Monthly Archives: September 2025

Over the past five years, I’ve somewhat evolved a writing process that really worked for me, using Scrivener and Word together. Scrivener was where I put my worldbuilding details. Character notes. Oddball stuff like any weirdnesses about time, including timelines for the stories where timing was crucial. Synopsis. Anything that I needed to know about the backstory, all in one place, with easy access for reference purposes.

At the same time, I would draft a chapter in Word, with Scrivener open to let me refer back to the synopsis, or any other worldbuilding details—mainly because certain formatting things are easier for me to do in Word. As I finished each chapter, I pasted it in Scrivener, because I found it so much easier to look something up in an individual chapter rather than scroll through a full manuscript or open multiple documents to find a niggling continuity detail—or fix a continuity detail that became problematic later on in the story. I also devised methods for updating the synopsis as the characters changed and evolved, documenting the whole process. Oh yeah, I had it together. Really together. Not just for the Martinieres but for a couple of standalone books plus a couple of novellas.

Then 2025 happened.

I had finished the final work in what I had started calling the Martiniere Multiversal Family Saga. There wasn’t anything else I wanted to write in that world (after twelve books). Along with that also came the need to spend time not writing because we had a major project happening elsewhere. Plus, I needed to do something to revive interest in my backlist books. I spent time writing up some essays about my stories and…well, thinking about the next project.

Problem was, what I was facing for the next project was…something I had been poking at for five years (the Martinieres as well as several other writing projects between 2020-2025 kept me from having to deal with That. Damned. Project). I looked at other ideas and…none of them were adequately fleshed out to be ready to write. Either they required more work than the Damned Project or…they needed to cook for longer.

Sigh. The work in question is a followup series to my high fantasy series Goddess’s Honor, set in the world of the Seven Crowned Gods. I’d poked at the notion for five years, because while I had wrapped up the major threads of the Goddess’s Honor series arcs, there were still…things left dangling. I had intended to get back to the followup series but…it was a mess.

Yes, the Big Bad Emperor was dead. The hero(ine) who killed him in a magical duel (spoiler: he cheated first), also died but was raised up to be a Goddess. The fated hero(ine) became Empress. Meanwhile, in the new Empress’s homeland over the ocean, the Empress’s mother had defeated another Big Bad.

All well and good, except…it was clear within the story that the Empire was a mess. The Emperor had been covering up a lot of problems and they all showed up at his death. Over the ocean, that particular Big Bad showed signs of being defeated for now, but lurked as a potential problem.

I had written a few chapters. So once I was finished with the Martinieres, I blew the dust off, did some revisions, and…reached the 30k word mark, whereupon I realized that nope, what I was writing was more exposition than storytelling. I was facing the infamous “muddle in the middle,” plus…it just wasn’t falling together.

After the ease of writing the Martinieres, this was absolutely frustrating. I’d also started the story too late. Deep breath. Instead of that lovely writing process I had been using for the past five years, I needed to go back and rip everything apart. Expand events that I’d just mentioned as asides into scenes. Damnit.

And life just kept yanking me away from writing, so that I couldn’t give this book the concentration it needed.

Then I ended up with a nice cover for a previously released book from 2018 that I wanted to overhaul for various reasons. The process for doing that revision dragged me back into working exclusively in Word.

I didn’t like that. Especially since I’d gotten used to my combined Scrivener/Word system. Nonetheless, despite everything, I got it put back together, adding about 24k words to what was originally a 62k story. Filled in a few holes, added more material at the beginning, then completely rewrote the ending as well as setting it up for sequels. Klone’s Stronghold: Reeni, is a much stronger book than the original (if you want to check it out, it’s available at https://books2read.com/klonesstrongholdreeni).

But then it was back to the fantasy project. The more I hacked at it, the more I realized that the material I had originally considered sufficient for one book is…more like two books. There were conflicts I needed to expand upon, especially since my original concept was for a trilogy—and I couldn’t figure out where on earth the material for the next two books would come from.

I lacked subplots and subarcs.

Well, it was time to do the pantser thing. I had 30k, and too much of it brushed over what I had originally dismissed as not important to the main story. I’d made a big mistake.

So I returned to carefully expanding the story. But something happened as I worked. The stubborn, evasive story started coming to life. More backstory started hollering at me. Before I knew it, all the revisions expanded that initial 30k to 50k. I had a credible early arc, along with development of deeper themes and richer characters.

I’m now at the point where I can start ripping apart the synopsis for this fantasy novel and revising it. Back on track for my original methodology—once that synopsis is written. But at least I’m back on familiar territory, with a method that works for me. And I figured out the problem 30k into the book, rather than falling apart later. Definitely an improvement from my earlier writing days. Both books are stronger, thanks to those revisions. But it’s taken me…several decades of off and on writing to get to this point.

The lesson, of course, is that no one writing process is carved in stone. Different books will require variations in the process. I’ve been known to develop extensive and detailed scene matrices, but that won’t be necessary for this trilogy. The key is remaining flexible, and meeting the needs of whatever the story requires.

Sometimes those needs require a more structured process. Other times…a more flexible process. After twenty-four books, I’m still learning lessons about drafting my stories and—each book is a different lesson.

Which is as it should be. A good writer should never stop learning.

When you commit to owning a horse for their whole life, you know that there’s going to be That Day happening at some point.

Sometimes That Day is a day early, sometimes it’s a day late.

And sometimes That Day just happens Right Now. Not when you want it, not when you’ve planned, but…it just slaps you hard, right in the face, that this has to be The Day.

That day was yesterday for the horse of my heart, Miss Olena Chic (Mocha), who I had owned for twenty years. I had already discussed the need to put her down this fall because she just wasn’t going to do well in the coming winter. Held that discussion with the vet, the ranch owners, and my husband. We’d agreed that she would have one last good summer (hopefully), eating grass, hanging out in one of her favorite fields, having time with Her Gelding, getting lots of treats and being loved on. Which was happening.

I knew things were going downhill. The bone spurs on her problematic right knee were starting to make the cannon bone (big bone between the knee and hoof in a horse’s foreleg) twist noticeably this last week. But she was still getting around, and was even managing to canter-hobble when I called her for grain, treats, and attention (oh, was she ever holding her head high and proud those days when she figured out how to canter with that bad knee). Then it became a trot, then a walk, and then…yesterday.

She had taken to standing under a big willow in the front of the pasture she was in, especially if I was coming later than usual. So I wasn’t surprised by that, or by the nicker she gave me. But then…she didn’t come to her usual feeding spot. My heart sank because at that point I knew. I called her again, offered her an apple slice with the painkiller she’s been on for the last few months and…she could barely walk. Her legs quivered with the effort. I coaxed her over, gave her grain and treats, and called the husband because it was clear that something had happened over the last twenty-four hours. She had been walking fine the day before, hanging out with a whitetail doe and her fawns.

No signs of stress, like she had been running and strained something. Just a little sweaty under her heavy mane, which was normal for her on a hot summer’s day. I checked her water trough and she had been drinking from it. She was eating normally, acting normally, except…there were signs of a possible neurological issue.

You don’t call the vet for a last-ditch treatment for this. Not for an old mare that the vet has already shaken his head as he says “no more winters.” If you call the vet, it’s euthansia time.

I went to the ranch. Burst into tears when I told the ranch owner’s daughter and asked her for another pair of eyes in case I was wrong (she’s Miss Rodeo Oregon 2026 and is very experienced in her own right). Her parents were out of town but almost back. Dez eyed Mocha and agreed, calling her parents. Something bad had happened. Jeffrey dropped Vixen off when they got to town and…more consensus. We decided to try to get her on a trailer and back to the ranch. While Mocha’s never been that friendly with Vixen, she’s always loaded well for her and–no hesitation, no problems. Thankfully.

Then the discussion at the ranch. Today or tomorrow? Gunshot or vet visit tomorrow? Thankfully, I’d already had that discussion with Jeffrey because they’ve dealt with a lot of older horses who need to be put down. The recommendation was gunshot because sometimes the euthanasia meds don’t work as well with older horses, and they’ll fight them, making those last few minutes awful and fearful for the horse. Mocha was a tough old girl–and I feared that she would fight it. So no, no vet. Tonight, because it was cooler and we all feared given the rapid progress of her deteroration that she would go down and not be able to get up, making things more complicated. She was already in pain, why put her through more?

She was happily eating hay in the trailer. I gave her the last peppermints while Vixen quickly braided her tail and clipped the braids so I would have a keepsake. Then it was watching the trailer and backhoe go out to the back field, and stand with Marker, waiting for the end. All the horses on the ranch were fussing and anxious because they knew something was up. Marker called to Mocha when the trailer went out. Then he stood while I cried on his neck (I’d cried on Mocha’s neck in the trailer), nuzzling me and licking me.

We waited while Jeffrey dug the hole with the backhoe. Then the trailer headed back. Marker screamed and called as the trailer went by, fussing when there wasn’t an answer. Shortly after, the final shot.

She was a fine horse. I’ll write a little bit more about the twenty-five years I knew her at another time, because I had been around her from a foal, even though I didn’t buy her until she was five. I have a big collection of ribbons she won at various shows, and a belt buckle she won. I have one of her shoes, a portion of one tooth, and the braids. Plus tack–some of which has not been repurposed for Marker–and pictures. She had been bred to be a show horse and did pretty darn good at it.

But right now there are still tears and an empty spot in my heart.