Delve into my imagination


M&M of Restraint: Family Tree

M&M Family Tree

Erica Chilson’s 35th Birthday Bash!

EC birthday

ERICA CHILSON’S 35th Birthday, Wicked Giveaway!
Help Erica celebrate her birthday by downloading a free copy of Restraint & Good Girl from Amazon. Enter to win a $35 Amazon Gift Card, A digital bundle of all Erica Chilson’s titles that are currently published ($45 value), a digital copy of the newly released Faithless, or a digital copy of KING!

To enter, simply click on the image above!

This giveaway is Erica’s way of giving a gift of thanks to her readers & fan! As a birthday gift to her, she would appreciate it if you could spread the word! The more books given away for FREE, the more future readers and fans.
Many thanks!

Giveaway Link:

Restraint Kindle Freebie Link:

Good Girl Kindle Freebie Link:

Faithless is Live


Amazon & B&N


As a child, I was Faith. As a youth, I was Faithless. Before I reached adulthood, I was pure Syn. When I was a girl of fifteen, my daddy was incarcerated, my momma was worthless, and my sister was clueless. I did everything I could to survive, to keep my loved ones alive. I began playing the game, living the game, and hungering to change and rule the game.

I’ve lived a hard life- a life that has even harder decisions and the hardest of consequences. My life has given me the clarity to see what I am and accept it.

Experience Faith Simpson’s life as she goes from being an innocent, impressionable girl to Restraint’s hardhearted petite sadist. The 335,000 word epic journey spans nearly 17 years and the entirety of the Mistress and Master of Restraint Series. Your thirst for answers is quenched, leaving you satisfied but eager for more.

What’s doing?


Yeah, I just totally jacked that ‘What’s doing?’ tagline from Butch O’Neil of the BDB. *snorts* My favorite brother…

What’s doing is what am I doing… thought I’d give you all a heads up. The above picture gives you all a huge clue 😉

First, if you’d love a chance to win a KINDLE PAPERWHITE & a massive amount of sexy wicked reads, go *here* and enter. Sinfully Sexy Summer Bonanza Giveaway. A digital bundle of my titles are in the giveaway. Great way to get some summer reading for free!
July 11-15 Restraint & Good Girl will be free on Amazon for the Kindle & its apps. & that is also why you will not be able to purchase those titles on B&N until September. July 11-15 I will also be holding a Rafflecopter Giveaway. Prizes: $35 Amazon Gift Card. Digital Bundle of Erica Chilson titles ($45 value) Restraint-Unleashed-Dexter-Dalton-Queen Omnibus-KING-Faithless-Good Girl. An ecopy of KING & Faithless. (click the pretty blue links to direct you to the free books and the giveaway) I will post on July 11, so it will be a fresh posting!

In preparation for the Free Promotion, I am reformatting/re-editing Restraint & Good Girl. This led me to why I want to tear my hair out. I first published Restraint on April 24th, 2012. I then went back and rewrote it in October and released the updated version on Nov. 1st, 2012. Restraint was my first book, so it has a LOT of major issues. As I’ve grown in my craft, I’ve changed my writing style. This chick has logged in almost a million words in the past year- that is a lot of growth. Wednesday night, I opened up the doc for Restraint, planning on just looking for errors and such, reformatting issues. You didn’t want to be in my thoughts… yeah… you didn’t. So yet again, I find myself REWRITING Restraint, because I feel like it sucks. I want my readers to get the best possible experience from me, and I feel like this was just shoddy writing.

Original Restraint: was only 88 pages in PDF format. I think it came out to be 120-something for Kindle and Nook. It was 52,000 words, I believe.
Revised copy: 217 Kindle & Nook pages. 70,000 words.
Now: I’m  about a quarter way thru the rewrite and I’ve added 6,000 words.

I just didn’t like the flow of the story, how the scenes played out, or Katya’s lack of internal dialogue. And when she did think something, her actions belied the thoughts. God, I found that annoying as all hell. It’s doubtful I will add scenes, but I changed the dialogue, sentence structure, added description, and internal dialogue. Katya shouldn’t be a contradiction. I want the story to flow smoothly and with limited errors. I will never be able to find all of those suckers, but each one I eliminate is one less error that will break a reader from the story. You know what I mean, you’re reading along and it’s like hitting a pothole while driving, it jars you.

If you want to reread the newest version, just update your copy or download the free copy on July 11-15. I haven’t updated to the newest edition yet, because I’m not finished, so don’t go looking for it yet. It will also be formatted differently, so that’s a plus

Basically, I just didn’t want to be embarrassed by my first book… it’s the anchor of the M&M of Restraint series, after all.

Good Girl… Willow will get checked for errors, formatting issues, and sentence structure. Not much should change. And if you haven’t started the Playroom series, now’s your chance to get it for free on July 11th-15!

Faithless… is currently being read by the betas. When they give me their questionnaires and edits back and I will get back to work on Syn. The book will be $9.99 on Amazon & B&N. Why that price, you ask? Faithless spans three books: Faith, Faithless, and Syn. Think of it as an omnibus edition. It has 113 chapter… yes, 113 chapter & 330,000 words. Yes,  it will take days to read! I promise you will be engrossed! Let’s hope I can find all the booboos in that many pages. Lots of chances for mishaps! My target Release is July 7th! Hopefully before then.

The Good Girl reread/re-edit/reformat is to prepare me for Widow. Widow is currently 75% completed, already over 100,000 words long. I need to add a storyline thread to it and write the ending. My target for book 2 in the Playroom series is the end of August.

I’m leaving on Vacation in a few days for a cross-country trip from Pennsylvania to New Mexico. That’s a long-ass ride, trust me. I will be working the rewrites and on Widow on the trip out. My parents and I, and our little dog, too, are going to Raton, New Mexico (NRA Whittington Center) for the BPCR Silhouette (scope & Iron sights) & the 22-caliber National Championships. My father is the returning 2012 National Champ for the Iron Sights, let’s hope he retains his title and captures the other two! Go, Dad, Go!

Send your positive thoughts to Brian Scott Chilson, because Saturday and Sunday he is shooting in the Pennsylvania State Championship! Aim true, Daddy-o!

Come next week, I will be in higher elevations dreaming of more oxygen and more humidity. This chick may live in the Appalachian mountains, but they be teeny-tiny mountains compared to the Rockies, and I love my thick swampy air. It’s an adventure, but my  days are spent outside in the sweltering heat with hundreds of rifles firing. It’s a loud, hot, dirty day… and not the sexy kind. I get a lot of writing and reading done while on vacation. Once my rewrites are completed, I’ll break into my Kindle and nook Apps.

My 35th birthday is rapidly approaching… ugh… if someone could send me a dirty sexy hottie tied up in only a red bow…. yeah… But what I’d really like is for all of my fans to spread the word about my works. I’m trying my damnedest to provide intense entertainment. Word of mouth is a self-published author’s bread and butter. If you could share the links to the giveaway on Twitter and Facebook, add my books on your Goodreads  profiles, and quickly tap out a review on Goodreads and Amazon, I would be thoroughly appreciative.

I love my fans, they offer me endless amounts of inspiration and encouragement. Writing is private. We bleed on the pages… but then we have to publish and be under constant assault. You never know if a message, comment, or email is a good one or one that will wreck you for an hour, a day, or a week. Total inspiration sappers, that. Plus, emotions do not transfer well in digital media. Meaning, I could write something and everyone will take it the wrong way… happened to day, in fact. But that’s how the msgs, emails, and comments are for me. So I thank you for keeping me real, down to earth, and firmly yanking my head out of my ass.

Peace out… off to rewrite Restraint for its betterment! Happy Wicked Reading!



Note to readers



This is within the pages of Faithless.
~Note to Readers~

There are a lot of misconceptions on what constitutes Dark Erotica or BDSM Fiction. Many would say that I do not write within my genre. I’ve read a myriad of contradictory statements. Every genre is broken down into sub-genres. But a lot of the misconception breaks down to a lack of knowledge.


BDSM doesn’t mean you live your life in a dungeon. It also doesn’t mean that your life is consumed with kink. While hot to read, the people of the lifestyle are not sexual beasts. They have lives, jobs, families, hobbies, and friends that do not revolve around kink.

My books are not centered in a dungeon, because life is not centered in a dungeon. I just cannot write one dimensionally. This works for shorter novels or standalone shorts and novellas, but not a longstanding series. I have to show all the facets of life to create a three dimensional storyline with lifelike characters… and sometimes, life just isn’t sexy.  


Eroticism in my series: again, people have varying libidos. I cannot write every character as a sexual deviant that runs around dry-humping everyone like a dog. Each book is individually written based on the character. Some of my characters are randy sonsofbitches and others are more passive. I find that the overuse of sex in a book is just as bad as no sex in a book. I cannot connect with a book when it’s punch-you-in-the-face sex from the very first chapter. I need teased and enticed. I want a book to seduce me right along with the characters. Readers may read one hundred pages and find no sex or they may find sixty pages of sexually explicit content within my books. Why? It depends on my characters, my mood when plotting and writing, and the flow of the storyline. I will never write sex just for the sake of sex. If you find a random hookup in my books… it’s never random.


Mistress & Master of Restraint is the title of the series, and not because it revolves around Restraint. The Mistress & Master denotes that the narrator of each book will be a Dominant. The Restraint denotes it as the common denominator- the link between the characters. You may read a book and never enter Restraint. But all of the books will be narrated by a Dominant and be connected to Restraint.


Another BDSM misconception: BDSM isn’t necessarily about sex. The lifestyle varies as much as any culture varies. BDSM is always about release: sexual, mental, emotional, spiritual, pleasure, and pain. It could be a combination of one or two, all of them, or only one. But it most certainly doesn’t have to be sexual. It is a hunger that is being fed. As beings, we need sustenance, oxygen, water, sleep, sex, and companionship. Why would BDSM only feed one of your biological needs? And biological doesn’t always equate sexy.


Dominance: it is inborn. You are either dominant or you are not. You cannot learn it. Often in Dark Erotica or BDSM Fiction, books will portray the Dominant in a very cruel light. I’d heard from many that Dexter wasn’t cruel enough of as sadist. Dominant means you are a natural born leader, not an ABUSER. Cruel is abuse. As a survivor of domestic violence, abuse is never sexy.


I’ve heard from readers that they do not like children in my books, and a few said they didn’t want marriages and pregnancies. I assume this is because readers want fantasy, and this is too real to life. I cannot connect with a book that is missing major life events. Children exist or we wouldn’t have any adults. Pregnancies exist or we wouldn’t have any more children. What is sex? Sex is a biological need to mate- mate to create children. It blows my mind that my books should be without pregnancy, children, or unions. Seriously?

While real life isn’t sexy… it’s real.


HEA/HFN: I’ve written blog posting about this subject. My characters always have a HEA, it may not be within their book, and it may not be within a coupling. I believe HEA begins and ends inside of you. If the character is content with their lot in life, then they have reached their HEA. And on the opposite end: Dexter, again, readers felt he shouldn’t have an HEA because he is a sadist. I’ve heard this with Syn, as well. Why not? While fictitious, they are human beings. Only a submissive person should be happy, even if they have a nasty personality?


Romance: nowhere are the M&M books listed as romance. A few popular series that are listed as Romance, dip their toes in the BDSM or Erotica or Dark Erotica pool. The mainstream readers believe that all these types of novels should read just as those do. They are disappointed when my books do not read like a romance novel. I have another series, the Playroom, which has more romantic themes- less dark. I say less dark instead of light and romantic themes instead of romance, because I am incapable of light and romancy reads. I write darkly, twisted, sarcastic, wounded, raw and gritty, suspenseful and mysterious. Just as I do not write one dimensional characters, I do not write within one genre. I do not write to outrage or titillate or freak out my readers. I just write what my imagination tells me to write.


I guess the reason for this note is to clear up some of the misconceptions about my writing. I will not write to please specific readers, because it is impossible to please everyone. Hell, I love a lot of books the majority loathes, and I loathe a lot of books the majority loves. What’s the saying… no book is ever read the same way twice and no two readers read the same book.





Faithless: Chapter Two

Beware: DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVEN’T READ KING *yes, it’s shouty capitals important*

~Chapter Two~

“Forget your key again, sis?” My sister laughs as she lets me into the house. Her tiny mouth is curved in an amused grin, blue eyes sparking with cheer.

“Something like that,” I grumpily mumble, trying to hide my accent. It’s always exhausting to be what I’m not, so it makes me mean and nasty. “Here,” I say, while pulling the Id from my pocket. “You did well on the entrance examine. No Fundamentals of Mathematics for you. I did real good.”

“Sis, you have to try harder,” Fate chastises me. If her voice had held mocking pity I would’ve been even angrier, but she’s just trying to teach me right. “It’s ‘I did really well.’ You start Hillbrook in a few days. You can’t go another year without talking. They will eat you alive, and I won’t be able to protect you. You need to worry about appearances, especially with this scandal.” Her expression pinches when she thinks of what Daddy did to the people of this city. She isn’t sad that he’s in jail, like I am. She’s mad that he made us look bad.

“And here, I thought I was the one always protecting my big sister,” I tease, drawing her away from Daddy’s scandal. Ordinarily it don’t bother me much when she picks on my diction, but Wil’s words hit deep. “You could’ve said thanks,” I grumble- thanks for taking my test, Faith. Thanks for protecting me against the mean-looking boy, Faith. Thanks for living a different life so that momma wouldn’t be mean to me, Faith. Thanks for being the best sister in the world, Faith. But Fate, she is blind to all things Faith-related.

“Thanks,” she bubbly squeaks, not knowing why she’s thanking me. “Hungry?” Fate hops on her heels, her ponytail happily bobbing at the back of her head. She looks and acts my age, but deep inside, I feel older than her. It’s why I have to be the adult when she’s the big sister.

I roll my eyes at her and head towards the kitchen. “You’d die without me. I’ll work on my English if you work on your passive-aggressiveness. Just ask for something if you want it.”

“I’m hungry,” she whines. “Will you feed me, please?” She bats her long, blonde eyelashes and smiles sweetly.

“Worst day of your life so far was when the staff was let go, wasn’t it?” I shake my head in disgust. I fix her a peanut butter and jelly while we chat. Fate isn’t even capable of that.

“It was,” she says, bashfully hiding her face as she sits at the kitchen island.

“Sis, you have to learn how to take care of yourself. Now that you’re broke, you’re going to have to do this stuff yourself. You’re an adult now. Even the state won’t take you in.” I shudder from the thought.

 Momma tried to give me to the state when Daddy brought me home. Apparently you don’t bring your dirty little secret home to your wife and expect her to keep it. No one in my parents’ social circles knows that I ain’t momma’s. They compromised. Daddy’s sister, Amelia, took me in, and I only come around when we need to keep up appearances. It would have looked strange if I didn’t go to Hillbrook. I’m starting my sophomore year in a few days. Ordinarily I wouldn’t be home until the night before school started, but Daddy’s arrest trumped everything. Dirty secret’s home and Momma’s pretending we’re a happy family.

“Couldn’t we have something better than pb&j?” Fate complains, smushing her face up in revulsion. She pokes at the bread and peeks between the slices.

“I know your palate is diverse,” I grin at her and she giggles. “How’s that for vocabulary, sis? I ate this for months at a time. You better get used to it. No money, no food.”

“I could go visit Regina, I suppose,” she sighs, a calculating light shines from her eyes- one I loathe. She takes an experimental bite of the sandwich, slowly chews, smiles to herself when she deems it tasty, and then takes a huge bite.

Sometimes I hate my sister. She is the most entitled, self-deluded person I’ve ever met. You can’t help but love her because she is blind to the fact. She ain’t doing it to be mean, she just don’t get it. After the day I’ve had, I feel my temperature rising.

“You shouldn’t use people like that, Fate,” I scold her, when usually I keep my trap shut. “It’s rude.”

“I’m not using her. She’s my best friend. Besides, she gets lonely in that huge house. She isn’t even allowed to eat in the big dining room, can you believe that?”

Blind. Blind. Blind. I repeat this so my hand doesn’t fly out and smack the entitlement from her perfect face.

“Wouldn’t have any idea what that’s like,” I sarcastically say. “No clue. How awful that must be for Regina.”

My daddy doted on me to make up for the life I was born into. He gave me endless attention. He’d spend time with me in West Virginia. He didn’t buy my love, he earned it. I want to resent him for not sticking up for me with Momma, but I can see where he’s coming from. I’d rather live real life with Aunt Amelia than this fake life. Momma and Fate are learning how easy it is to lose money. If you ain’t got a brain in your head, you’ll lie down and die. They’re dying and I’m resuscitating.

When I came home for important events, I was told to keep my mouth shut. Being quiet for Wil will be easy. I’ve went weeks without speaking to anyone but Daddy and Fate. And when my sister makes fun of me, my mouth don’t open for a long while.

I really like Regina. She thinks like me. So I just roll my eyes that Fate is upset that her friend has to eat prime rib in any room except the main dining room. Fate’s too delusional to realize she’s just making excuses to eat fine cuisine. Ironically, Fate failed to see her sister eating in her bedroom. I always ate what the staff ate. Momma had no need for Daddy’s bastard to eat her frilly food.

Only reason I’m roaming free is that Momma won’t leave her room and the staff is gone. Someone needs to do the cooking and cleaning for the blind. I do it because they’re incapable. Making a peanut butter sandwich is as advanced for them as brain surgery is for me.

“I’m going to see Daddy tomorrow. You going with?” I wipe down the kitchen while Fate eats her dinner. I pour her a glass of milk to go with it. I don’t eat. I have my own stuff in my room. Stuff I bought with my own money. I don’t want nothing from Momma, even if it did originate from Daddy.

“Dad doesn’t want to see me,” Fate grumbles while chewing.

“You lie,” I growl. “You’re making excuses. You’re acting just like Momma.”

“That’s because I’m too much like Mom. Dad doesn’t like me like he loves you. You’re his protégée.” She sounds hurt because I’m my daddy’s girl.

“That’s not really a compliment anymore, ya know. It’s like saying I’m destined to become a career criminal. Momma won’t even be in the same room with me. You heard her this morning. She said I was tainted by Daddy and my whore of a mother. She said Aunt Amelia was teaching me to be a con like Daddy. You think I don’t see her looking at me sideways? She thinks I’m up to no good. Like I’m going to steal my own dang silver and pawn it.”

“Mom’s not doing well, you know that. She hasn’t been out of her room for a few days. The problem is that you don’t see what Dad did as wrong. It was, Faith. It was wrong to scam all of those families out of money. He wasn’t being Robin Hood; he was keeping it for himself.”

“You don’t seem to have a problem spending that money, Fate,” I snap. “Your fancy clothes and your fancy schools weren’t free. Those families paid for it.”

“Don’t start this again.” She uses that tone that means I’m being insufferable. It’s the same one her mom uses. I loathe that tone, it sets off my temperature. “I know it bothers you that you grew up differently from me.”

“That’s got nothing to do with this. I don’t want that shit! I don’t care anything about it. I had everything I needed and more. I just want him out of prison, but you and Momma want him there. So yeah, it’s been started now, sister,” I snarl. I fling the dishcloth into the sink, preparing to throw down with my delusional sister.  

“It was wrong,” she calmly says. Fate never loses her temper. She just backs down. I used to think it was because she thought she was better than me, now I think she’s too weak to fight back.

“It wrong, huh?” I slap my hand down on the kitchen island to gain her attention, and then I swipe her half-eaten sandwich away. I chuck the sandwich and the plate into the trash. She hungry, she can smear some bread. She thirsty, she can pour her own dang milk. I’m not her servant, I’m her sister, and this house is mine just as much as it is hers or Momma’s. I grab her glass of milk and toss it into the sink. The glass breaks, spraying milk everywhere. I ain’t cleaning it up, either.

“That, sure as shit, didn’t stop Momma from going to spas and taking vacays. You didn’t stop spending money on purses that cost more than Aunt Amelia’s trailer. Daddy may have stolen that money, but he worked hard for it. And you and Momma worked just as hard spending it.”

“There is no sense even talking to you when you get this way,” Fate says, walking away from me.

“Really,” I screech, “Really? You had no problem with me taking your SATs two years ago or your college entrance exams today. That’s was a crime. You making your baby sister a criminal. You making your Daddy a criminal to pay for your elitist bullshit. You just spent it and turned a blind eye to where it came from. And now you have no problem spending the money I worked for.”

“What are we supposed to do, Faith, starve? Our accounts were seized and this house is next. We have weeks, maybe less, until we’re homeless.”

“I don’t expect you to starve, Fate. I expect you to get a damn job or pawn your shit or treat me with some respect. I’m not the hillbilly moron you call me behind my back, and then have the nerve to ask to take your tests.”

“You offered,” Fate lamely replies, no shame in her tone. Her patronizing voice sets me off like a timer on a bomb.  

“And you took me up on it,” I scream. I curl my fingers into my palms, curbing the need to pick up the wrought-iron stool Fate was sitting on and smash it into the French doors- anything to get her attention- to impart some dang knowledge in her blank skull.   

“I can’t get a job. I have to go to school.” Even heated, she doesn’t raise her voice… and boy, if that don’t make me meaner than cat shit. Her innocent expression ramps up my temper to murderous-violence levels.

“Great. That’s great. I’ve been working for three years, saving for my future. That’s the money you’re spending now. So as you bitch about pb&j, you’re spending a fifteen-year-old’s future. My nineteen-year-old princess of a sister can’t get a job because she has college after she spent an entire year touring Europe and sitting on her ass. Well, no shocker here, but I have to go to HIGH SCHOOL,” I scream bloody murder. “One year ago, I graduated from junior high. You’re the adult!”  

“Which is evident by the way you speak, isn’t it?” her haughty attitude dominates her voice. “If you’d go to school, you wouldn’t sound like an idiot.”

I’m stunned speechless at the level of disrespect and blindness. “Wow… just wow… You completely missed the mark on that one, sister. But thanks,” I seethe. “I’m the moron that’s too stupid for school, but smart enough to be used by you. Here, I thought I spoke like this because I was tossed from my home by my momma because she didn’t want me no more. I see this accent as a badge of honor. It means I’m not as ignorant as you. But nope, everyone here thinks it’s from a lack of intelligence. How intelligent are you, with your pretty soft spoken words, sister?”

“You’re upset and using me to vent. I will leave you to it,” Fate calmly says and heads for the front door.

“You need a dose of reality, Fate. Do you really think Daddy and I take care of you and Momma out of love? We do it because you’re weak. It’d be like tossing a dog out in the cold or throwing a baby in a dumpster. I have too much humanity for that. Today, I had to pretend to be you to save you and it goes unthanked. You’re my responsibility now that Daddy can’t take care of you. But you know what, eventually I may cut the dead weight,” I threaten.

“Are you saying you don’t love me?” She whines, her blue eyes glistening with unshed tears. Usually that would have me backing down, but not today.  

“Are you saying you love me? Because from where I stand, you only love what I can do for you, same goes for Daddy. He stole, you spent, and you leave him to rot. You and Momma are leeches, sucking us dry.”

“Why are you so nasty? I’ll be at Regina’s,” she cries, heading towards the door.

“Have fun with that. Pretty sure you’ll be leeching off of her next, but maybe she’ll make you work for it. Tell the Whittenhowers I said hi!”

I trudge up to my room, pounding my feet on the stair treads. A lot of good it does me since I only weigh eighty pounds. I don’t make the impact I was hoping for. But it doesn’t matter since I see her leaning on my door and my temperature boils over.

“Don’t get too comfy, Momma. This ain’t your house no more. You always called my mom a whore because she spread her legs for Daddy. Well, what do you call what you do? You’re worthless. You do nothing but bleed Daddy dry and act all uppity about it.”

Momma looks me over for a long while. She looks disgusted that she likes what she sees. Well, I don’t like what I see. I see a dried-up desperate woman. Lara loves plastic surgery. It’s not making her look younger, just funny. I wonder if she’s jealous of Fate and me. Lara with her bleached hair, brown eyes contacted in blue, and her augmented body. Her daughters are what she’s tried to change herself into… and failed.

“Gwen was a blight on the area. Lord knows how many kids that woman has floating around. She sold you back to your father. What kind of mother does that? I haven’t treated you the best, but I never sold you.”

“You woulda if you coulda, though. Ain’t that right, Lara? I ain’t calling you Momma no more. We ain’t kin. You already sold Daddy out to the Feds,” I hiss in disgust.  

“You’re all alike.” She deeply sighs, like this conversation is inconveniencing her. “Amelia raised Tom and Tom and Amelia raised you… con-artist, the lot of you. I’d thought Tom had changed, but all he did was get better at it.”

“Like you didn’t know Daddy was a criminal.” I roll my eyes at the absurdity of it. “You love to judge while you turn a blind eye on what you’re doing. You’re worse than he ever thought of being. I want you out of my house. It’s not yours. It’s Daddy’s, so it mine and Fate’s now. We’ll be here until we’re kicked out. I promised I’d take care of Fate, but I never said nothing about you. I don’t care how bad Fate acts, I’ll take care of her. But, you and I, we ain’t blood.”

 “Good luck with that,” she evilly purrs, heading towards her room. “You know where to find me.”

Possessed by my characters

I’ve had a lot of stops and starts with Faithless. I believe I’ve attempted to write it 5 or 6 times, and then I burn the hell out. In the past, I’ve written books in one sitting. What I mean by that, is that nothing distracts me until the first draft is completed. I won’t read, watch tv, shop. Usually I ignore small things *cough cough* major things: Family. Responsibilities. Hygiene (um, I’m clean, dammit!) (HA!) I have two feet of natural curly hair so it gets ignored by being twisted on my head- washed, not combed, and tied the hell up. I feel mildly guilty over the fact that I am well on my way to dreadlocks. I think I could pull it off. & it’s sundress weather- time to break out the razor and paint the tootsies 😉

Faithless has been different. I will make huge headway over a period of 4-5 days, and then burn the hell out. One reason is that Faithless is like the length of the first 5 books in the M&M series. It took me a while to figure out that was some of it. I HAD written the length of a first draft, just not the length of Faithless’ first draft.

This time around, I’ve dicked off. I’ve worked on Wicked Reads stuff. Played around on the websites. All in the name of saying I’m doing something productive in my career. I don’t believe in play until I finish one book and haven’t started another. But I seem to forget that in the first four months of 2013 I’ve published Good Girl, written Widow, written KING, and written part one of Faithless, hell, I even started The Hunter. So in retrospect, I shouldn’t feel guilty for the hundreds of hours spent playing the Sims 3 and for reading like 50 books in the past six weeks.

And I called this pretend to work while trying to relax time: Writer’s Block.

I’ve been a moody bitch, biting and snapping and feeling unhinged- MANIC. Everything is rubbing on my last nerve. It’s not like I’m crying or anything. Frankly, I feel like I could hurt something.

Two reasons for my Faithless difficulty:


I have no idea how long this book will be. A conservative guesstimate is 1000+ pages. I have well over 100 chapters outlined and I already have 34 written. So yeah, that 134 chapters in a book. We are talking at least 10 pages per chapter. So these writing tangents where I feel like I didn’t get a lot of progress. I did. It’s just so long that you don’t see it. Like a sprint vs a marathon. It’s demotivational.

My past characters haven’t been sunshine and rainbows or anything. Dalton is Emo for heaven’s sake. Whitt was a breath of fresh air. Angsty Willow was snarkilicous to write. Easy-peasy, so fresh and breezy. SYN… *groan* that girl takes a lot out of me, and I am just getting to the part where she thinks she might be a sadist. It’s only going to get worse from here on out.
As I write, I develop my character. I have to become one with the character to accurately write them. I know them inside and out. When I first started writing, I didn’t get as absorbed, and I’m sure the reader can notice this. I’m not as invested in Kat, or even Dexter. Don’t get me wrong, I love them. I just don’t know them. By the time Queen was written, I pretty much was taken over by Regina. And it’s obvious. Regina is a strong woman, but loving and kind.

SYN– I’ve been Possessed by SYN.
That is an atrocious place to be. You’ve read about our Petite Sadist. You’ve witnessed her grunts and sneers and snarls. After a day or five of being inside Syn’s head, I have to call it quits. Seriously, she is making me manic. She is sweet and loving and broken. She is snide and nasty and deadly. She is fierce and loyal. Syn takes no prisoners.

Syn has affected how I deal with outside forces. I am very tactful and pleasant. I can look you in the eye and smile while I think the sarcastic remarks that will never leave my lips. But Syn. Syn makes me say those remarks. Syn makes me post statuses and comments and blog posts. She isn’t satisfied if she feels disrespected. She is disciplined and she demands a lot of me.

Syn & I have came up with an agreement. We will push out those chapters a few days at a clip, and then Erica gets 24-48 hours to remember she is Erica.