WeWriWa: Where Is This Plotline Going?

My office cat editor asks a good question. I’m working through PRINCE OF POWER, the second book in my House of Terriot Foursome shape-shifter series and in this second book, unlike the first book PRINCE OF HONOR, I didn’t start on page one and write straight through as I usually do. Why? Because I stopped part way in because I realized I had to write PoH first. So, what to do with all those random scenes that bombarded me on my drive to work? I wrote them down the second I got into the office, of course, and saved them to use when I returned to that now second book. Here’s one such scene for today’s 8-10 line sneak peek:

The ride up to their family compound in a hired limo was mostly silent as the three of them sat lost in their own thoughts of what they’d left and what they were returning to. In New Orleans, they’d been visitors, out of place and carefully watched, but when the gates swung open to invite them back inside the walls they’d protected for generations, they were suddenly more.

They were princes, clan rock stars, envied, feared, desired, and each of them felt the pressure that came with the precious stones in their ears, because with power, came responsibility and a certain cautious distance they’d briefly shrugged off in anonymity. 

Colin stood in the doorway to his room, confused by his hesitation to cross the threshold. Like several of his still single brothers, he’d had a wall knocked out to increase his space, allowing for a massive closet, a king bed that had seen more traffic than most national monuments, and a huge sound system housing his collection of ‘70s and ‘80s rock. It held all his adult memories, a place he’d used to change his clothes and spend nights he rarely remembered . . . or cared to. Upon entering the carefully regimented space, there was no sense of welcome. All he felt was alone. 

While he quickly stowed his travel kit and traded up from his rumpled attire to meet with his king and fellow princes, a deep down realization stirred uneasily inside.

He wasn’t glad to be back.

Sounds easy taking all those scenes and linking them together. But when I began, I remembered why I never finished any of the dozens of stories stashed away in my closet. It’s like having ingredients with no recipe! Which goes first? When does this get added in? Of course, back then I wrote long hand into a notebook and didn’t have the luxury of cut and paste.

It’s coming along, but will definitely need some filler and smoothing once I’m “done.” Back to it.

How are things fitting together for you this weekend?

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