Inside Information with D.L. Jackson & Win an e- Copy of Slipping the Past

Hi, my name is D.L. Jackson. I'm an author, daydreamer and world-building fanatic. I rolled several ideas around before I decided on what I wanted to blog about and came up with one thing, the thing all writers like to talk about the most, their stories.

Authors chop for a number of reasons. We cut sentences, paragraphs and even whole chapters. There are times we have plot threads stealing attention from the main characters or we’ve created Frankenstories that have morphed from the original manuscript and really deserve a novel of their own. Sometimes we cut to tighten and sometimes we have to meet a certain word count. When I chop, I don’t toss the cuts away. Instead they find their way into the Junkyard of Unintentional Words and like all junkyards, there are treasures to be found there. Those parts and pieces can be salvaged and used to build something else.

And they have been.

So without further delay, here’s the chops that didn’t make it into the final copy and an example of a recycle to a WIP. Shhhh. Don’t tell anyone you got inside information.

From Slipping the Past, published with Liquid Silver Books, http://liquidsilverbooks.com/, comes the first cut.

Chop #1.

“Where are we going?”

Jocelyn down shifted. She’d no idea. They’d been circling the neighborhood for the last hour. Since the enforcers didn’t drive, she wasn’t sure if they were still waiting for her at the house. She knew she could never go home, but she wasn’t ready to face that reality. Plus, she needed to drop Nate. She couldn’t drag him into this, regardless what her mother wanted but there was a problem leaving him home, he was her eyes. Without him, her mother’s transporter was worthless.

“Jocelyn?”

“I don’t know. I’m trying to think.”

“You’re wasting the charge in this vehicle. We need to put as much distance as we can between us and that reaper.”

“Stop, Nate. I’m trying to figure it out.”

“You’re not ditching me.”

Jocelyn groaned and rolled to a stop in front of the house. Nate looked away from it. “Nate, look at the house. I can’t see it.”

“No. We need to get out of here.”

“Nate.”

“No.”

“Damn it, Nate. Would you look at the house? I need to see.”

Nate snorted and stared at the pavement, refusing to give her what she wanted. Jocelyn watched through his eyes as the wind caught the leaves and sent them whirling across the road’s surface in a spiral dance. For once, she wished she could see with her own eyes, but it looked like she’d have to lower herself to begging.

“Please.”

“If we keep doing this, he’s going to come out that door and see us. Then we’re done.”

“I’m done. You’re not involved.”

“Says the woman who’s borrowing my eyes to sort of make her escape—if she’d actually leave the neighborhood.” Nate huffed and glanced at the front door. “Happy?”

Jocelyn put the vehicle in first and began to drive again.

Jake glanced at the door one more time. “You better get this thing going.” Ian stepped out onto the porch and locked onto them. Jocelyn slammed her foot to the floor.

“Eyes front, Nate!”

Here’s the reworked version for a current WIP.

Seven years before…

“Where are we going?”

Jocelyn down shifted. She’d no idea, but she wouldn’t admit it, not to him. Joce was too damned stubborn, a trait they both shared.

Everything looked quiet and the lights were off, but that didn’t mean anything. Since the enforcers didn’t drive, they could still be waiting for her at the house. She could never go home.
She wasn’t ready to face that reality. She was also trying to come up with a reason to ditch him.

She couldn’t. Without him, she couldn’t see. Without him, she couldn’t run.

Jocelyn had been born with the lenses in her eyes fully dilated and was unable to take any light without suffering great pain. It didn’t make her sightless. She used other’s eyes to see the world as she’d been using his eyes to circle the house and it was getting damned old.

“Jocelyn?”

“I don’t know. I’m trying to think.”

“You’re wasting the charge in this vehicle. We need to put as much distance as we can between us and that reaper.”

“Stop, Nate. I’m trying to figure it out.”

“You’re not ditching me.”

Jocelyn groaned and rolled to a stop in front of the house. Nate turned away from it. “Nate, look at the house. I can’t see it.”

“No. We need to get out of here.”

“Nate.”

“No.”

“Would you look at the house? I need to see.”

Nate snorted and stared at the pavement, refusing to give her what she wanted. He knew Jocelyn watched through his eyes as the wind caught the leaves and sent them whirling across the road’s surface in a spiral dance. He could also hear that irritated hitch in her breath that signaled her red-headed temper was about to make an appearance. He continued to stare at the debris, not caring.

“Please.”

“If we keep doing this, he’s going to come out of our house and see us. Then we’re done.”

“I’m done. You’re not involved.”

“Says the woman who’s borrowing my eyes to sort of make her escape—if she’d actually leave the neighborhood.” One last time. Nate huffed and glanced at the front door. “Happy?”

Jocelyn put the vehicle in first and began to drive again.

The door opened and a tall reaper ducked from the entrance and onto the porch. The streetlights flickered and popped off, leaving only a set of red glowing eyes fixed on them like a laser sight.

“You better get this thing going.”

“Eyes front, Nate!” Jocelyn slammed her foot to the floor.

A change in POV and you’ve got a memory of Nate’s past.

As Last Flight of the Ark, also published with Liquid Silver Books, headed to the proof editor, I found myself mentally reviewing the metamorphosis of the story. In its last month it had grown and changed in ways I hadn’t originally imagined. At one point I’d extracted an entire plot thread. It took two weeks to unweave it from various chapters, to get the leaner meaner version that was released with Liquid Silver Books. I worked through Christmas, crammed to get it done before I traveled south to Parris Island for my son’s boot camp graduation and spent countless hours in my car on my lunch break to plug the holes I’d opened.

Chop #1:

He’d gone down to the hold to check the animals and the crew. Everyone appeared a little shaken but fine, until he’d reached the final cage. Frank blinked and rubbed his eyes. He hit the button on his com and opened a channel to the flight deck. “Uh, Captain Deluzio, this is Lieutenant Jeffers.”

“Captain Deluzio, here.”

“You might want to come down to the predator bay. There’s something you’ve got to see.”

“Roger, I’ll be right there.”

Frank stared into the bars at the naked people. They’d been wolves an hour ago. Where did the wolves go? He glanced into the other cages. Wolves. Real wolves, but what was in this cage was anything but animal.

A blonde rose to her feet. As beautiful a woman as he’d ever seen. Long legs, full breasts that didn’t have the slightest sag, platinum hair and the sweetest mouth he’d ever seen. A walking wet-dream. She stumbled toward him and placed her palms against the bars as though her fingers didn’t work, or she was uncertain how they did.

“Hello,” Frank said.

“Olo,” she repeated and cocked her head, holding his gaze so intensely he couldn’t break away. Frost and fire, sunshine and moonlight and Frank suddenly became a believer in love at first sight.

“I’m Frank.”

“I Frunk,” she repeated.

“No, I’m Frank.” He patted his chest then pointed at her. “Who are you?”

She leaned forward and sniffed him. A male behind her rose to his feet and snarled. She swung around and growled in response. He sank back to the ground and rolled to his back. Frank flinched. Dang dude, grow some balls.

The woman turned back around to study him. Her gaze traveled from his boots, stopping at his groin for longer than appropriate and then up to his face. The corner of her mouth curled and a dimple emerged. Frank’s heart skipped and squeezed in his chest.

She pressed tighter to the bars, her breasts protruded through and her nipples were close enough to make more than a polite introduction. Heat washed through his body. He coughed and tried to take his eyes off her. Impossible. His gaze remained on her breasts. “You need some clothes.”

“Clothes?” She drew her brows together, as though she thought nothing of being naked. Then again, there was nothing wrong with what she was wearing. No, there was. She was a chick. No matter how he tried to be disgusted, he couldn’t. Bryant wasn’t going to like this a bit.

“Clothes”, she said softly. Her eyes lit and she reached through the bars to tug on his sleeve.

“Clothes.”

“That’s right. Your boyfriend could use some too.”

Her mouth turned into a full smile, illuminating that perfect face. She pushed on the bars and gave him a pleading look. She was beautiful. Inhumanly beautiful. Frank studied her face and contemplated if he should let her out. She didn’t look dangerous.

Oh hell, why wait for Melissa? He unlocked the latch and the door swung open. She stepped through and stopped a foot from him. She reached up, touched his jaw and moved closer, pressing her naked body against him.

“Clothes.” She tugged on his shirt.

“No. These are mine. I’ll get something to fit you.”

“Mine,” she said and pulled at his top again. She brought both hands up and sandwiched his face between her palms. She sniffed his neck and his cock twitched. “Mine, Frunk.” She obviously had no inhibitions. She pressed closer, grinding her hips into him. None at all. Damn he was going to need to bathe in ice to knock his hard-on down.

It didn’t help that he could sense her interest. Hell, any red-blooded male would have to be blind not to sense it, but he’d caught all the extras a normal man wouldn’t. Her heart pounded staccato in her chest, beating out a primitive thrum that made his body ache. And...he could smell her. Wet. Excited. She ran her hand across the scruff on his jaw, practically inhaling him while she did it. She liked him.

“Frunk,” she whispered and ran her hand down his body to grope his nuts. “Mine.”

“Whoa, hey there.” Frank pulled her hand away. No, not liked, wanted and that knowledge had his pants growing tighter. Her breath grazed his face as though she wanted to kiss him. He closed his eyes and took in her essence, waiting for her lips to touch his. Oh hell, he’d never experimented with the opposite sex before. What could it hurt?

Instead, a soft, wet tongue ran from his chin to his forehead. Frank’s eyes snapped open. What?

“Olo, Frank. I’m Sheba.” Pain rocketed through his head as the back of his skull bounced off the iron bars. Teeth clamped onto his shoulder and punched through flesh and fabric. Seconds later, everything went dark.

Chop #2:

“I can’t believe you let her out,” Melissa snarled. “She’s not human. She’s dangerous.”

“Yeah, I figured that out. After she bashed my head into the side of that cage, bit me and stole my clothes.” Frank slapped a bag of ice against the back of his head. Melissa had offered him a blanket, which he now wore wrapped around his body like a toga. “She looked pretty damn human to me. She even spoke.”

Melissa lifted a brow. “Spoke? What did she say?”

“Olo, Frank. I’m Sheba.”

“She did not.”

“Uh, think again. If that girl was a wolf, that’s a thing of the past. She’s humanoid and a quick learner.”

“Organize a team. We have to find them.”

“I’ll get dressed first.” Frank gathered the blanket around him and headed for the bay

Well, I hope you enjoyed the inside peek. If you’d like a chance to win an e-copy of my erotic urban fantasy romance, Slipping the Past, leave a comment and I’ll pull one name from the hat.

Thanks to my hosts, for letting me guest post and share some of the pieces that didn’t make it into the final novel. I hope to be able to share the stories they truly belong in, in the future.

Best,
D L Jackson