The last year and a half has been a challenging one. I’ve been busy with medical relief mission work, as well as with academic and research writing. With three major presentations coming up in Fall 2018, and being on call for an upcoming mission to the Souther Border of the US, my mind has very focused on real life.
In my last blog, I spoke about how switching genres had helped me overcome a stubborn case of writer’s block after Storm Watch, the third and final book in the Unfinished Business Series was published in July 2017. I hadn’t made any progress on my urban fantasy novel since NaNoWriMo, but was bitten by a bug during a recent vacation in California. I’ve now got 20,000 words of a Contemporary Western Romance written, and I’m waking up in the middle of the night to jot down scenes. I’ve got a new dictation app because trying to read what I’ve scrawled in the dark is much harder than deciphering the garble they sometimes deliver.
My fiction career began when true life events spurned me to write my first novel to “write the wrongs.” And for the last thirteen years (still can’t believe that) I’m often tandem writing non fiction and fiction with similar themes, hence my motto: “walking through walls is easier than running into them.” And this new as yet untitled novella, which may just turn out to be a novel, will be no exception. It’s not paranormal, since my heroine, who has never shot a gun, just picked one up (instead of a wand) to keep a law enforcement agency off her California ranch without a warrant.
The novella started out as the story of Cara who returns twenty years after she was taken by her mother from their ranch when she was seven years old. In addition to the story of Cara’s renunion with the ranch hands and their now grown children, it is soon to be enhanced by upcoming real life experiences.
From Lioness Ridge (working title)
“I love her, Mama.”
“Did you tell her that?” Lupe stopped putting the dishes away.
“Of course, and things were going really well, until that night.” He sorted utensils into the drawer to distract himself.
“She’s reliving her mother’s life–and running away like Sheila did. So what are you going to do?” Lupe took a stack of plates and stacked them in the cupboard.”
“Be patient.” He arranged all the teaspoons in a neat pile.
“Haven’t you been patient long enough? It wasn’t a housekeeper’s place to tell Ricardo to go get his wife and daughter and bring them home. But I don’t want to see you make the same mistake.” Lupe dropped the rest of the spoons on top of his masterpiece.
He slammed the drawer shut .”How can I just show up on her doorstep? How will I find her?”
“You’ll get off the plane, hail a cab, give them the address, knock on the door, propose to her. Francisco, what are you afraid of?”
“Her saying no.”
Lupe put her hands on her hips. “Cara was traumatized by what her mother did, and that was re awoken when the truck stopped at our door. All those poor people reminded her seven-year-old soul of how her mother snatched her. She needs love and support to be able to face those fears and come home for good.” She spoke loudly and toward were they’d surmised a bug had been planted during the raid.
“Cara certainly didn’t look like she was afraid.”
“That little kid inside remembers the incidents leading up to her mother taking her away. The arguments, the tension, the fear. Don’t wait for her to make the first move. The worst that can happen is you’ll get to see New York City.”
“Cara says August is the worst time to visit. Too hot, too humid….”
“Stop making excuses. You have to fight for what you want, Francisco.” Lupe kissed him on the cheek.
He grabbed his mother, held her tight, and cried like he was a ten-year-old kid who’d just lost his best friend–again.