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, February 25, 2016

Celta Thursday, Heart Fire Cut, Tiana and the Turquoise House

Celta Thursday, Heart Fire Cut, Tiana and the Turquoise House:

"Turquoise House, I will need a meditation room, as soon as possible, can you direct me to an appropriate chamber?"
"I have prepared one for you, dear Priestess," said the House. "Down the right, the last door on the left. The windows face the back gardens."

"Thank you."

She walked through the sparsely furnished entry room and reached the hallway running the length of the house and turned right. A stray wisp of wondering where her sister had worked and her brother-in-law had suffered crossed her mind, but she said nothing aloud. Their time here was over and she was sure that Garrett wouldn't care to ever see the place again.

Of course the whole house had been sterilized since then. The hallway was wide enough for two normal sized people and she went to the door, pressed the latch, and opened it on a pale peach gem of a room. The wall of the room facing the grassyard was a window of medium square glass panes. Currently they were tinted smoky gray, blocking light and fogging her vision. Fine.

In the room were two simple black comfort chair-lounges, of some sort of woven material, like one might see outside on a terrace. Still, they appeared top of the line. But she only needed one. She went to one and folded it up, set it against the wall with the door that would be behind her.

"Please lock the door, Turquoise House and notify me if anyone wants inside this room. Please hold all but urgent calls from my Family or GreatCircle Temple."

"Done!" he caroled.

"Thank you." She eyed the comfort lounge – a piece of furniture that would conform to her body – dubiously, as she was accustomed to meditating as she sat. But the wooden plank floor was bare with no large pillows in sight. "We will have to order some big pillows, and for more than this room." She and her two friends loved such cushions.

"Wonderful!" said the Turquoise House. "Varying patterns and textures..." He hummed quietly to himself.

She angled the chair toward the windows, the foot part raised, the upper part one level down from upright. Tentatively, she moved onto the piece of furniture. It was unexpectedly solid for such a light frame and mesh, and the minute she leaned back, she felt the spell take hold and curve into support of her back, along her ankles and legs, around her derriere. A sigh escaped her.

Arms rose the exact amount for comfort and she grinned. Her very own comfort chair, as pillowy softness seemed to cradle her neck and head she knew she'd enjoy living here, even for a short while. Perhaps she might make enough to purchase a chair like this...or even this one, since when she left it would be well-used and maybe she could get it at a discount.

Then she regulated her breathing and began descending into a meditative state. She sank deep, deeper, deepest into a trance, letting her cares, the anxiety at this project, the nagging sense of foreboding, fall away as if they were blocks of stone tied to her body and the ropes frayed and broke.

And as she found her still center, she pulsed in the blissful moment of being one with the flow of the world. No thought but feeling infused her...the ancient, slow gong from the core of the planet of Celta itself, with an odd hollowness in the rising note beneath her. The slow warming and awakening in the soil around her, bulbs about to stretch sturdy shoots upward, the push from roots to grow. Then she felt the House itself and smiled. She swore the air around her fizzed with rainbow evanescence...and she, too, was rising in her mind, spending shorter in that time-without-time than she wanted, but she accepted reluctantly that this session was over.

"FirstLevel Priestess, FirstLevel Architect Antenn Moss Blackthorn is outside the door and ready to knock," the House said.

"Call me Tiana." When she used her voice again it was a breathy sigh. She couldn't care. "And, please, let him in."

She heard the door open in a fast shove and lifted her lashes to see Antenn stride in, an intense expression on his face. **There you are. You're mine.** The thought sliced through her drifting thoughts like lightning through mist. She shook her head to clear it, and her whole body tensed to suppress a surge of shocking heat that tingled all her nerves.


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