07 November 2008

Imaginary men aren't easy...

I recently finished and submitted book two of The Sentinels. Still waiting to hear from my editor on that one as I look forward to the release of DREAM WALK. Seems like I'm always waiting for something. (sigh)

In the natural order of progression, I should begin book three. After all, I know the characters and the basic skeleton of the plot, including some meatier details. I even have an inkling of the 'black moment' that will briefly tear the hero and heroine apart. So what's the problem?

Lack of focus, for one thing, not to mention the annoying life roller-coaster that I've been stuck on for the last two months. It's a ride that shows no sign of ending anytime soon thanks to the holidays looming on the track ahead.

Yes, it could be all those things -- some of the more personal stuff you can read about on my own blog -- or it could be the fact that my muse has an attention deficit problem of epic proportions.

But that's not where I cast blame. No. I blame a figment of my imagination... a tall, dark, sexy, enigmatic figment.

His name is Davu Johnson, and he's the hero of book five. FIVE, not three. He does, however, appear in each story. He's the old man. The very ancient Sentinel with a shadowed past. I don't know all the details, yet. He also has the ability to read minds, see the future (to some extent), and a sarcastic sense of humor.

Before you start to wonder, NO, he is not an Acheron knock-off. Davu is mine. All mine. He's not a god. He wasn't horribly abused throughout his childhood, and doesn't actually lead the Sentinels. He's more of an advisor. A councilor. The guy who kicks them in the ass when they get out of line or act like babies.

Until recently, he's also been very quiet. Didn't want to divulge much about himself, his past or his preferences in women. In fact, he's been a big pain in the rear to write. But all of that has changed. He's become more and more real to me...more and more vocal. And he wants to tell me his story. Now.

Did I mention that I need to write book three? NOT book five. NOT Davu's story. Not yet. I tell him that -- internally, of course, no need to expose my unique 'talents' to the world -- and he just grins. Oh, yes, even the imaginary men in my life are difficult.
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