the left. It hits me, and I sprawl across pavement.
This hurts much more than falling.
Yes, I am an angel, and yes, it is true I cannot die a mortal death. I can, however, feel pain when ensconced in a human body. I close my eyes and take a silent inventory of myself. I hurt, yes, but my injuries are not severe. I will bruise, but nothing is broken. Human body, but not a human mind; I am confident of my diagnosis.
“Oh, shit. I’m so sorry.”
I open my eyes to see from where the voice emanates. A blur moves towards me from that direction.
The voice asks, “Are you okay?” The face is still fuzzy, but I am settling slowly into my human senses. “Can you move? I’ll call an ambulance.”
His words help me snap through the fog of my fall. I grab his arm as he flips his portable phone open. “No,” I say, “I do not need an ambulance.”
I hurt, yes, but doctors would slow me down and do very little otherwise. I heal quicker than a true human and an angel’s physical form can sometimes cause the little hairs on the back of a doctor’s neck to quiver. They know, but they do not. Professional instinct is strong, though we often appear the same as our mortal charges.
I blink, my eyes focusing on the face hovering over me. I cannot go to the hospital because I have found him. I cannot explain how I know he is the one; I am a guardian angel, and he is my charge. I know.
He is beautiful in his concern, but I recognize sorrow veiled in his deep brown eyes. “So brown,” I whisper. I blink. I had not intended to say a word.
“You’re hurt,” he says, blushing.
“I will be fine.” I sit up, and he turns his hand to take mine and assist me. I am surprised to find I need his strength to steady me. Closing my eyes, I again seek out broken bones or internal injuries. I find nothing, but I am still shaken.
“Are you sure? Look, I’m really sorry.”
When I attempt to stand, his hand is there, helping me. With his arm around my waist, I ease myself to my feet. I look up into his eyes. He did not look tall while I sat on the pavement, but now, both of us on our feet, he looks down at me. My heart pounds in my chest, and the adrenaline makes me sway on my feet.
“Shit. I really think we should get you to the hospital.” He catches me, though I am not falling. Not any more anyway.
Want to read more?
Fallen is available in ebook, print, and audio formats from Silver Publishing, as well as your favorite third-party distributors.
I’m giving away one ebook and one audio copy this weekend. Just leave your comment here to enter (please include you email with the @ written out to avoid the spam filter, and your format choice — audio, prc, pdf, etc)
And don’t forget to check out the other bloggers celebrating with RJ, and actually managing to blog about writing like they’ve been asked.
Happy weekend, cari miei, and happy anniversary RJ Scott!