Day Dream Believer
I remember the first story I ever really wrote...way back in the 4th grade. I’m not sure what Mrs Moore’s goal was, other than to make us practice elements of English that she’d been trying to force into our demented little minds. But our assignment, to write a story with the main character going through a magic tunnel, stretched our imaginations.
Ahem. As an inveterate day-dreamer, I have to confess stretching my imagination has never been a problem. In school, I’d miss crucial details on assignments because I’d be creating worlds and people in my mind. Today, in business meetings, I have had to force myself to focus, to stay in the now and not think about the fascinating worlds or characters prowling through my mind.
Heartstone began in one such meeting. I started with the idea of a lone woman and infant wondering down a rural highway, dazed, confused and not knowing where they came from or who they were. That’s how Keriam, the heroine of Heartstone, came into being. She was the child who grew up with no idea that she’d come from another world. But what were she and her mother doing there? How did they get there?
As a writer, these kinds of questions filter through my mind at the oddest moments. One day, I was leafing through a magazine at the doctor’s office and I saw a photo of a truly gorgeous, bare-chested hunk with dark hair and silvery gray eyes. His eyes, both the color and the expression, reminded me of a wolf photo I’d recently seen. I knew I had to put him in a book. His name became Eric and he was a shape shifter. Here’s how I introduce both Eric and Keriam’s ‘mental problem’.
In the window, her cousin, Janna, fluffed the skirt of an old ivory wedding dress. Keriam smiled, remembering how the young woman had held it up to her body and admired it in the oval mirror. A true romantic, Janna fantasized about her wedding day constantly.
At least one of them had a fantasy.
In three hours, people would come into the store and browse through the collection of lovingly worn antiques.
People. Strangers.
She swallowed and rubbed suddenly damp palms against her pants legs. She took a deep breath. Released it slowly.
She and Janna would chat with them. Point out the eighteenth century armoire, the Art Deco or the kitschy collection of farm implements gracing the walls. Everything was going to be just fine.
Her stomach took a queasy roll.
Facing people she knew, and ones she didn't, was going to be hard. It hadn't always been so, just since her parents died. She inhaled raggedly at the surge of grief. So much had changed for her since then. But today was going to be a good day. It was, she repeated.
Janna backed out of the window. A moment later, she trotted through the front door to stand at Keriam's side. Her cousin's excitement poured off her in waves.
"Well? What do you think? Is it fantastic?" Janna asked.
"Oh, yes. Seriously fantastic."
"Are you sure?"
"It's beautiful." Keriam focused on the display, on the wedding dress with its yards of lace, fighting the rush of anxiety and joyous anticipation Janna was feeling. It would be worse if Janna actually touched her, she knew, and kept a careful distance between them. "Now. Let's get ready for hordes of customers to make us filthy rich."
"In your dreams," Janna said, laughing. As she passed through the door, she added, "Mine, too."
Keriam stopped as the weight of unseen eyes danced over her skin like thorny little ant-feet. She whirled, taking in the entire street with a sweeping glance.
Roseberg’s small business district, composed of ancient brick storefronts, would soon be bustling but now was serenely quiet. And yet...
Someone was watching her.
Across the street, a large black dog sniffed a reproduction coach lamp near the curb. Keriam dismissed the animal, letting her gaze move toward the intersection. A shadow, long and sharp in the sun's slanting rays, moved and vanished before Keriam could identify it. No faces pressed against the glass of the shops lining Main Street. There was no traffic.
Her attention returned to the dog. It sat, tongue lolling, tail idly sweeping the sidewalk. It had a feral tilt to its pale eyes that made her think wolf. Which was ridiculous, there weren't any wolves in this part of Michigan.
Then...expectancy flashed through her body, heightening her perception. From the east came the scent of the pig farms and the rendering plant, faint but distinguishable to her acute senses. Automobile fumes from the highway drifted, mingling with the occasional perfume of green, growing things from the surrounding farmlands. A silent call hung in the cool, morning air and she let the door close without going inside. She shut her eyes, fighting the urge to follow the call, to abandon Janna and the store.
A single, deep bark cut through the wild sensations and, as if a door slammed shut, the scents were gone, the call silenced. Her heart skipped a beat, then skittered like a wild thing. These episodes were coming far too often. And too powerfully. How long before she could no longer fight them?
In fact, Eric is the ‘dog’ Keriam sort of adopts at the beginning of the book and calls Wolfgang. Eric/Wolfgang, in true hero form, is there to protect Keriam from the villain who has just attacked her in this next excerpt.
She had to get away, had to run while Marc and the dog fought. Almost weeping, she couldn't find the strength to stand up as bout after bout of nausea wracked her body, doubling her over, making it impossible to stand much less run.
She had to get up. Had to.
Other sounds, the pound of running feet and the scrabble of clawed toes on dead leaves, broke through the haze in her mind. Get up, get up, she exhorted and stood on unsteady legs. She fastened on one thought--Run.
Suddenly there was silence.
Run!
"Keriam?" The soft male voice nearly stopped her short. She ignored it, took a faltering step away from the horror.
Run!
Keriam stumbled into a shuffling run.
A body stepped in front of her, cutting her off. A very naked, very male body.
She stared at him, incredulous, her lungs screaming for breath as her mind screamed for understanding.
"You must come with me," he said. Dark, wavy hair fell onto a face that had a rough elegance, yet was too strong to be conventionally handsome. His eyes were a compelling crystal gray, like smoke on a mirror, and were vaguely familiar.
Her gaze shuttled from his face, down his gleaming chest, and then centered on the junction of his powerful sweat-slick thighs. His penis bobbed, starting to swell, and her breath locked in her throat. She shuddered, staggered back.
He extended his hand toward her palm up and said, gently, "I will not hurt you, Keriamsadhe."
She clamped her mouth shut on a bout of hysterical laughter. Then she saw the patch of light looming behind him. A large, shining oval, a window, which revealed a forest in the full light of day.
Light that came from two directions.
Light with a distinctive orange tint. The birds within that window of light had bright, glittery scales and slender, forked tongues.
Mutants, naked men, windows to other worlds. She swayed, weak-kneed and her vision arrowed down to a tiny pinprick of light, then went black.
One of my early creative writing instructors insisted the story was in the details and he was right. I needed a home world and a hero for Keriam. But twenty six years after she and her mother left it, her home doesn’t look anything like it did. Purlea had been terraformed into a garden world in its heyday. But, after the planet was lost to the villain, the planet’s natural ecology began reasserting itself. The image of Purlea, after the terraforming began to fail, is based on one of the old Windows wallpapers that came on my PC.
The landscape was just as barren, bleak and desolate as it had looked on the holo-image. The wind moaned across the rocky plains like a tortured demon. Keriam pulled her cap down and her collar up to protect her face from the blowing dust and grit. The only signs of life were low, sulky bushes and a sooty yellow grass that hugged the ground stubbornly. Keriam thought it would be better off if it let go and flew into space. Eric resettled the pack on his shoulders after Froggie took wing. "Let's go."
With his long-legged stride, he set a brisk pace, aiming for the red splotch on the horizon that had to be the singular mountain she'd seen in the holo-image.
In single file, with Keriam in the middle and Eric in the lead, they set off toward the rising sun. Froggie quickly resumed his perch on Eric's shoulder, tucking his head under a leathery wing. The plains weren't flat, she discovered. The land actually dipped and swelled like a vast, frozen sea. Small, bloated plants with waving filaments broke the surface like fishermen in solitary clumps. Whatever those filaments meant to attract, Keriam hoped not to see.
Here and there, when the wind died, puffs of bilious yellow gas burst out of the ground like tiny stinking farts. Obviously, Purlea would never draw tourists in its present condition.
They stopped at mid-morning, then again at noon, to rest and eat. Beyond the ever-present dust devils and a few high clouds, nothing moved. It was easy to imagine they were alone on the planet, but she knew that Purlea teemed with Gawan-spawn. And soon, at dawn the next day, the city and its nearby Defense Base would be bombarded.
She felt a sudden upsurge of compassion for the dwellers here, the Gawan victims. And a deep concern that her biological father, if he still lived, might be harmed in the coming attack. Although he would never replace Don Norton in her heart, she had a deep-rooted need to see him, to try to rescue him. She looked up at the mountain, their destination. Their hope for victory.
The ancient volcano reared like a giant from the plains, wreathed with several wispy clouds over its jagged top. She placed her hand over her stomach, a fierce protective urge bubbling up in her throat. A moment later, reality set in and regret bloomed for the unformed life sheltered inside her. The poor thing might never have a chance to live, to be born. Everything depended on the outcome of their mission. Automatically, she looked at Eric. If anyone could pull this off, he could. She'd never known anyone with his stolid determination.
They reached the mountain just as dusk began to settle over the broad plains. Eric led them toward a series of broad terraces cut into the almost sheer sides and began to climb. She paused and looked back. In the distance, rising slowly, a low mist hugged the rocky, barren soil.
"Don't dawdle, Keriam." His light touch on her shoulder sent warm tingles through her body. She didn't want to respond to his touch, not at all, but there seemed little she could do to stop it. Their destination, a narrow slit concealed within one of the vertical crevices, came into view. Eric squeezed inside then stepped out, kicking dirt from the ledge. He darted a look at her, then said, "We'll rest here, then continue."
These kinds of images are what filters through my mind when I’m not totally focused on something else. I see a photo, I begin developing a story behind it. I hear a sound, I create a strange and wonderful source for it. My imagination runs rings around me, day and night, shouting with glee as it springs yet another story idea at me.
Mrs Moore probably had no idea that she would be creating a ‘monster’ when she gave us that magic tunnel writing assignment. But I have to be grateful to her for giving me the idea that my ‘day dreams’ can be written as stories for others to enjoy.
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Great News! If you buy Heartstone through the Mundania site, you can use the code LSCOTT10 at checkout and receive a 10% discount on your total purchase.
http://www.mundania.com/book.php?title=Heartstone

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240 pages
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978-1-60659-233-5
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Eric d'Ebrur is out of time. He must find the legendary Heartstone and fulfill the ancient Gar'Ja bond he shares with the Stonebearer. But when he finds her, he discovers that love can be more dangerous than the Gawan threat. Eric can defeat the mind-controlling Gawan but will it cost him the woman he loves?
After terrifying episodes of hypersensitivity, Keriam Norton thinks she's losing her mind. When handsome shapeshifter Eric d'Ebrur saves her from the monstrous Gawan, she's sure of it. But insane or not, she'll find the Heartstone and, if she's lucky, a love to last a lifetime.
Heartstone is also available on Amazon.com if you prefer (but there’s no discount there)
http://www.amazon.com/Heartstone-Lynda-K-Scott/dp/1606592335/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1281979082&sr=1-1
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