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, October 25, 2018

Avellana's Story Part 5:

Avellana Story part 5: Then Avellana and Muin proceeded through the cathedral until they both stepped out into the large area of the intersection of the cross arms. Their gazes met and they watched each other until they reached the center altar. Muin moved with muscular grace, and was *hers.*

Her hands rose to clasp with his at the same instant as his reached for hers.

She met his eyes and noticed a line had sketched above his nose. She had to banish it, so she let what she felt flow through her— more carefree than ever in her life— and she grinned, sending effervescent joy down their bond, urged him to accept that and let it cycle through him so he could return it to her.
Keeping her gaze locked on his, she said, “No worries. Our future together is brilliant.”

He hesitated, his lips curving slightly, then repeated, “Our future together is brilliant.”

Pulling her hands from his, she threw herself into his arms. “We’ll meet the future together.”

“Yes.” He kissed her and as their mouths merged, she sensed the dazzle of visions swirling through her brain, and, for her, they all sparkled. She laughed into his mouth and he broke the kiss to look into her eyes and laugh with her.

He shook his head. “Sparkling visions. I haven’t had such.”

She hugged him tightly. “Stick with me.”

“I always have and always will.”

She tried to shake him, but he didn’t move much, strong and solid Muin. “I love you, HeartMate.”

“My love and my HeartMate.” He closed his eyes but his lashes dampened. “Finally. I love you, Avellana.”

He hadn’t opened his eyes. She sank against him, yet felt the colorful swirl of Flair and visions through him. Something tickled…

Saturday, October 20, 2018

Avellana's Story Part 4

Simply stepping into the sacred space of the cathedral of the Interection of Hope, the Hopefulls, *her* faith,soothed her . . . and finally dried up the tears that had lodged uncomfortably at the bottom of her throat since the violent events of the morning.

Like at the labyrinth, she stood a moment to settle her thoughts before reciting the opening prayer and moving in meditation.

All through the years she had only been herself.

Some people, and some Vines, could not accept who she was, her innate psi powers, Flair. They could not reconcile her with what they believed their religion to be.

She was as she had been created, and what accident and luck had formed her into. But she loved her Fams and her Families — the Hazels and the Vines — and her dearest Muin.

She would proceed as a whole person, and thank the Guardian Spirit for all the protection the entity had blessed her with lately, and think on how to be a guardian of the Vine Family herself.

So when Avellana heard Muin’s first steps, she murmured the opening prayer, then walked through the silence empty of voices but pulsing with emotions and layered with serene reverence.

And her pace matched her HeartMate’s.

They walked toward the center — him from the arm of the innocent child, her as Guardian Spirit, at right angles to each other. Not seeing the beloved, but knowing they moved toward each other as they always had.

Thursday, October 18, 2018

Avellana Story Part 3:

“I think I am most in need of energy from Custos, the Guardian Spirit today.” She turned in Muin’s arms and hugged him. “We were very blessed today, to have survived.” Her throat tightened with tears and she cleared it. “So I wish to thank the Guardian Spirit and renew my faith in it.”

“I understand.” Muin let her go, then ran a hand down her head, a tender smile on his lips. “I think I have been a responsible adult for...a very long time, lately. I will take the path of the Innocent Child and meet you in the center of the cathedral.”

Avellana nodded. She glanced around. “No gliders or public carriers are here, so there are no tourists, and the daily services took place two septhours ago. I believe only one Chief Minister is inside, probably working in an office.”

He lifted her hand and kissed her fingers, and that tender smile turned into one he saved only for her, and she could return it, feeling the love for him showing in her eyes, perhaps radiating from her whole being.

With an inclination of his body, GreatLord to GreatLady, he withdrew his hand, then turned and strode to the southwest entrance to the cathedral, as she walked to the southeast.

The large wooden double doors swung open as she neared, since she belonged to the faith. Muin would have to use spell or muscle to open his doors.
Though less than two years old, the cathedral already held an enveloping peace and spirituality that resonated wtih her.

Tuesday, October 16, 2018

Story: Avellana S.... (serial)

New Celta partial-story posting here, starting today....I'd planned on doing this every day I was away but the trip (and afterwards) turned out to be challenging. I cut the last couple of scenes of Heart Sight. When I rework the story I'm posting now, I'll work on WHEN I want to set it. (And I know the first line set-up is clunky, but I want to get this going): Avellana S(....): After the Loyalty Ceremony as D’Vine and T’Vine, as soon as she had acknowledged each and every Vine, hopefully committed their name and vocation to her memory, Muin whisked her away without another word to his public round tower, through that to his tall and completely personal rectangular tower.

And once she reached there, she put her hands over her face. “I . . . I can not.”

He set his arms around her loosely, supporting, not constraining. “Can’t stay here?”


“Where do you want to go? Multiplicity?”

Before she could answer, the sonorous voice of T’Vine Residence, the huge castle, rolled through the chamber where they stood. “I can reopen the Hopeful Chapel.”

Muin gasped, a surprised squeal escaped Avellana. Her hand shot toward Muin’s so they could twine fingers. They did and they squeezed and hung on tightly to each other.

“I had no idea we had a Hopeful Chapel,” Muin said.

“Our founders constructed a total of four chapels reflecting the religions at that time, including one dedicated to the Intersection of Hope.” A pause. “But it has never been used. It is in the wing to the north, on the second floor, adjacent to the north round tower.”

“I am humbled and grateful,” Avellana said, let those feelings flow from her through the bonds to the Vine Family and the Residence. “But I would prefer the consecration of the chapel to be renewed by my current Chief Ministers.” She inhaled, let her breath wisp out. “I . . . yearn . . . to visit the cathedral.”

“Now?” Muin asked..


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