Today we have a special guest: Minnette Meador, discussing her writing process and her new release, A Ghost of a Chance. Let’s give her a special welcome:
By Minnette Meador
As I sit here, trying to figure out what exactly my writing process is like, it makes me wonder; do I have a process? Do I write by the seat of my pants? Am I a plotter, who has to have everything written down to the last kiss? Am I a combination of both? Well, I have to admit it; I’m all of the above.
A Ghost of a Chance came about when I took my own experiences and asked myself a couple of “what if” questions. What if there were thousands of disembodied people around that none of the rest of us could see? What if one guy, one poor luckless guy, through a twist of chromosomes and a little interference from the angels, could see all of them? The rest took off from there.
I did plot this book (i.e. I wrote down what I wanted to happen when and who it should happen to), but the characters had minds of their own. For me that’s often the case. You’re writing along, perfectly happy, when your hero decides to go over there. Sometimes you pull him back and lecture him on the assets of clean writing, but sometimes you realize he was right; that was a much better place to go. So now, you have to reorganize your plot, go back and make changes to things he did earlier, and tell him this better be worth your time. It usually is.
Writing for me is a combined process of organizing my story, creating characters that are perfect and then roughing them up some (i.e. give them flaw, idiosyncrasies, petty foibles, and the like), creating the world they live in, whether fact or fiction, building giant outrageous stumbling blocks that are almost impossible to get through by asking, “How could this get any worse?” (I call that the never challenge “worse” equation), and then writing it all down.
The rest, as they say, is history. I would like to tell you that I am in complete control of my stories. In fact, I’d like to tell you that the creative process is a kitten who only wants love and a saucer of milk. The fact of the matter is that creatively for me can be a snarling monster, bigger than my imagination and twice as mean as a charging bull. It keeps me up late at night, interferes with my fun time, and is the most satisfying things I’ve ever done.
Keenan Swanson is your typical, everyday graphic designer. Well, except for the hundreds of pesky, prank-loving poltergeists that make his life interesting (in a Chinese curse sort of way). He finds his situation precarious yet manageable—until witty, smoking-hot coworker Isabella enters the scene and Keenan decides he wants her all for himself. With a horny succubus who has other ideas, a burly city cop determined to lock Keenan away, and an evil entity who’s hell-bent on using Keenan’s seed to create a living demon, the reluctant psychic realizes he just might not come out of this alive—or with heart intact.
The dream was so real.
Hands slithered over Keenan’s body, but they were detached somehow. It was hard to describe. Starting on his scalp, the hot tickling sensation sent tendrils of pleasure down his gut and directly into his cock. It was painfully erect, aching for a good hard squeeze, but he couldn’t reach down to touch it.
A weight pressed down on his body, holding him to the bed. Keenan could actually feel his body sinking into the mattress. Something heavy, like invisible clay, pressed against his face. He couldn’t move. He wasn’t scared at all…just horny as hell.
The hands massaging his scalp moved down to his face, pressing his eyes closed with what he could only assume must have been thumbs. They moved down his face and found his lips, parted them, and thrust a slender finger into his mouth. There was no taste, but the soft, warm texture electrified his senses. He sucked on it instinctively. It was deeply sexual and made his cock throb in anticipation. To his utter dismay the finger slipped from his mouth and trailed down his chin.
Keenan opened his eyes. Light from an outside streetlamp illuminated the foot of his bed and half his dresser. When she appeared in a wisp at his feet, he had to struggle to lift his head enough to see her.
Naked heaving breasts came into view; the nipples were long, slate hard, and the areolas black against dark skin. Her waist and hips were slim. Stretched fingers pinched the nipples, making them longer, more rigid. The triangle of her pussy was bald, the slit dark and inviting. Hazy clouds covered her face, making it soft and featureless, but billowing tendrils of black hair twisted out from around it, flowing in a wind Keenan couldn’t hear. It moved in a watery dance.
The covers glided slowly down his body. The soft touch of the silk made his cock twinge in agony and he gritted his teeth to hiss his pleasure. Electric shocks ignited the nerves in his neck, shoulders, and arms. When Keenan was completely exposed, he wasn’t cold. His cock sprang into ready position. The hair on his arms and legs snapped with static.
You Can Stalk Minnette at these Sites:
Buy Link for A Ghost of a Chance:
Minnette will be giving away a Kindle at the end of her blog tour!! Anyone who comments here will be entered into that drawing. One randomly drawn commenter from the tour itself will– in addition– win a $100 Amazon gift certificate. Follow her tour and comment for more chances to win! Tour information and dates can be found here: http://goddessfishpromotions.blogspot.com/2011/05/virtual-book-tour-ghost-of-chance-by.html.