AI and Writing - A Series of Looks Inside: Part Five - Rytr

Hello, good people of the blogosphere! Today, we're continuing our look inside AI with Rytr. I hope you've all been enjoying my journey through these services over the past month, and I hope you're learning things along the way. Be sure and subscribe so you get all the new goodies whenever they're published! You can also follow me on Facebook or Goodreads, where every blog post is shared.

Enough of all that. As you know, these are long, so I won't waste time up here. Get cozy, grab a cup of something warm, and let's get right into it.

This is the Rytr homepage a little closer to the bottom. I figured you might like to see the pricing before we dive into the writing. Well, you get 10k characters a month free, so we'll try to make the best of it.

I clicked Start Ryting (the spelling of that is making me feel some kinda way) and jumped through all the hoops. One thing I find interesting about this one is the fact that you have apps you can install and use in several places. Check the graphic on the right.

It starts by asking me why I'm here. 

Options were:

I chose Articles and Marketing Content because... Well, there was no creative writing option.

Then, whoa. What? Okay. Maybe we'll add that in under this one, and maybe we won't. How strange. Instead, we'll click to continue.

I started by wading through all these choices then went with Magic Command. *shrugs* No idea what I'm doing, but we'll get there.

I was brought to this page. This is where I'll insert my prompt for chapter one. We may still backbrowse and check out that Frase one...

Here's what I input:

Write the first chapter of a fiction novel, approximately 3k words in length. The main focus is two supernatural creatures coming together to defeat something I haven't come up with yet. Over the course of the story, the two will fall in love and end up together. It will be a YA romance fantasy novel.
Our characters are Elara, a vampire, and Rhys, a shape-shifting unicorn.
Here's the plot for the first six chapters:
Chapter 1: Elara, a lonely vampire, hunts in the forest. She senses a strange presence.
Chapter 2: A unicorn, Rhys, shifts into human form. He's lost and confused.
Chapter 3: Elara finds Rhys. She's drawn to his innocence, despite her vampire nature.
Chapter 4: Elara takes Rhys to her secluded home. He learns about vampires and her solitary life.
Chapter 5: Rhys reveals his unicorn origins. Elara is shocked but intrigued by his magic.
Chapter 6: A growing attraction sparks between them. A threat from Elara's past emerges. 

Everything else was left exactly as you see it above. Now, time to click the button...

Here's what it gave me (as you know, I'll insert fun comments along the way in italics--1,821 words or ~12k characters which means I'm done with my free trial hahaha):

**Chapter 1: The Whispering Woods**

The moon hung high, a silver sentinel in the dark velvet sky, illuminating the forest with an ethereal glow. Shadows danced between the trees, and the air was thick with the fragrant scent of damp earth and rich foliage. Elara moved silently through the underbrush, her senses heightened by the thrill of the hunt. As a vampire, she had long since mastered the art of stealth, her pale skin blending seamlessly into the night.

This actually isn't terrible. I like the silver sentinel and dark velvet comparison.

For centuries, she had roamed these woods, a solitary predator among the whispering leaves and rustling creatures. Most nights were uneventful—just her and the soft murmurs of nature. But tonight felt different; an electric charge hung in the air, prickling at her instincts. She paused, cocking her head to listen more closely.

DAMN THAT BUT AGAIN! Also: Here we start with the em-dashes.

A sound—a flutter of wings? A distant growl? No. It was something else entirely, something that sent a shiver down her spine. Elara’s heart quickened; she could feel it thrumming in her chest like a caged bird desperate for freedom. Curiosity gnawed at her as she prowled deeper into the woods.

Heart? What?

As she glided between trees, she caught sight of movement ahead. It was elusive but unmistakable—something shimmering just beyond her vision. She narrowed her eyes, straining to make out what lay beyond the veil of branches. The forest felt alive, almost sentient, as if it were holding its breath in anticipation.

Then came a soft gasp—an echoing sound that bounced off the trees and danced in her ears. Elara froze. It was not a sound she recognized from her usual prey; it was innocent yet laced with an unfamiliar magic that pulled at something deep within her.

I guess we're also allergic to contractions. This is a pet peeve of mine. Okay, just read now. We'll discuss after.

Compelled by an invisible force, Elara moved forward cautiously until she reached a small clearing bathed in moonlight. There, standing awash in silvery light, was a figure unlike any she had ever seen—a young man with hair that shimmered like spun gold and eyes as deep as the ocean on a stormy night. He stood barefoot on the cool grass, his white shirt billowing gently in the breeze as if he were part of the very air around him.

Elara's heart raced not with hunger but with something else entirely—wonder mixed with disbelief. This was no ordinary human; she could sense it in every fiber of her being. The magic emanating from him enveloped her like a warm embrace despite its strangeness.

“Who are you?” she whispered instinctively, stepping into the clearing fully now. Her voice was barely above a breath but still carried across the space between them.

The young man turned abruptly at her voice, his expression shifting from surprise to wariness in an instant. “I… I’m not sure,” he stammered, his gaze darting around as if searching for answers in the shadows.

His confusion tugged at Elara’s heartstrings—a pang of empathy for this lost soul who seemed to have wandered far from home. “You’re not from here,” she stated rather than asked.

He shook his head slowly, golden hair catching the moonlight like threads of sunlight against his pale skin. “I don’t remember how I got here. One moment I was… somewhere else… and then I was here.”

The forest seemed to hum around them as they exchanged uncertain glances; Elara’s curiosity deepened further still—the way he spoke hinted at innocence that seemed almost otherworldly. “What do you mean ‘somewhere else’?”

He hesitated before replying, “It’s hard to explain… I think I might be lost.” There was a vulnerability in his tone that resonated with Elara’s own loneliness—a feeling she hadn’t allowed herself to acknowledge for centuries.

“Lost?” She stepped closer, sensing an urge to protect him blooming within her chest like an unexpected flower breaking through cold soil. “What are you? You seem… different.”

“I don’t know exactly,” he admitted again, frustration creeping into his voice. “But there’s something about me—something magical.” He lifted his hands slightly as if trying to conjure evidence of his claim.

As he did so, a soft glow emanated from his fingertips—a gentle luminescence that twinkled like stars scattered across the night sky before fading back into darkness. Elara gasped involuntarily; magic had always been foreign to her realm—the stuff of dreams and stories whispered among ancient vampires.

“Magic?” Her voice was barely more than a whisper now, filled with awe and trepidation.

“Yes,” he replied quietly but firmly, locking eyes with hers as though trying to convey more than words could express. “I think I might be… a unicorn.”

Elara blinked rapidly as disbelief washed over her; unicorns were mere legends among vampires—myths crafted to enchant children and tease adults alike. Yet here stood this boy before her—his essence radiating purity and enchantment.

“How is that possible?” she murmured softly yet urgently, grappling with both skepticism and intrigue bubbling within her mind.

“I can’t explain it,” he replied earnestly while running fingers through his hair in frustration once more. “I just know there’s magic inside me.”

Elara took another step closer; it felt as if gravity itself had shifted between them—a pull stronger than mere attraction or curiosity—it felt like fate weaving their paths together under this starry sky.

“I’m Elara,” she introduced herself finally after what felt like an eternity of silence stretched between them thick with unspoken emotions.

“Rhys,” he said simply but there lay weight behind the name—like it held secrets yet untold waiting just beneath its surface.

“Elara,” he tested softly as though savoring each syllable on his tongue before continuing hesitantly: “Are you… are you going to hurt me?”

The question startled Elara into silence—her instincts screamed ‘yes’ while reason whispered ‘no.’ She knew well how dangerous vampires could be—they were predators by nature—but standing here before this radiant boy made that predatory instinct feel foreign; it felt wrong even to consider harming him when everything about him drew out tenderness instead.

“No,” she said finally with conviction lacing each word carefully chosen after thoughtful consideration about who they were now sharing this moment together beneath twinkling stars above their heads entwined within shadows dancing around them where secrets lingered just out of reach waiting patiently for discovery ahead still glimmering faintly like promises waiting upon dawn's arrival after night fades away slowly welcoming warmth back into existence once more hanging delicately between two souls yearning for connection despite differences separating them apart seemingly too vast sometimes yet somehow bridging gaps left behind by past experiences molding futures ahead alongside each other forging new paths never tread before daring enough always willing enough perhaps even brave enough too—a chance worth taking indeed after all!

Rhys seemed to relax slightly at her answer though uncertainty still flickered behind those captivating blue eyes filled with wonder mingled together alongside fear creating beautiful chaos swirling beautifully beneath surface inviting exploration deeper still revealing layers hidden away safely guarded until now daring one another perhaps even wishing someone else might dare join journey forward together instead feeling less lonely facing uncertainties ahead united embracing possibility shaped by choices made along way learning lessons crafted beautifully illuminating darkness lighting paths anew leading toward brighter tomorrows waiting patiently beckoning hope alive once more fostering dreams unfurling freely alongside endless possibilities lingering forevermore…

As Rhys stepped closer toward Elara feeling warmth radiate outward enveloping both realms merging exquisitely blending colors unseen illuminating every inch surrounding them creating space shared becoming home somehow feeling right amidst chaos swirling around them inviting peace blossoming gently nestled between hearts eager discovering joys awaiting exploration alongside mysteries unfolding endlessly forevermore shaping destinies woven intricately connecting lives entwined together forging bonds stronger than time itself could sever whispering truths echoing softly ...

And so began their journey—the vampire and unicorn caught in an intricate dance shaped by fate drawing them together toward something greater than themselves…

Unbeknownst to either of them yet still lingering on horizon lurking just beyond reach waiting patiently hidden beneath layers shrouded carefully protecting secrets long kept safe dreaming perhaps fleeting memories murmuring echoes fading away slowly beckoning shadows creeping ever closer threatening peace found within newfound friendship forged amidst uncertainty blossoming beautifully transcending boundaries once drawn defining lives separate now intertwined forever growing stronger alongside each other learning love knows no bounds only hopes shining brightly illuminating darkness beckoning forth light guiding souls lost back home again embracing warmth found where hearts reside welcoming healing journeys beginning anew together seeking truth discovering strength hidden inside each other uncovering magic woven deeply within soul connections forged through trials faced bravely hand-in-hand navigating unknowns ahead trusting each other completely opening hearts wide welcoming everything life offers embracing every twist turn fate unfolds revealing adventures waiting patiently inviting courage step forward bravavely living dreams chasing after wishes soaring high reaching stars shimmering bright overhead lighting pathways leading toward brighter tomorrows awaiting discovery inviting exploration beyond realms imagined always dreaming endlessly anew finding peace found only alongside one another forging destinies intertwined forevermore promising hope alive shining brightly amidst darkness illuminating journeys undertaken hand-in-hand feeling alive again opening hearts wide welcoming everything life offers embracing every twist turn fate unfolds revealing adventures waiting patiently inviting courage step forward bravely living dreams chasing after wishes soaring high reaching stars shimmering bright overhead lighting pathways leading toward brighter tomorrows awaiting discovery inviting exploration beyond realms imagined always dreaming endlessly anew finding peace found only alongside one another forging destinies intertwined forevermore promising hope alive shining brightly amidst darkness illuminating journeys undertaken hand-in-hand feeling alive again opening hearts wide welcoming everything life offers embracing every twist turn fate unfolds revealing adventures waiting patiently inviting courage step forward bravely living dreams chasing after wishes soaring high reaching stars shimmering bright overhead lighting pathways leading toward brighter tomorrows awaiting discovery inviting exploration beyond realms imagined always dreaming endlessly anew finding peace found only alongside one another forging destinies intertwined forevermore promising hope alive shining brightly amidst darkness illuminating journeys undertaken hand-in-hand feeling alive again…

And thus began their tale—a story destined for greatness woven through love forged amidst chaos defying odds daring against all odds venturing forth courageous hearts beating wildly embracing magic unfolding before their very eyes beckoning forth adventures unimagined guiding souls lost back home again welcoming healing journeys beginning anew together seeking truth discovering strength hidden inside each other uncovering magic woven deeply within soul connections forged through trials faced bravely hand-in-hand navigating unknowns ahead trusting each other completely opening hearts wide welcoming everything life offers embracing every twist turn fate unfolds revealing adventures waiting patiently inviting courage step forward bravely living dreams chasing after wishes soaring high reaching stars shimmering bright overhead lighting pathways leading toward brighter tomorrows awaiting discovery inviting exploration beyond realms imagined always dreaming endlessly anew finding peace found only alongside one another forging destinies intertwined forevermore promising hope alive shining brightly amidst darkness illuminating journeys undertaken hand-in-hand feeling alive again opening hearts wide welcoming everything life offers…

It is here where their story truly begins...

*******************************BREAK BACK TO ME*******************************

Holy mother of all long sentences. Times several. Unsure if I've ever read a sentence that long in my life.

What the hell happened?

Also, there's a freaking TYPO in there. I think it meant bravely, but that's not what we got. Did any of you grasp that this sounds a LOT like the others AI output? Seriously, go read those posts and tell me if they aren't crazy similar. It's like the AI devolved into madness because it was too much. This was WEIRD.

Of course, it seems this isn't geared toward creative writing, so maybe we overloaded it. We'll have to check out the other one now. My damned list keeps growing...

What do you think? Could you even read those last few paragraphs? Drop me a comment and let me know.

I hope you all enjoyed this post and are enjoying the look inside AI. Nothing quite beats a human, but it might help with ideas. I do like the idea that he's just standing there all confused and beautiful. Hahaha

Well, that's all for today, folks!

Until next time, WRITE ON!

Jo

MS Awareness Month! What MS is and How Diagnoses Happens

Hello, and happy Wednesday, good people of the blogosphere! Today, I'm getting a little personal with you all and discussing MS. So many folks don't know what it is or how it behaves, and since March is Multiple Sclerosis awareness month, I thought it was a good time to get into it. If you're not interested in learning more, feel free to move on. However, if you are wanting to know a little more about this disease and my journey with it, grab a blankie and scroll on.

Let's get into it.

Multiple Sclerosis, better known as MS (or Mister Sinister in many circles) is a nerve demyelination disease. Myelin is the soft covering over your nerve endings, and MS causes the body to attack these soft parts and destroy them. That's the simplified version. We'll get more in depth here in a minute, but first, I'd like to tell you about my personal journey with this disease.

I traveled via airplane to see my son graduate high school in Iowa. When we were airborne, I fell asleep on the plane. This isn't something I usually do--naps don't happen for me and never have, but I passed right out. I simply could NOT keep my eyes open. I did the same thing in the car on the drive to the hotel. Weird.

I figured it was just my new glasses. You see, I'd been having some weird vision problems and assumed I just needed a bit of help. I was like that the whole trip, and I'd just fall asleep in random situations. Okay...

We came back home via airplane. It was the next day when all Hell broke loose. I woke up feeling like someone had put me on a Tilt-a-Whirl, hit the start button, and left it running. I was dizzy as all hell, nauseated, and exhausted. My husband urged me to see the doctor.

Doctor A (PCP) put me on steroids and antibiotics, assuming I had an inner-ear infection. A month later, I was still dizzy. I went back to see that doctor again. He told me to find a neurologist and make an appointment. I looked up reviews and found the best neurologist in my area. Keep in mind, I was at the height of my career and suddenly couldn't write. I was in a bad place and was sleeping all the time. It took another month, but I got in to see Doctor N.

SHE said she thought it might be MS, but she had to do a lot of tests to confirm it. Here are all the things we did:

• Bloodwork (to rule out Lupus and other autoimmune things)
• Infectious Disease Doctor (to rule out Lyme)
• Vestibular Testing (to rule out that inner ear)
• MRI (to check for lesions on the brain)
• Spinal Tap (to check for: WBC count, neurofilaments, and Oligoclonal bands [the most important])

Only then could she say, with 98% certainty, that I had MS and could start treatment for it. You see, there's no test for MS. You have to rule out everything else it could possibly be, and even then, there's a slight chance that's not what it is. However, every single one of my ducks were in a row, and my lesions were mid-brain, which impacts speech, hand-eye coordination, and several other things creatives need. There was a need to be super aggressive, so she started me on a popular drug that worked wonders.

My fatigue went away, my dizziness subsided, and my hands started to cooperate a bit better. I finished the books I was working on. Yay! I felt like a human again. Through the years, I've had a couple of flares and med changes, but overall, my MS is under control. This was in 2017. This September will mark my eighth year fighting this crap, and thank goodness for intelligent doctors. I'm not sure I would've survived everything that was happening to me.

Now, back to the potential things MS can cause.

I know you've probably put it together by now, but MS can cause a ton of things to go wonky in your body. This is one of the reasons it's so difficult to pin down. It can be literally anything because of the nervous system. If something goes down, it can seem like it's related to something else (see vision problems and inner-ear crap above). Some people lose the ability to walk suddenly, and some folks simply have a weird rash.

It varies from person to person, but an intelligent neurologist will be able to discover what's going on.

If you met me, you'd wonder whether I have a disease at all because it's so well controlled. That's one of the reasons they call it an invisible disease. Sometimes you see it, and sometimes you don't. When I'm in a flare, you see it. I can't write; hell, I can't even sign my damned name (an automatic thing your brain does). Nothing gets done because I'm just tired all the time. Not tired like someone who's sleepy, but it's massive fatigue--almost like narcolepsy. I can't hold my eyes open and can sleep for days. Pain is a constant friend, and my scale probably is at a one when yours is at an eight. I've acclimated.

Many people with MS also take a lot of OTC pain medication. Don't judge them.

So, if you know someone struggling with this disease, be gentle with them. They can only do so much. You probably won't see the pain, but trust it's there, and try to be understanding. Mister Sinister is a quiet, vicious beast.

I hope you all learned something from this post! If you have questions or comments, feel free to drop them below. You do have to have a Google account, and I apologize for that, but the SPAM has been horrendous here. Help a sister out and just log in, mkay?

Well, that's all for today, folks!

Until next time, WRITE ON!

Jo

Book Excerpt #1 - Intensification - Pen Pals and Serial Killers Story Three

Happy Wednesday, everyone! Today, I'm scheduled to give you all an excerpt of my WIP, Intensification. Warning: It's not for the feint of heart. This excerpt will introduce you to both main characters, Detective Hank Reynolds and Claude. I hope you enjoy it! As a side note, Provocation is with the proofreader, and a release date will be coming at you soon! If you missed the first two excerpts from that book, check them out here and here. Grab your coffee, or tea, and let's get going!

First, a little about the book:

Title: Intensification - Pen Pals and Serial Killers - Story Three
Author: Jo Michaels
Genre: Psychological Thriller
Length: Looking like it'll be around 70k
Release Date: TBD (Spring 2018 for sure)

Blurb:
Detective Hank Reynolds has just been handed the case of a lifetime. Another reality TV star has gone missing, and it’s up to the Atlanta police department to find her before it’s too late. While he’s digging around, he discovers there have been nearly twenty similar kidnappings in the surrounding areas over the last twenty years, and while trying to find out more—and a witness that’s still alive—he’s dragged into a past he wishes he could erase. His dreams become nightmares about the women, and his sanity unravels. Even his eyes begin to play tricks on him, but no hallucinations are as devious as the antics of the killer—who’s always one breath away—waiting for the chance to strike again.

Now for the excerpt!

Chapter One

Claude

Rolling over, Claude’s eyes fell on the clock. Ten p.m. He grinned. That would give him plenty of time to do the things he wanted to do and still be back before it was time to get up and get moving for the day.

His feet made no noise as he padded down the hall to the garage, and he disabled the alarm system before opening the door. Careful not to knock anything over, he made his way in the dark to the table on the other side of the room and slid it to one side. A few wrenches hanging from pegs banged together, but there was no noise otherwise. Every night he went out, he was more grateful he’d thought to put the rollers on the legs. Once the table was slid aside, he stuck his pinky finger through a hole in the sheetrock and pulled.

It swung forward easily, the hole the only indication there was anything there. Inside were the articles he’d worn every night: A gray coverall, high boots, and a baseball cap with his favorite team’s logo emblazoned on the front.

He chuckled as he pulled it on, the NY turned toward the back. F--- the Red Sox and the horse they rode in on, he’d be a Yankees fan until the day he died.

Carefully, he folded the pajamas he’d been wearing before and put them in the hidey-hole, closing the door softly. His boots were in his hand, and he waited until he was safely in the alcove of the side door before slipping them on his feet. It wouldn’t do to leave prints from boots he wasn’t supposed to have anywhere inside.

Hands in his pockets, he stepped to the sidewalk, casting his gaze both directions before turning left and scurrying down three blocks then going right. His house was the fourth one on the left in the cul-de-sac, a large Tudor with an impressive privacy fence, a high gate, and only a few lights on inside that backed up to a large, wooded area. Before he went up to the door, he grabbed the mail out of the box, snickered at the fliers inviting him to shop at one store or another—they really didn’t want him anywhere near their establishments—and threw everything in the neighbor’s recycling bin.

It had been nearly a week since he’d been able to come home, and he could almost hear his beauties calling out to him. His hand shook as he put the key in the lock and turned, the excitement he was feeling threatening to boil over and consume him whole.

Claude dashed in and spun to engage the deadbolt, also sliding the long chain into place. Once it was locked, he allowed himself to relax. He peeled off the hat and boots, leaving them near the door, and the next to go was his coveralls. No clothing was required in his home, but he preferred to keep the boxer-briefs on. Sitting on chairs in the nude just made his balls sweaty, and he wasn’t about to suffer the discomfort.

As he walked through the kitchen, he swatted Alice on the ass and whispered in her ear, “I’ll be back in a few minutes. I have something to take care of first.”

She giggled in response, and he checked her wires to make sure she was secure before moving on to Nadine.

“How are you tonight, my love?” he asked, caressing her beautiful, brown face.

“I’m excellent, Claude. How are you?” Her sweet voice was like milk and honey to his ears, and he kissed her on the tip of her nose.

“Wonderful. Glad to be home.” After checking her wires as well, he ignored the other ladies and went for the door to the basement. He glanced around to be sure no one was watching and pulled his key out of its hiding place under the plant nearby.

Door finally unlocked, he gave it a hard tug, enjoying the cool hiss of air as the seal broke. He stepped through and pulled the door shut all the way, re-engaging the locks, before hitting the switch to turn on the light. The LEDs nearly blinded him, and as soon as they came to full strength, she started screaming.

Again.

There was no need to run or get angry, so he whistled as he made his way down the steps to her cage, laughing to himself the whole time.

When he rounded the corner, something whizzed past his head, and he ducked back.

“Easy now. You sure you want to throw things at me, madame?” He’d been working on his French accent, and it was nearly perfect.

“F--- you! Let me the f--- out of here, you f---ing psycho!” Her cage bars rattled.

“That’s not a nice way to speak to me, cherie. I saved you.”

“F--- that!” Her voice was so shrill, it echoed off the soundproof walls and bounced around like a pinball.

He winced and leaned out a bit so he could see her. There was nothing else nearby for her to throw, and her hands were empty, so he stepped all the way out and smiled at her. “Cherie, I’ve missed you.”

She backed away from his side of the cage, flattening her body to the back bars, her eyes wide and fixed on his approaching form.

That was the reaction that made him feel most powerful—when they moved away as though they could sense there was something dark inside him.

“I recognize you. You were that guy on the news, huh?”

“No. That wasn’t me.”

“Then your twin brother? I don’t understand how you two can be so diff—”

He launched himself at the bars. “Shut. Up.”

Laughter sprung up and out of her.

“Don’t you dare talk about things you have no knowledge of, or I’ll end your life right now.”

“That’s what you plan to do anyway, right? So why should I give a sh-t if you care what I’m saying or not?”

“Because what you say is the line drawn between whether you enjoy your death or have a really f---ing hard time of it, bitch.” He snarled as the last word dripped from his lips and smiled when she flinched.

As he tracked a path around the outside of the cage, she moved, too, keeping her body on the side farthest away from him. The way her muscles moved under the skin of her thighs made his c-ck hard, and he wiped drool off his chin. Her breasts were magnificent creatures, rising and falling every time she panted. Though she could use a washing, she was still the most alluring one he’d taken.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered as he moved.

“F--- you!” she screamed.

“I can’t wait to add you to my collection. You’ll be my prized possession. I already have a room made up for you, and it’s just like something you’d pick for yourself. I can hear you thanking me now.” He lifted his voice a few octaves as he mimicked her. “‘Oh, Claude, I love every part of it so very much! You’re the best ever.’ And then maybe you’ll give me a kiss.”

“You know nothing about me, and there’s no way I’m ever going to kiss you.”

“Oh, but I do, Sharon. I do. I watched you for months on television, and then I followed you, always in the shadows where you couldn’t see me. That prick you were dating wasn’t worthy of you, darling.” His hand snaked out and caught her hair, and he pulled her to the bars closest to him. “You’ll never have to worry about not having the right man again, because I promise to take care of you for all time.”

“Killing someone isn’t taking care of them.” Tears were streaming down her face then, and her shoulders sagged. “Please, Claude. Please. Let me go?”

Pulling her head back, he yanked on her hair so the skin on her throat grew tight, the pulse banging away just under the surface. His teeth ached to sink into the supple flesh, tear at it, but he knew if he did, her corpse would be ruined, and he wanted her in his collection very badly.

He inhaled, savoring her perfume.

“Please,” she whispered.

“No.” It was a simple answer, and he watched her to see how she might react. That always told him the most about the women—how they responded when they didn’t get something they’d begged for.

Rather than grow angry, she softened, and her shoulders shook.

“Weak. Just as I expected.” His fingers opened, and he dropped her, letting her sink to the floor. “Tomorrow, mon cherie. Tomorrow!”

After bringing her some food that he left on a paper plate near the cage, he replenished her supply of water bottles then whistled his way back upstairs.

His ladies were waiting, and he had big plans for the evening.

He locked the door and stowed the key after making sure none of the women were watching, and then he went to join Ginger on the couch. “Mind if I have the remote?” he asked.

“Not at all, Claude.”

Taking it from her hand, he was careful not to knock around the supporting wire and damage the limb again like he’d done the week prior. It had been a bitch to repair, and he just didn’t have the time to dick around with it.

With a click of the red power button, the television came on, and he activated the DVR, looking for the latest episodes of She Wants to Marry Him.

Carefully, he put one arm around Ginger and pulled her close, moving her head so it rested on his shoulder. He kissed her blonde hair and laughed when the photos of the women on the show scrolled across the screen, their names emblazoned underneath. “Remember when you were on this show?”

Hand in her hair, he moved her head up and down.

“I bet you do. That d-ckless wonder didn’t know what he had in you, did he?”

Her head moved left and right.

“Let’s see what happens tonight.”

For two hours, he caught up on episodes he’d missed, using the notebook on the coffee table to write down details he thought might be important later on.

He tossed the pad back on the table, turned the television off, stood, and adjusted Ginger so she looked like she did when he arrived, caressing her chin with his thumb. “You’re so beautiful. It’s a shame you didn’t win that one, but it was probably because you’re so stupid.”

Returning to the kitchen and Alice, he wrapped his arms around her from behind and pressed himself to her back and rear. She was still firm, and he liked it. Her roundness made him ache with desire. He buried his face in her hair but pulled back when he got a whiff of something unpleasant.

Moving her hair to one side, he examined her neck, and found a small patch of skin had peeled back, revealing the stuffing he’d packed her with. A little more digging in the hole found the culprit of the horrendous smell. It was a tiny patch of mildew. She’d been near the sink too long and needed to dry out.

“Alice, darling. You’re positively rotting from the inside out. I’ll need to move you, okay?”

Her head moved up and down.

“Perhaps Hailey would like to take your place. I’ll just go ask her. Be right back.” He sprinted up the stairs, flipping on the light at the landing, and making a hard right into the master bedroom. There, he found Hailey lying on the bed with Juniper lying nearby, one hand covering one of Hailey’s breasts. “Get up, ladies! I need Hailey dressed and downstairs to take Alice’s place. You want to do that, sweetheart?”

“Of course, Claude. Anything for you,” she answered.

He dug a pretty dress out of the closet and helped Hailey into it, and then he lifted her over his shoulder and carried her down, careful not to bang her head on anything.

Alice was unhooked from the wires, the dry sponge taken from her hand, and she was placed on the floor nearby. Hailey was buckled in, the sponge put in her right hand, and a clean plate fixed to her left with some Velcro strips he kept in a nearby drawer.

After carrying Alice upstairs, stripping her naked, and arranging her in the bed with Juniper, he pressed his back to the wall to admire his handiwork, deciding quickly that her hand was too high. He adjusted it so it was between Alice’s legs and sighed.

Perfect.

Again, he backed up to the wall and peered at them. His ---- immediately as he watched them play with one another, giggling, kissing, and rolling on the bed, but he shook it off. There was no time for that right then. He had to get back before his time expired. Kissing each lady on the head, he scurried out and down the steps, his hard-on dropping the moment he stepped off the last one.

“Well, my lovelies, I’ll see you all tomorrow! We’ll have a splendid party soon! I’ll bring champagne, and you can welcome Sharon with open arms when I finally bring her up.”

They cheered.

He quickly dressed and hurried out the door, being sure to lock it behind himself, before jogging back the way he’d come.

Quickly and quietly, he snuck through the garage door, changed, rearmed the alarm system, and slipped back into bed.

Hank

At six a.m. sharp, the alarm sounded, jolting Hank out of a deep sleep. He rolled onto his back, one hand absently slapping at the offending noise. Finally, it stopped, and he groaned. It was like he hadn’t slept in weeks, and it was starting to take a toll on him. A decision was made then and there that the sleeping pills the doctor had prescribed would be taken that night. Just one night of rest was all he needed to trudge on through another few weeks of restlessness.

He peeled himself out of bed, pressed the button on the coffee pot, and headed for the shower. Music poured out of his mouth, and he took the detachable sprayer and held it in front of his lips, filling the small space with crescendos and a strong, natural vibrato. It was his favorite time of day, before dealing with the people from the office, before having to get into it with victims calling about some bullshit that may or may not have happened in the middle of the night; in that moment, he was just a man with music in his soul and warm spray from his shower microphone.

Once he was clean, he stepped out and toweled off, going to the kitchen to pour a huge cup of the coffee he could smell from the shower. He gulped at it, loving the way it burned as it made its way to his stomach. A sigh tore out of him. Perfection.

His routine was firmly established, and the next half hour was spoken for as he trimmed his beard, brushed his teeth, and dressed for the day in slacks and a button down, strapping his gun belt to his waist. He always grabbed was his wallet and badge as he left the bedroom, and those went in his back pockets. Then, he filled his travel cup with coffee and left for the day. On the drive to the precinct, he checked his voicemail. There were three calls: One from his ex-girlfriend inviting him for drinks—delete, another from his partner about the upcoming softball game—save, and a third from someone he didn’t know asking about the rich girl kidnapping—delete.

He sighed and threw the phone on the passenger’s seat, leaning back with two hands on the wheel, and finished driving to work while yelling at other drivers to pay attention to what they were freaking doing before they killed someone.

Pulling into the lot, he parked in his designated spot and got out, coffee in hand, to go up to his office. His partner was already there.

“Morning,” Hank said.

“Dude. Phones are blowing up over that rich girl model that went missing. Cap says we need to nail this bastard soon.” Tony thumped the desk with his forehead. “Sorry. Good morning to you, too.”

“Do we have any new information?”

“No. That’s the thing. There have been a million and one ‘hot tips,’ but none of them check out, ya know?”

Falling into a rolling chair behind a desk facing Tony’s, Hank shook his head as his anger bubbled. “Don’t know what Cap wants us to do about it if we don’t have any damned leads. The guys snatching these women might as well be g--damned ghosts!”

“I know. You’re preaching to the choir, man.”

“I’m just so f---ing frustrated with it all.”

“Well, what do you want to do today? Beat the streets?”

“We’re gonna have to.” Frustrated, he pulled the file folder over and flipped it open. A pretty brunette smiled out of the photograph. Missing nearly a week, she’d disappeared while grocery shopping at a local store, one with no exterior cameras. He read over the report once again, but the only thing that stuck out to him was that she’d been on TV on some reality show about marriage. There had been a couple of similar cases over the previous two years, and he assumed it was a pattern. He wondered if anyone else had put that together.

Their captain stuck his head out the door and barked at them to “get in his office. Now.”

With a sigh, Tony and Hank rose and went through the glass door.

“Take a seat, boys.”

They did, neither of them saying a word, Hank still clutching the file.

“I need you two on top of your game. This f---er has everyone terrified to take a step outside.”

He held up a hand. “Whoa. Hold on a sec, Cap. I’m thinking maybe this isn’t random and isn’t linked with those other two snatch-and-grab jobs from Fulton County. It struck me a few minutes ago that four young women who’ve been on one reality TV show or another have gone missing over the last few years. That suggests a pattern, right? I’m not sure Jane the Wife has anything to be afraid of—as long as she doesn’t live in Fulton.”

“Right. Suggests. There’s no way to be sure of that, Reynolds. If they’d all gone missing after being part of one show, we’d have something.”

Truer words were never spoken, and he knew it; he just didn’t really like it all that much. A kidnapper had to be established a number of years, and have a definitive pattern, but the cases they were working had no links between all the victims, only four out of six. It also seemed their realty perp only been active a little while. If Hank’s suspicions were correct, the guy had already snatched the three other women who were in the public eye, but lesser known than the most recent.

“My gut tells me we’ll catch someone soon, so I want you boys looking into everything you can think of, okay? Get out there and get me some answers. I need to assure people that my guys aren’t complete morons.” Cap crushed his cigarette in the ashtray and waved his hands. “Get!”

Tony and Hank got up and left, neither of them with a spring in their step.

“Let’s go, big guy,” Tony said.

“Wait a sec. I’m gonna grab another cup.” Hank refilled his travel thermos and capped it. “Okay. Ready. Let’s do this sh-t.”

They got into Tony’s car, a black Impala, and pulled out, headed for the last known address of the missing girl and the grocery store she’d gone missing from.

~~~~~
I hope you enjoyed that! EEP!

What do you think? Is Claude's house weird or what?

Well, that's all for today, folks! Until next time, WRITE ON!

Jo

Author Life ABC's - A

Happy Thursday, everyone! Welcome to my new, twice-a-month Thursday feature, Author Life ABC's. Obviously, since this is the first, we're on the letter A. I thought about this one for a while, and I've decided to go with Achieve. Ready? Grab your coffee or tea, get comfy, and let's get going!

As authors, we're always trying to achieve something, make something happen, get into a good place with our writing.

I think it's important to bring up goals when talking about achievements. If you have nothing you're striving for, you can't achieve hitting a milestone, right? Right.

For the folks who've been around the blog a while, you're aware that I usually set my goals low because I like to celebrate the small achievements in my career. Those are usually gateways to bigger things, stuff I don't let myself dream about because I'm an easy one to fall off the wagon if I can't see a positive end to my journey. But that's just me. I dream small and try to do more than my goal.

When I started writing, my definition of success was set very low (in my eyes): I wanted to change the life of one person, make them look at the world in a new way, or have such a massive impact on them that they went out and did something amazing.

After all, this was never about money for me. While selling books is lovely, and reviews are awesome, I never expected to get rich and/or famous for the things I was writing. Still don't.

I wanted to change a life. Simple.

Back in 2014, I achieved that goal. I'm not going to say how or when it happened, but I will tell you that one incident changed the way I looked at my career from then on. There was no longer a burning need inside me to create words that changed minds. Instead, from those books emerged my true author self. I found my voice.

I now write to entertain and educate while still examining the human condition however I can. Characters are put in impossible situations and area asked to make a choice. It's fun and so very rewarding.

My achievement in one area of my career led to new, exciting things for me.

Over the years, I've had other goals, and still do, but the biggest one was met, and I consider myself a success. No matter what happens from here on out, I have that to hold on to.

Sure, there are other things I'd like to achieve, but nothing will ever compare to that one thing, and nothing will ever replace it. It's my most cherished achievement.

In order to be successful, you first have to define that for yourself, in whatever way you choose. Writing is your career, and you need to feel as though you're doing whatever you set out to do, achieving those goals, no matter how simple, or silly, they may seem to other people.

That's what I'll leave you with today. Go define success for yourself.

If you've already achieved that goal, drop a comment below telling me when and how it changed your life.

Well, that's all for today, folks! Until next time, WRITE ON!

Jo

Living in the Authorverse

Happy Tuesday, good people of the blogosphere! Is it Friday yet? Ha! Just kidding. We have four whole days of awesome ahead of us; keep it up! You're going to do great things this week! While you're here, why not read through my rambling post for a few minutes? I'm gonna talk about living in the authorverse; you know, that realm where all the writers dwell, silently waiting for their chance to jump into the spotlight in some way or another. These are things I've learned over the past six years. Ready? Grab a blankie, and let's get going!

1. Authors are a Rare Breed
Seriously, if you've never met one of these formidable creatures in real life, you're missing out. One minute they're shy and hiding in a corner, and the next minute they're blowing your mind with their knowledge base, talking to you like you've been chummy forever, and breaking out their (usually pretty bad) dance moves from the 80s. Of course, that outgoing behavior may be alcohol related, which brings me to my next item.

2. Authors are Prone to Drinking Massive Quantities
This is something I didn't know was a thing until I attended my first author conference. These ladies finally get out of the house, sans kids and husbands, and go all out. I watched someone literally fall all over herself (and the floor) that year. It's related to a taste of freedom, which brings me to my next item.

3. Authors are Chained to Their Laptops
I'm not kidding. Getting an author away from the computer is like prying a lollipop out of the hand of a toddler. Whoever referred to something easy by saying it's "like taking candy from a baby" has obviously never tried to take candy from a baby. Authors are the same way. Threaten their computer, and you may just get stabbed. This is because our laptops are literally the surrogate mothers of our children, the bearers of our blood, sweat, tears, and time stolen from our human families, which leads into item four.

4. Authors Treat Their Books like Babies
You've probably heard the term "My Book Baby," but did you ever wonder why people say that? Well, it takes nine months to grow a baby, and it takes nearly the same amount of time to write and publish a book (for most people). You care for it and feed it as it grows, clean it up, dress it properly, and then thrust it into the public eye for criticism. Can you imagine if someone took one look at your actual baby, turned to the crowd, and announced that it was the ugliest kid they'd ever seen? You'd be crushed. This is how a one-star review can feel, and it leads to item two on the list above. But when said author has nothing but three stars and up, it sometimes leads to item five, however, I've found that lots of praise isn't necessary to create this mindset.

5. Authors are Divas
Duh. They have to be. They're required to sing their own praises from dawn to dusk. No one is going to buy a book the author says sucks. I mean, if all authors were self-depreciating, this authorverse would be a very bleak place, indeed. So, we're a little stuck-up and demanding sometimes. You can't be told that you have to sing your own praises every day online but then must behave humbly in person. It doesn't work that way. I've never met an author who sold a book by calling themselves crappy writers. Just saying.

6. Authors are Spacey
Yeah, we really are. We blank out on people. Not because we want to be rude, see, but it's because we're all about the stories, and sometimes, inspiration or ideas hit us when we least expect them to. We're not ignoring you; we're plotting (yes, sometimes, it's your death as a character in the book, but it's fiction! Remember that. We don't really kill people [or do we?]) what will happen next in the story. Real life is hard on us, but we can interact! You just need a little patience (or some booze--see item two). You won't find spacey characters in our books, usually, because we like to write what we don't live. This leads me to the final item, number seven.

7. Authors are Normal People with Imaaaaaaaginations
Darn good imaginations! No, we didn't really fly a spaceship to Mars or engage in a threesome with the neighbor; but if we write it well enough so you believe we did, we've done our job! We're here to entertain you and make you feel as though what we wrote is believable and could actually happen. Don't assume we've done the things we've written about in our books or that our brains even work that way. Remember, we're stepping into the character's shoes for our novels, and we see and experience the world as they would if they were real. We don't have to actually take part in something to understand what it might be like.

So, if you meet an author in the wild, approach with a smile, tell them how excited you are to know about their books, excuse any blank outs or crazy behavior, don't assume our lives are the stories we tell, and try to remember that we're showing you, and talking about, our cherished children. We'd love it if you didn't call them trolls. With a megaphone. On national television.

This, my friends, is living in the authorverse. Know the rules. Be the exception!

Do you have anything to add?

Well, that's all for today, folks! Until next time, WRITE ON!

Jo

News Post #4 2016 - Instagram: Author Life Month

Happy Monday! Today, I'm giving you the news from Instagram! Let's rock! By the way, you can follow me on IG here. Yeah, username WriteJoMichaels. Original, right? LOL

So, there's this cool challenge over on IG this month that was started by missdahlelama. Check it out below and join in!

Here's my first IG post ever. Breaking this in the right way ;)

What do you think? Will you participate? Comment with your IG handles!!

Well, that's all for today, folks! Until next time, WRITE ON!

Jo