It's all about setting and characterization, at least it is for me. I've been writing fiction, mostly romance, for so long I no longer have any other marketable skills but that's all right because there's nothing I'd rather do than create worlds out of the mess going on inside my head. And yes, when I'm in the planning, plotting stage, it's all a fascinating mess. I both envy and distrust writers who say their books plot themselves because it's never been like that for me.
Vella Munn
Mostly I start with a feeling, a restlessness and excitement that can be satisfied only by mentally and emotionally going someplace that speaks to me. At the same time, I'm being visited by whispers from the characters that are coming to life inside me.
I started hearing from Winter Barstow, the heroine in my paranormal romantic suspense Death Chant years ago. She needed someone to listen to her and had chosen me. I've written a number of Native American historicals so wasn't surprised when a modern day Native American woman started begging me to give her a chance. All Winter knew about herself was that when she was around five, she was found wandering alone in Barstow California in the winter. She spent her childhood bouncing from foster home to foster home trying to deal with the empty spaces inside her. Then she took a university anthropology course from a professor who 'got' her. Doc, as she called him, understood those empty spaces and encouraged her to embrace her heritage. She thought she was doing that by following in his footsteps, but she was low woman on the academic totem pole.
Then Doc goes to the Olympic National Forest in Washington State to do some on-site work. Soon after he sends her an authentic ceremonial mask that depicts a wolf and the story is off to the races. The wolf mask more than whispers to Winter. It howls. She becomes obsessed by it and is desperate to learn more about its origin.
Only she can't contact Doc. He has disappeared somewhere in the massive rainforest full of old growth trees. The forest is managed by the forest service, including sexy Native American ranger Jay Raven. Jay has everything Winter doesn't, mostly an undeniable sense of who he is and where he came from. Jay is at home in the moody, broody wilderness. He knows where the most remote trails are and where there are no trails. He accepts the deep shadows and frequent rainfall. This is where his ancestors hunted and lived. His roots.
But there are things Jay doesn't comprehend-like what has happened to Doc who he doesn't trust and where the haunting wolf howls are coming from. Just because Winter is a beautiful young women doesn't mean he will open up to her.
Neither Winter or Jay comprehend the forces that draw them together, their attraction for each other despite their very different upbringings and agendas. One thing they soon have no doubt of. Beautiful as it is, the forest is also a deadly place.
Death Chant was a long time coming together for a number of reasons including the mystery I incorporated into it, but it was a deeply satisfying journey. I hope Winter agrees that I brought her to life and Jay acknowledges that his complexities made it into the story. I also hope readers realize how much of my heart Olympic National Forest has claimed. It's an incredible place.
