On Writing & Publishing by Robin D. Owens

Personal notes on writing techniques, writing a novel, my writing career and threading your way through publishing a book.

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Location: Denver, United States

RITA Award Winning Author -- that's like the Oscar, folks! Futuristic/Fantasy Romance and Fantasy with Romantic Subplots.

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Thursday, December 18, 2014

Interview on USA Today Online & Cut from Heart Fire

So thrilled! http://www.usatoday.com/story/happyeverafter/2014/12/18/scifi-encounters-veronica-scott-heart-fire-robin-owens/20547251/

And here is Celta Thursday, a bit cut from the scene where Tiana is regressed to the firebombing of her house.

Garrett's jaw tightened, then he said, "What was the noise?"

"I don't know you. Who are you? Are there people inside, too?"

Another scream tore from her, a girl's scream.

"Easy. I'm just here to help," Garrett said. "I love you like a bro–, like an uncle."

"My uncles don't love me."

"What's going on?"

"Someone threw something in the window while we were all reading! It broke the window, there's glass all over. It went boom and there was fiiirree! Papa is putting out the fire but some of it hit Artemisia and hit her head and cut her and burnt her hair! Mama is helping Artemisia Heal!" Panting. "There's more, more, more! I can hear them exploding in other rooms, here on the ground floor, in the ResidenceDen! Will it hurt the books?!

She coughed, then continued, "Papa's running from room to room.. And a lot of people outside, screaming . Why would they be screaming and throwing fire at us?" She shuddered.

"You're looking out the windows, yes?"

"Yes," girl's voice pitched even higher with tension, with fear. "Artemisia is hiding under the desk, but I can't. I can't. I have to see who would hate us so that they threw a firebomb in our house. Who?"

"And you can see faces."


"Which room are you in?"

"The ResidenceDen in back. I think they are all around the house. I need to check everywhere!"

"Tiana, can you stay calm for now, please?"

A whimper. Antenn sat, his fists tight, his knuckles white. He hated listening to this.


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