To writers the world wide, November can mean only one thing - National Novel Writing Month. The full name is a little misleading now, of course, for it's a concept that's caught fire and hooked the imaginations of aspiring novelists far outside of America. Nonetheless, I've been eagerly awaiting November 1st since the spark of this story first came to me in a hot summer night's dream.
Triumvirate is the first book of a trilogy (books 2 and 3 have the working titles of 'Descent' and 'Redemption'). It's a darkly paranormal romance, winding its way through Eastern European mythology towards the fires of Hell itself, and it's been absolutely consuming me since I started writing it; providing a very welcome relief from all the dramas of real-life.
With my eternal companions of coffee, cigarettes, Tom Waits and Butch Walker, 26,000 words of the required 50,000 are already down on the page - of course, I anticipate Triumvirate will be something in the 75-80k region when it's a complete working draft, but it's gratifying nonetheless to be more than halfway towards the target already.
Indulge me in sharing with you a little teaser from Chapter One...
Fighting the urge to arch her back and revel in his sinfully pleasurable touch as his fingers soothed away the tension in her stiffly held neck, Alex nodded and forced her face to harden. “I still don’t know how you know my names. Clever words mean nothing to me - I want the damned truth.”
“The damned truth? So be it then, Alex. We know your names, as do all those who reside in Hell, because we witnessed your conception and birth. Your father named you at the moment of your birth and your mother’s death; and your name has been sung by the demons of Hell ever since.”
Ignoring the impossible for the moment, for Vazaroth’s talk of Hell could be nothing but that, Alex’s eyes narrowed in disbelief. “Brendan? He didn’t name me - he and Grandfather told me that my mother chose my names.”
“That is a lie that your grandfather propagated; and Alex, your father is not Brendan Byrne -”
“Don’t be ridiculous!”
“Ridiculous?!” A darkening storm of rage descended upon Vazaroth’s face, sending another shiver of ice shards through Alex’s veins. “Alex, I am many things, but I am not ridiculous; you will not speak to me so! As I was saying; your father is as we are, and his name is Deures -”
“Please, stop!” Alex pulled away from him as his fist tightened around her shirt, threatening to rip it open. Afraid of the forceful compulsion that had arisen in her to aid him in his obvious intentions, she choked back a loud sob. “I don’t understand! Who - what are you?!”
Her low, fearful moan seemed to give them pain, for their faces seemed to contort in unison before Rauzel drew a deep breath and spoke. “We are incubi, demons from the realm of Hell - and we have come to claim that which is ours.”
You can find me on the NaNoWriMo site - Kate Monroe - and I'd love to hear from you all either there or here to find out what you're writing and how easily (or not!) the words are flowing.
Kate x
PS. I was ill over Halloween (not an over-indulgence of red wine and chocolates, I swear!) so I shamefully neglected to make any mention of the fact that 'Kiss Of An Angel' is out now to buy on Amazon and Smashwords, nor to thank the awesome Amelia James for hosting me on her blog during the week of release. Go and check them both out! ;p
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