I was scrolling through my blog this morning and realized that it’s been quite a while since I’ve said much of anything about Book III.
I’ve been blogging about other people’s work, birthday parties, and life in general so much that I just kind of forgot about mentioning that little thing called THE SANCTUM TRILOGY!
So what’s the scoop? The latest dish?
Well, I can say that Book III is definitely the hardest of the three to write and I think that’s for a few reasons:
- I’m sad to say goodbye to Dev, Wyatt, and the gang
- I’m overwhelmed by everything I need to accomplish in this book – sometimes I sit back and ask myself how the fuck long is this sucker going to be?!!
- I’m avoiding doing bad things to characters I love – and that’s all I’m going to say about that
Here are a few other things I can say about Book III:
- There are some new characters, but that is to be expected as the Magical world gears up for an epic war
- I’ve got a few surprises, one that was planned from the very beginning, another that came to me in an interview I did for The Girl
- Sex is always fun to write so there’s plenty of it thrown around
- There will be more Coco
- I know how the book, and in essence the trilogy, ends but I’m not sure about the ending for certain characters. I’m going to see where the writing takes me and hope everyone lives…
And now, since I’m feeling nice, and am happy you stopped by to see what I’m up to, I’ll give you a Book III snippet:
Footsteps echoed in the hallway above, heavy-sounding and masculine; not the feminine tip tap of a high-heeled shoe, but the purposeful march of a boot. He listened until they faded away in the direction of the kitchen, someone seeking a late-night bite. Assured he would not be bothered by another, he continued on his way, the dank darkness never once giving him pause, so familiar was the route.
Every night he came down here, methodically checking the cells and their captives. Tonight he glimpsed a dying nymph, two incredibly angry and awfully strong-willed trolls and another twenty or so fae, their nameless faces becoming a big, fae blur in his mind. He made a mental note to kill the whole lot of them in the morning, for he had tired of their antics and pleas.
It would be nice to clean house and start anew.
A sentiment that perfectly complimented his current situation. A dead child and a newly-returned wife defined “starting anew” like nothing else. It was as if he was being given a second shot at his life and this go round he had every intention of emerging the victor, a complete and utter success.
Which meant he needed that girl.
And he needed her dead, with her head removed from her body and everything burnt to a crisp.
No coming back. No regeneration. Just death.
Then he could turn his attentions to the Clayworth boy.
The Ramyan Warrior.
That word sent a chill down his spine like no other, for now all the pieces of the true prophecy were in place.
That’s all for now.