Guest Post: Being a writer is like … by Lisa Beth Darling

Guest Post by Lisa Beth Darling

Being a Writer is Like….

Being held captive in an insane asylum.

Think about it, there’s you the writer and supposedly ‘the sane one’ then one day you’re completely taken over by these voices in your head. They’re not just voices, you can see them, you can feel their breath on your face, you feel the heat radiate from their disembodied bodies, you smell their scent either their perfume, cologne, or just the raw musk of them fills your nose. Some of them are crazy, there’s no doubt about it, some of them are absolutely off their rockers. Others are sane but devious. Others still are sweet and innocent…usually they’re victims in my stories.

There they are this entire motley crew all clamoring for your attention from inside their respective rooms (cells) deep in your sub-conscious. At first you, as the dutiful warden and caretaker of the hallowed place, do your best to give it to them one at a time as you lay the foundation of your story or as in this instance, as you repair the foundation of the asylum. That is until they run you ragged as you race room to room and you find you’re up at two in the morning, fingers flying across the keyboard, showing no signs of slowing down as you’re lost deep in whatever tale they’re telling and you have to be at work at 8am.

Individual attention won’t do, it’s too slow, it takes too long and, let’s face it, Life doesn’t wait for us to finish our stories or even the next paragraph before it just goes along on its merry way without you. So you make the mistake of holding a Group Session. You open the doors, march them down to the Therapy Room, and think you’re going to conduct a healthy chat. When everyone is gathered in one place, each out of their rooms and off their chains, they descend on you like a hoard of locusts. They overtake every waking and sleeping moment (I’ve had the best dreams under these circumstances). They won’t shut up, they won’t go away, and they won’t give you five minutes of peace while you’re trying to do the grocery shopping! They bicker amongst themselves and with you until their voices culminate in a great crescendo that has you at the keyboard six hours a day, ignoring all but the most basic functions of; sleep, eat, work, and use the bathroom. The latter is held off as long as possible. I can’t even begin to tell you how many bills slipped my mind while in this mode or how many times grocery shopping wasn’t done at all because I couldn’t take the time away from the story to do it or how many times we ate take-out because I couldn’t be bothered to cook.

You are locked in this darkened room with these crazy people until you’re able to type what I consider the two most dreaded words in writing; The End.  The door doesn’t magickally open at that point although it does unlock it seems to stick as you go through the editing process and the voices slowly go back to speaking one at a time.

Yes, it won’t be until a while after you get your book to market—in the case of an Indie writer like me—that you’ll be able to herd the disembodies entities back to their respective rooms and lock them away again.  Then you can go grocery shopping and pay the electric bill before it gets turned off.  You can take a breath and try to get back to the Real World for a while knowing you’ve earned a little vacation but it won’t be long before they’re clanging their metal cups against the bars as they call out your name. It’s at that point you discover just how massive this rundown asylum truly is, how many residents there are in those rooms and wandering down twisting corridors full of dust and peeling paint. It’s endless, boundless, each resident has their own story to tell, each rotted door opens onto something new and you never know what it’s going to be until you have the courage to open it up and walk through to the other side.

***

Lisa Beth Darling has two new books to share with us.

SINS OF THE FATHER
BOOK #2 SISTER CHRISTIAN SERIES
BY LISA BETH DARLING

As Hannah recovers from emergency brain and heart surgery, memories of the past take over her dreams with such clarity they cannot be denied. As the last of the painful family secrets, including what really happened the night of Hannah’s accident and the circumstances surrounding the death of her only son, Little Ricky, come to light it’s up to her brother, Doctor Richard Mason, and his unconventional methods to help her confront the ugliness.  For it is only when we deal with our demons that we can leave them behind and work toward a bright future.

Please note this novel/series is NOT a “Christian” or “religious” story. Adult themes apply and reader discretion is advised.

 

 

EXCERPT:
Something that sounded like a shotgun blast echoed through the church. Father Murphy ran out of the vestibule. “What is it?”

“Someone’s at the door.” Sister Cynthia said.

“Who knocks on the door of a church?” Father Murphy huffed.  The sound came again. It was sharp and demanded attention. Those were not knuckles wrapping at the door.

Outside in the rain, Spaulding turned to Mason and echoed Father Murphy’s sentiment. “What’s wrong with you? No one knocks on the door of a church.”

“How ya supposed to get ’em to let ya in?”

“Open the door?” Spaulding put his hand on the handle as he went to push it; it was opened from the other side. “Oh, hello, Father.” He stuttered.

Father Murphy looked at the two men standing in the pouring rain. “Are you here for her?  Please tell me that the Lord has guided your steps and brought you here for her.”

“Actually it was a trail of broken glass, not God.” Mason said gruffly. “Where is she? Where’s Hannah?”

Father Murphy held out his arm and stood aside. “Come this way, My Son.”

Putting one foot over the threshold of the church Mason looked at the priest, “Let’s get one thing straight right now, Padre, I’m not your son.”

COLD NOVEMBER RAIN
BOOK #2 IN THE DOC SERIES
BY LISA BETH DARLING

Mason and his Mystery Lover meet again in the second installment of the hot adult The Doc Series.  As he becomes sucked into her world of insanity, hot sex and crazy love ensue much against Mason’s better judgment.  Mason is not alone in his lust for the fair ‘Rose’. Someone else is watching and seething over her loss, someone who will stop at nothing to get even with Mason for taking her away. Even murder.

 

EXCERPT:

Rick felt his heart drop; she was here but she’d already picked out her prey for the night.

Feeling his jaw clench as he tried to decide if he should stay or go, Tony put a glass of scotch on the bar for him.  There wasn’t any sense in letting good booze go to waste.  Turning his back to his Mystery Woman, Rick retrieve the drink only to discover the large mirror behind the bar gave him a better angle on her companion for the evening; male, maybe thirty, good looking.  Lucky guy didn’t know what he was in for tonight.  The Mystery Woman raised her empty glass to catch Tony’s attention and, like a good bartender, Tony went right over to her with a fresh Martini.  Downing the double-shot, Rick gazed in the mirror to stare at her reflection, she was staring at his back from the corner of her pale green eyes as she chatted with the man across from her.

Rick looked away wondering if it was just coincidence or if she’d noticed him sitting there so he gave it a few moments while he lingered over his drink before glancing into the mirror again. This time she wasn’t taking a sneak peek at him from the corner of her eye she was looking directly at him, past him, at his reflection. When she saw him staring back at her, she smiled for him.  Shy. Precocious. Full of promise.

Was she wishing he’d come over there? Maybe.  Only one way to find out.

Rick eased himself off the barstool and made his way over to where the couple was engaged in light conversation. “Excuse me,” he said to the man in the booth, “You’re in my seat.”

“Pardon?” The man asked as he looked from him to her. “Were you waiting for this guy?”

“Actually,” she said softly, “I was.”  She was surprised and delighted by the Doc’s forthrightness. “Hi, Do-c.”

There it was, ‘Do-c’, just the way she said in it his dreams, with that extra little coy kick she gave the ‘c’.  It made him want to melt. “Hi.” Rick said to her. “Three’s a crowd.” He said to the man. “Go on beat it.”

 

AUTHOR BIO:

Lisa lives in her hometown of New London, CT with her husband of 28 years, Roy. Together the two have raised two adult daughters and, as of this writing, are anxiously awaiting the arrival of their first grandchild.

Author Links:

Author website: http://www.moonsmusings.com
Author blog: http://lbdarling.wordpress.com
Author Facebook: http://facebook.com/lbdarling

Kindle/Amazon http://www.amazon.com/author/lisadarling
Smashwords https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/lisadarling
Nook http://www.barnesandnoble.com/c/lisa-beth-darling
iBooks http://itunes.apple.com/us/artist/lisa-beth-darling/id411650358?mt=11

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