Born To Be A Writer

My writing

This is a three book series my sister asked me to help her write. In fact, I'm the writer, she's the brains of this. Not quite, but she gets a lot of credit here. Almost every time I got writer's block, she got me out. When it wasn't her, it was my fiancé Sam.


I've been reading writer help books by author Orson Scott Card. Lately, I finished Characters and Viewpoints and it made me realise how much I was missing in my own books, especially the first Kreatoria book. So I've decided to rewrite it. Please be patient, the resulting book should be worth it :)

The Descendants

 Here's a small excerpt of the first book:

Aya goes from unconscious to conscious instantly. She experiences no grogginess as she looks at her surroundings. She is fully awake, fully alert and fully . . . confused. She sits up and frowns. She’s in her bedroom, in bed with her pyjama on. What the hell? Did she dream last night’s events? Was Tristan only a hallucination conjured by her sleep-deprived mind? She raises her hands to eye level and examines them carefully. She perceives nothing different about them. She turns them, palms towards the wall facing her and wills fire beams out of them. When nothing happens, she slowly clasps her hands together and lets them fall back to the lap. Head bowed, brows knotted in confusion, she thinks back to her dreams of the night. She remembers waking up, twice. Remembers the panic she felt knowing Tristan was heading for a trap. Although, at the time, she thought the Vampire had been the threat, not the smaller man. Though who’s to say they weren’t working together against Tristan? She can’t have made all that up, right? Even though she’d been raised with talk of prophecies and Gods, and loves to read, she doesn’t have a vivid imagination. She doesn’t think she could have made that up. So, what now? Still frowning, she gets up and heads for the bathroom. A good shower ought to clear her head.

After a good cleansing wash, she slips into jeans and a sweater and heads downstairs to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. Her parents are seated at the table, whispering to one another but immediately stop when they see her enter the kitchen. They smile at her warily.


“Good morning sweetheart”.

“Morning, Mom, Dad.” She pours herself a cup of coffee, adds sugar and milk, turns towards the table and freezes. Did she really want to sit with her parents this morning? How will they react to her?


Her mother opens her mouth, as if to say something, closes it and opens it again.


“So, did you notice anything different about yourself . . . since yesterday?”

“Different how?”

“Well, have you changed somehow? Did you sprout wings or a third eye? Did you chant spells or something?”


Aya stares at her mother as if it was she who had sprouted wings and a second head.


“Was that a joke, mom?”


Carrie laughs nervously and glances at her husband. Looking quite uncomfortable, Marc says:


“Aya, honey, we don’t mean to upset you, but you have to understand us. We never thought the legends we told you of, the prophecy we were forced to pass down, had any truth to it. We find ourselves quite unprepared to deal with this. We don’t know how to deal with this. This isn’t just something we can go see a doctor for, you know?”


Aya’s eyes narrow while her father speaks.


You don’t know how to deal with this? You feel unprepared for this? How do you suppose I feel?”


 Aya takes a deep, calming breath. Decides to be the adult and reassure her parents.


“Listen, maybe . . . maybe this is nothing. There was no life altering experiences from the moment we discovered my shifting birth mark until now.” She deliberately shoves the dream/hallucination  out of her mind. “Maybe there’s a logical explanation for the shifting. Maybe . . . maybe . . . Oh! I don’t know. Maybe this is a good thing, you know?”


She looks up to find her parents staring at her. She sighs. They don’t know what to say to her. Don’t know how to comfort their daughter. Don’t know whether she needs to be comforted.


“I’m going for a walk” Aya mutters.


Angels and Witches

This is the second. We're not sure if this title will remain or not. The book is in it's final stages and I have great hopes for it. Here's another excerpt.

The trio run up the stairs, to their bedrooms, to pack their belongings. Twenty-five minutes later, Becky drags her bags over to Aya’s room. Then she gasps. “I didn’t say goodbye to . . .”

“To whom?” Asks a deep male voice.

Becky turns in surprise. “Bart!”

“Was that an answer, or a statement?”
“Both.” Becky grins, looking up at Bart.

He curls his arm around her waist and pulls her out of the room, into the hallway, away from prying eyes. Aya watches them leave and grins to herself. She wonders how things will turn out between the two of them.

When Becky and Bart arrive in the hallway, she looks up at him expectantly.

“What?” He asks.
“Well, was there anything you wanted to tell me?”
“Uh, no. Not really. How about you?”
“I’m not the one that dragged you into the hallway, Bart. Surely you had something in mind.”

Actually, he does but he won’t act upon his thoughts.

“I just wanted to wish you safe trip.” He rakes his hand through his hair, obviously uncomfortable.
“That’s all?” She looks disappointed and hurt. “Will you be going to Canada with us at some point?”
“Yes, but not right now.”

Becky frowns at Bart. Is he purposely avoiding her? But why? They seem to be getting along well, why is he pulling back?

She shrugs then turns towards the bedroom. “Ok, well, see you around I guess.”

Unthinkingly, but afraid of losing her, Bart reaches for her, grabs her arm and pulls her back. Her surprised gaze shoots up to meet his. He doesn’t know what to tell her. He doesn’t want to tell her anything, anything at all that would make her hope for a future between them. But . . . he can’t let her go, not when she’s clearly hurt by his attitude.

He doesn’t need to say a word. Becky understands there’s much he hasn’t told her. His reasons for reacting the way he is right now. She slowly leans up until her mouth is only a breath away, then she waits. And waits some more. Tears slowly fill her eyes as Bart refuses to meet her lips and just as she goes to turn away, he growls low in his throat and pulls her up against him. He crushes his mouth down on hers and Bart and Becky see fireworks. Heat flares in them and, for the first time in centuries, Bart has to fight with himself to keep his element under control. Oh crap! He thinks. He doesn’t know who ends the kiss but they are both left panting, clinging to the other, unwilling to let go. As Rosalina’s curt voice reaches them, Becky reluctantly turns from him and returns to her friends.

Oh crap! Bart thinks again. The kiss just confirmed what he was trying to avoid confirming at all costs: Becky is his mate.



This is the third book, the one I am presently working on. 


She isn’t sure he understood her because suddenly, she is no longer in the room. With her arms still around Drake’s waist, she lifts her head and looks around. She notices two people in the room –a man and a woman- but it isn’t before she hears Drake’s sharp intake of breath that she recognises them: Orion and his wife Meghan, Rhee’s mother.

Aya and Tristan have –up until recently- dreamt of Orion their whole lives. When they met the quadruplets, they realised their dreams were in fact the God of Creation’s memories. Because of that, she knows Orion’s appearance as well as she does her own. But the man she sees sitting before her looks very little like the God of her dreams. His hair –jet black in her dreams and always tied in a ponytail at his neck- is dishevelled and has turned completely white. Aya doesn’t know if Drake sees the resemblance but at this very moment, Orion looks much like his twin brother, Magnus. Deep wrinkles line his once smooth face. His hand is shaking as he reaches over to grasp his wife’s hand in his own. The candle flickering on the table between them is casting dark shadows on the man’s face. Orion’s white head is bowed as if it weighs too much on his frail shoulders.

“Meghan, I am dying my sweetheart.” Orion’s voice is dry and raspy. Aya feels a shiver make its way down her spine; he sounds like Drromoba! 
                Meghan pales and grips his hand tighter. “Are you sure of this?” She asks quietly.

He looks up and stares into her eyes, showing her the full measure of his aged face. “But why? It can’t be! We’ve been together for such a short time!”
                “Long enough to have had Rhee, my sweet. At least you will have her when. .  I am gone.”

Meghan blinks back tears in her large brown eyes. “I wish you were still immortal, you wouldn’t have to leave me and our daughter.”

Aya can feel Drake flinch in her arms. She hadn’t removed them from around him; she was afraid this vision would go away. Apparently this is something he needs to see.

“I am not sorry for that, my sweet. Fate decides our most likely path in life but we choose to follow it or not. When I bedded Clarissa, I knew she would get pregnant with my child. I felt that from the very core of myself. But I chose to have four instead of just one. Not only because my powers would be equally divided but also because I sensed my child would not have an easy life. I wanted it to never know solitude. To never be alone to face hardships. To know it could always count on its siblings, no matter what. So I divided them into four. But at the moment of their conception, I had a vision that had nothing to do with the fact that I knew I was creating them.  The vision showed me Clarissa giving birth but everything went wrong and I was going to lose them. My babies. I just couldn’t. So I gave them the breath of life that saved them and subsequently took my immortality.” Orion coughs and breathes in shakily. “When I woke from that vision, I had a choice; immediately stop the mating with the woman and brave the Fates or continue and have a life with my children. I chose the latter.” He looks deeply into his wife’s eyes. “I have never regretted it. I know my children fight amongst themselves; they are so very different. But I am confident that they will change. Something –or someone- will help them band together. You must not regret my decision, my love, you must not hold this against them. Remember, it was my decision, I chose this.”

Her tears now running freely down her cheeks, Meghan speaks in a vibrant voice, “I do not hold them responsible, they are only children. They are a part of you. I could hate them no more than I could tear off one of my limbs. I love them dearly. My only regret is that they are not my children. I am sorry for the misunderstanding; I was only being selfish in wishing for your immortality.”
“You are not being selfish; you are in love and with my death I will leave you alone with our daughter.”
“We are not alone,” Meghan says fiercely, “the quadruplets are there also.”

Aya blinks back tears as she looks up to find Drake staring at Meghan and Orion, his own eyes tear-filled. Suddenly, the young woman feels a pull in her stomach and she automatically tightens her hold on the Vampire. “Hold on.” She whispers as they disappear from the room. And reappear in Paradise.