Welcome Barbara Donlon Bradley

I am a pantser and I’m proud of it. My plotting friends look at me like I’m out of my mind. They don’t know how I can work that way. But it seems to be the way my brain works. A perfect example is the book due out within a few weeks. The very first scene came to me in a dream. I saw my hero standing on a car, shirtless, with a bunch of women pawing at him. The heroine saw him and turned and walked away but she found herself turning to look back at him. The look that happened between them was so powerful when I woke up the next morning I started writing. I had no idea if there would be anything else but I had to put that scene to paper before I lost it.

But it didn’t stop at the one scene. It just started coming to me, scene after scene. What amazed me the most was how I was driven to get this book onto the page. I wrote it in three weeks. It was a rough draft, or the bones of the story so to speak, but I had never written anything so fast. The characters drove this. They woke me up in the middle of the night with how they wanted their story told. When I was at work, scenes would play in my head to help me let the manuscript flow.

And I probably made a fool of myself while I worked because I have a tendency to talk out loud when thinking. Thank goodness I didn’t say any dialog…at least I don’t think I did. But the scenes kept coming. I’d stay up late trying to get the words down as fast as I could. I never took typing class and tried the Mavis Bacon program, but wasn’t very good at it. I use the hunt and peck method. I’m pretty fast at it now and can even stare at the screen and not the keys without making too many mistakes. Of course you didn’t see how many times I had to correct my spelling because I hit the wrong key while trying to write this paragraph without looking at the keys. So much for honesty.

So back to my writer friends who are plotters. They ask how can I just write without knowing what scene goes where. How do I know where the story is going? What if I get stuck? How can I leave everything to chance? But it is okay – I can’t figure out how they can sit there and plot their manuscript, knowing each scene and what will be in it before they write a word. I see it as writing your book before you write your book. I like the thrill of where the story takes me. I want to know what my friends do if their book takes a turn all that plotting didn’t expect? Do you follow the turn or force it to follow your plot points? Doesn’t that take the fun out of it? It would for me.

I always know how my story starts and I know how it is going to end. The middle part gets a little murky but it always works out for me. My scenes come to me as I write but I’ve done some thinking on this and believe there isn’t that much between this pantser and my plotting friends. I still have to plot out my ideas, but I do it mentally. I think about what comes next as I work on the present scene. I do a lot of driving in my day job so I have time to think through plot points, upcoming scenes and things I might have forgotten about in previously written ones.

But I work my way through what comes next and why, or what I forgot, just like any plotter, I just do it while I write. If I have a problem with a scene, or the way the story has forked off from my original idea, my mind works through it when I’m not paying attention. I’ll have an epiphany in the middle of a store, or at a stoplight. I’m sure that’s fun to watch if you have no clue why I suddenly start jumping up and down.

This has always worked for me. My brain likes the creativity aspect of this process. Maybe it’s because I used to draw and paint so starting with a blank canvas is exciting to me. In painting, the scene starts to develop as you add color and style. Big bold brushstrokes or small intricate ones build the scene you want. Oils allow you to work on one picture over and over because they take a long time to dry. You can paint a corner, leave it and comeback and mix more color to it. Acrylic dries quickly, but if you don’t like the image you created you can paint over it because the paint has already dried. It’s like writing. You can write the scene, let it sit, then comeback and add to it to make it more realistic, or you can paint over the whole thing and start a new.

I found writing and realized it was the perfect medium for me. I still paint a picture, but with words. Pantsing is my style. My creative juices flow best when I write. Things pop into my head as I work on my stories. Plotting it out, and believe me I have tried that, it makes me antsy. My fingers itch to touch a keyboard before I can even get the index cards out. So I’ll remain a pantser. I found something that works for me and I’m going to stick to it.

Writing for Barbara Donlon Bradley  started innocently enough, like most she kept diaries, journals, and wrote an occasional letter but she also had a vivid imagination and wrote scenes and short stories adding characters to her favorite shows and comic books. As time went on she found the passion for writing to be a strong drive for her. Humor is also very strong in her life. No matter how hard she tries to write something deep and dark, it will never happen. That humor bleeds into her writing. Since she can’t beat it she has learned to use it to her advantage. Now she lives in Tidewater Virginia with two cats, one mother in law – she’s 84 now, her husband and teenage son.

Newest release!

Dominated By Desire

Publisher – Phaze

Tentative Release date 10/25/11

Blurb:

Heather can’t believe she is the only person on Earth that can protect Storm, the ambassador from Vespia. It has something to do with some pheromone the Vespian male exudes. Although everyone tells her she is immune she doesn’t agree. There is something about the man that makes her desire skyrocket whenever she is around him.

Storm finds the Heather fascinating, bright violet eyes that hold a world of emotions in them. He finds himself drawn to her, wanting her with a depth he never experienced before. When she becomes the focal point of several kidnapping attempts he realizes she’s going to need his protection, the perfect excuse to get to know her better.

Excerpt:

UNEDITED PROOF

Chapter 1

Heather stood next to her commander, going over everything she had learned about the Vespian society so far. He wanted to be sure she was ready for her next assignment. She found the idea of guarding the ambassador a bit boring but she’d done it before and it shouldn’t be a long one. The man was only to be on Earth for a short period of time.

Her first glimpse of the Vespian ambassador caught her off guard. She wasn’t sure what she expected but it wasn’t seeing him coming in like some sort of rockstar. Shirt missing, exposing tight, well worked abs, along with well muscled shoulders and arms. He was the stuff of most women’s wet dreams and he dressed the part.

“That is the ambassador?” she couldn’t keep the shock out of her voice. His jet black hair had a bit of a blue shine to it and he kept running his fingers through it like he wanted to draw attention to it.

“I know it isn’t what you expect but he is doing this for charity.” He commander’s voice was laced with a touch of laughter. “From what I hear he was talked into this. They wanted him to be one of the dates for this auction but he refused.”

All she could do was stare. The women surrounding him were practically throwing themselves at him. Reaching to touch whatever they could. Giggles and groans filled the air as hands made contact with his muscled arms and legs.

How was she going to work with him now that she had seen this? She wasn’t sure if she could work with him with this flashing in her mind all the time.

Those women who were able to touch him tried to pull him toward them but luckily he had anchored himself well plus had plenty of protection to keep them at bay. She was sure he reveled in the attention. He had a smile that could melt a polar ice cap.

“If it’s all right with you, sir, I’ll wait for this to end elsewhere.” She didn’t really want to see anymore. If she was to treat him with any kind of professionalism it would be smart for her to find another place to wait inside the embassy.

“That’s fine. This shouldn’t take very long.”

Heather turned around and climbed the steps to the large double doors. Her title of ice princess fit her well at this moment. Where most women would enjoy watching this display but it just made her uncomfortable.

Not being able to stop herself she turned one last time to watch the spectacle and found him staring right at her. Everything disappeared during that moment. Nothing else existed but the two of them connecting through the throng of the crowd. The moment she realized she was starting to attract attention she broke eye contact and walked into the building.

What had just happened?

Her heart beat hard in her chest. No one ever affected her. That was one of the reasons she was brought in. Where all the other women had ended up sleeping with the man she’d be immune.

She needed something to calm herself down.

Meditation normally worked for her but she needed someplace quite and empty. As she looked she found just about every room occupied. She nodded and smiled as she entered and then left different rooms.

It took a few minutes but she did find a quiet corridor. All she needed was a small alcove and a few minutes. She heard footsteps and sighed. Not this time. She turned back to find herself face to face with the ambassador.

Being this close to him set her body on fire. His gaze trapped her. Heating her from the inside out. Training kept her from crumbling at his feet.

“Sorry, mistress, but this is the ambassador’s wing. No one is allowed down it but him and his most trusted guards.”

She found herself drowning in his eyes. They were a golden tone with a deep amber ring around the edge. She had never seen anything like it.

Tearing her gaze from his, she blinked a couple times before she could focus on the man who spoke to her. “I am sorry. Guess I got a little lost.”

“Of course.” The man bowed to her. “One of these men will take you to your room.”

“Thank you.” She steadied herself and followed the man down the hall. It took every ounce of will power to not turn around to look at him again.