Friday, August 17, 2012
Posted by Liane Gentry Skye
Serial novels. Love or hate them for their cliffhanger endings, they're hot. Lucky for me, the thrill of anticipation is the equivalent of literary foreplay, and I can't get enough.
For those of you new to the format, a serial novel is an ongoing story written and released in "episodic" format. The medium isn't new--Charles Dickens' A Tale of Two Cities was released in serial format via magazines. The popularity of comic books and manga has honed reader lust for ongoing narratives. Modern release mechanisms vary, but until recently, blogs and social media have provided the most common distribution outlets.
Thanks to the ease, popularity, and profitability of e-publishing and indie publishing, serials stand a good chance of providing authors with regular paychecks. Maybe that's why for writers, they've become the literary equivalent of the new black. Turning a serial novel into a regularly paying outlet is easier than ever before. Imagine publishing your novel as you write it, and building a paying audience for it at the same time!
Still, none of the above fully explains why I've ventured into serial novels as my new storytelling format. Thanks to my background in theatre and ballet, I'm an audience whore. I don't write for the thrill of spilling my soul onto the page. I write to create an emotional reaction in my readers. My muse is a true performance artist, she'll stop at nothing for a chance to pimp her wares for feedback.
The genre also appeals to my very real ADHD. I like knowing before I chain my flighty arse to an 80,000 word tome that I've got my readers where I want them...in the palm of my hand and begging for more. The promise of a regular episode by episode paycheck doesn't hurt, either. :)
Within the next three weeks, and with the help of my friends at Sanibel Moon Books, I'll be debuting the fist monthly episode of my paranormal erotic serial, Night Shift. Think Gray's Anatomy meets Supernatural. :) Hope you enjoy this little sip of my world...
Any doctor knows it's hard to practice medicine without playing God. Surgeons struggle every day to hold onto their humanity. Why let a rapist have a donor heart when a nun still waits? Why should an unborn child die so it's crack whore mother can live? For those of us assigned to the night shift at Mercy Grace, not a problem. Our jobs are more than how we make our living. It's how we eat. Literally.
My name is Destiny Ware and I am a succubus. Whether my patients live or die is all about the moral triage, but trust me when I say my victims die satisfied with my services and begging for more...
EXCERPT; Episode 1; Destiny's Choice:
Jacob Marley was at least partly right when he said the dead wear the chains they forge in life. But to say I forged mine through an act free will? That's where I call bullshit.
I press my palms to the static veil that separates Edgeplace from the world I departed when I pressed a Glock to a surgeon's temple,insuring my daughter wouldn't be denied the kidney she'd die without. That act, coupled with my yearning for the life my feat rendered impossible, put me in an unmarked grave, then transformed me into what I am. A succubus, damned to hunger forever for her soul’s completion.
It could have been worse. I could have been hurled back into the world untrained, undisciplined, and randomly feeding on mortals alongside the rest of the paranormals. Disgusting, yes, but a succubus still has to eat. Souls, that is.
Lucky for mankind, and under the Archangel Gabriel’s guidance, I have learned control my hunger and feed only on the bad guys. Trust me when say there are plenty to go around.
A roaring downpour conceals my view of the city on the far side of the veil. The tumult is typical for Savannah on a late summer's afternoon. I know because this is the city I once called home. Why Gabriel chose to send me back here, to the scene of my crime is beyond me, but at least the storm will provide ample cover for my crossing.
The steam rising from the sun-baked cobblestones that pave the tourist trap known as River Street is an added bonus. Visibility is nil. If I slip into the mortal realm only to fall on my ass beneath unaccustomed weight of my own flesh, nobody will notice I materialized out of nowhere. They'll be too busy ducking into the nearest bar for cover. If I ever muster the nerve to cross over, I may just join them. Already memory torments my tongue with the numbing venom provided by a nice, stiff shot.
"Will you miss me?" a rough voice behind me purrs. The large hands that grip my shoulders are ungloved. A calloused fingertip maps a tingling trail from my nape to the small of my back. The chastity chain that marks me as one of his pulls tight against my sensitive flesh. Standing this close to the veil, I am a nearly as corporeal and hypersensitive to sensation as I will be on the other side. Gabriel damn well knows it, too.
A low chuckle vibrates in his throat as he paints the crevice of my ass with flame. He stands so close behind me that instinct drives me to push back into his radiant heat. My teacher has come to me more than ungloved. He is also naked. The turgid rod pressing into the small of my back proves him ready to get his freak on.
If I expect to earn absolution, to someday be recognized and invited by my daughter into paradise, I must show I have overcome the yearnings of the flesh. His finger presses between my cheeks to rim the puckered ring within. “Do you want me?”
Duh.I sink a tooth into my lower lip, squelching the urge to cast a glance over my shoulder. It doesn't matter that those graveled timbres, that searing heat that brands me from ass to waist, causes my entire being to vibrate with yearning. To behold an angel in the flesh would scorch my unclean soul into oblivion.
Fend off an angel’s lust, save the world. I can't help but laugh. My afterdeath has turned into a bad TV serial. My mentor may be the right arm of Creator, but he’s still very much male. His world view is filtered through his dick and he can't wrap his divine brain around the fact that cock didn’t get got me into this predicament.
Love did."Unhand me,angel."
His sigh is almost wistful as he nudges me toward the veil. I dig my feet in, preventing my fall. "What if I see her?"
"You'll duck into the Edgeplace until she passes."
"And if I can't?"
“I already know you you can.”
"Care to enlighten me?"
His kiss is fire on the nape of my neck. “You just denied an angel.”
at 8:22 AM