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, January 31, 2019

Celta Thursday, Script of the Heart unused scene

Warning: Not sure where I was going with this, so it may lead to unanswerable questions. I do know that it takes place after Johns visited the Daisy's Summerhouse and "argued" with Giniana.

Laughter from the FamCat Thrisca rolled down their more open bond, along with, **Come, here!** She sent him a black and white visual of Giniana’s back garden.

He didn’t think he’d trust that FamCat.

But he did teleport to the outer gate of T’Spindles. “Greetyou SpindleGuard**,” he addressed the man in the guardhouse.

The older, heavily boned man pursed his lips. “Greetyou MasterLevel Actor St. Johnswort.” His body language showed Johns all too clearly that the guard believed he’d hurt Giniana.

Translocating some tickets from his cache at the theater, Johns bowed, offered a crooked smile along with the tickets in his hand. “Here’s a pair of tickets to Firewalker. It’s closing at the end of the month.” He cleared his throat. “I’m here to visit FamCat Thrisca.”

“Ha.” A bark of a laugh, but the guy stepped out of the elegant small guardhouse box to take the tickets. “Thanks, St. Johnswort.”

“You’re welcome.”

At the sound of a long cough, they both turned to see Thrisca FamCat behind the curliques of the greeniron gate. The guard waved his hand and the tall gates swung silently open.

**Thank you for allowing My guest to visit Me,** Thrisca stated politely on a communal telepathic channel. **Giniana and I will be leaving shortly by glider.**

**What?** Johns demanded of the FamCat privately. **Whose glider? Where?**

She simply turned her skinny body and walked down the path toward Giniana’s cottage.

Thursday, January 24, 2019

Script of the Heart Cut

Script of the Heart Cut:
This is a rough draft of a scene I’d planned between Johns and Del D’Elecampane (heroine of Heart Journey), some of this passage DID make it into the book, but I ended up not writing a scene at the Garden Party that I’d originally contemplated.
Date: 27th-32 of Vine
His perscry rang…his standard tune for unknown callers. He picked it up (from where?) and rubbed his thumb on it. Del Elecampane’s narrow face sprang into holographic view, her blond hair springing in cheerful contrast to her serious expression and a line between her brows.

“Greetyou, Johns. I’d like to meet with you.”

Absolutely no flirting on either of their parts. Seeing her and Raz Cherry together yesterday at breakfast at the Thespian Club had clued him in that the pair were lovers. Even more, though Raz hadn’t seemed to know this, they were HeartMates.

But he liked her, a solid, honest woman, so he gifted her with his best smile.

She didn’t seem to notice, which made him grin. “What can I do for you?”

“You’re interested in this play by Amberose.”

“That’s right,” he said cautiously.

“New, important play that can make careers?” she asked, then murmured. “I like her work as long as she doesn’t do deep drama and angst.”

“I’ve heard the script described as a romantic suspense,” he paused, then added. “With the villains caught and happy endings all around.”

“Two romantic couples. And the leading lady someone like Lily Fescue,” Del repeated what Johns had told her the morning before.

“Yeah, but as I said, Amberose is demanding artistic control at the moment and no standard producer will do the show with such strings attached.”

Spacing her words, Del asked, “Do you know where I might find Amberose’s agent?”

A spark of hope firerocketed through Johns. “Formal or informal setting?”

Her head tilted. “I think, informal?” Another question as if she asked his advice on a meeting.

“Sounds good.” Johns culled through all the gossip he’d heard in the last day. “Pretty sure Amberose’s new agent will be at a garden party this afternoon.” He pulled up his calendarsphere, he’d been invited, and reeled off the information to Del.

“Many thanks, later” she signed off.

He’d heard the gossip about the mapmaker, friends of one of the FirstFamilies, connected to them by Family somehow. And very, very wealthy in her own right. And she was Raz’s HeartMate…
Johns didn’t know much about HeartMates. He didn’t have one, though he couldn’t imagine loving any woman more than he did Giniana, of bonding with anyone closer.
He met with Del that evening?** [one of the mornings after she and Raz had returned from Gael City]. Always confident, wearing her manner of knowledge that she was the best mapmaker on Celta, she still moved differently. She glowed with an inner fire

She’d be changing her life on the road to compromise with Raz. She wanted to give him what he wanted,

Friday, January 04, 2019

Cut from Heart Journey that became Script of the Heart (published Oct 27, 2018)

Since this is a cut from Heart Journy, it is in Raz's point of view, and I thought to include a secondary romance between Johns and the Healer, then figured I had enough subplots, so it became the basis of Script of the Heart:
"Want to quiet that glider alarm down?" rumbled Cratag Marigold as he strode over, hand on his blazer hilt as he scanned the trees.

"Alarm stop, Cherry," Raz said, then looked to Cratag. "The thieves got away."

There was a quiet woman's sob – not from his glider. "Oh, my poor baby, I didn't shield you and look what happened, your jeweled timer, stolen!"

"This is a bad thing." T'Spindle, their hose, a short, rotund man, said. People cleared the way for him. "Healer needed here!" he shouted, making both Raz and Johns wince.

"Getting my bag!" answered a voice from the direction of the Residence. Obviously the Spindles had a Healer on staff.

"This is a very bad thing," GrandLord Spindle repeated, eyes hard, reminding Raz that the man was of the FirstFamilies and used to playing dangerous politics. Raz's anger eased at the thought that the thieves would truly regret this night. Spindle was easygoing, but he was stubborn and no doubt would make sure the guards on this case were equally stubborn about solving it. Of course Spindle would look at his enemies first.

A large hand curved under Raz's elbow. "Let me help you up," Cratag said quietly, lifted Raz to his feet with ease. The warrior narrowed his eyes. "Looks to me like you need more than stage fighting instruction."

That stung as much as Raz's wounds. He opened his mouth to say something and his lip split. He swore under his breath. "Maybe you're right." He nodded to Cratag as the man stepped away. "I'll think about it."

A lovely young woman rushed close, a Healer's bag in her hand. Johns groaned. She went to him, her hands swept over his chest. She frowned. "I don't sense anything wrong with your lungs."
Johns sat up, smiled crookedly at her. "Just bruises." He tilted his head toward Raz. "You should see to Raz. The three of them got the worse of him."

"Three!" she exclaimed. Her hands continued to stroke Johns, easing his bruises, as he rose to his feet.

"Thanks, Johns," Raz muttered, wincing as his mouth stung again.

"Anything I can do." Johns bowed as the Healer looked on admiringly. Then he glanced at Raz's glider, Cherry, grimaced and shook his head. "That was a real pretty glider, Raz."

The Healer had finally reached Raz. "Broken cheekbone, bad bruise on the temple..." she pressed on his ribs and he yelped. "I think you should come inside where I can treat you." Her voice held the faintest hint of glee, as if her job with the Spindles was pretty boring.

"I'll help him along." Johns was there, crowding a raised-eyebrow Cratag aside and wrapping his equally brawny arm around Raz's shoulders. They hurt, too. Everything hurt.
"That's so kind of you." The Healer smiled approval.

"Let's get you going, friend." Johns tightened his grip.

Raz hissed out a breath, but followed along, fairly steady on his feet, though he felt a little light-headed. He limped. He might have broken some toes. His hands weren't feeling good, either.
Johns actually shortened his stride and slowed his steps. "Thanks, Johns," Raz said. This time he meant it.

"'Welcome. Sorry about you and your glider."

Raz knew that was true. Johns had been open in his envy at Cherry.

"Tell you what," Raz said as they took the steps slowly. "Why don't I ask my father to get another sportcoupe at cost, sell it to you for the same price."

Johns eyes gleamed. "In blue?"

"The same color as your eyes," Raz agreed as they angled through a door to a sitting room that was furnished in a masculine fashion where blood and grime wouldn't show – much.

"Done," Johns said.

But Raz had a nasty feeling that things had just begun....

The Healer bustled in, ordering others to provide hot water, softleaves...She was small and voluptuous with bright red hair and a smattering of freckles. Johns watched her every move. Raz closed his eyes and wished Del was there.

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