The Black Dagger Brotherhood_ An Insider's Guide - J. R. Ward [58]
As I said, the resolution surprised me—and was a source of great relief. When I was outlining the book, I got to the scene with Rhage and the Scribe Virgin, when all appeared to be lost, and I wanted to bang my head into my monitor. I mean, I was writing paranormal ROMANCE. And the only way separation works at the end of a ROMANCE is if it involves ditching a nasty mother-in-law. I was in an absolute panic, as I couldn’t see how the two of them were going to get an HEA together.
Except they did, thanks to the credible surprise.
Strong conflict and resolutions that are satisfying and not obvious are the name of the game. The problem is, at least for me, I’m never sure until I’m finished getting the scenes in my head outlined whether both halves are going to present themselves. To be honest, I have no clue where my ideas come from, and I feel as if I complete each story by the skin of my teeth. The endings are always a Hail Mary for me, because I never know for certain whether the magic is going to happen. I feel lucky and grateful when it does, but do not take for granted that such boons will come again.
A couple of other things about Rhage’s book. After I got through with his outline and started writing him, I felt like something was wrong. The tone struck me as different from Wrath’s story. The vibe was just . . . well, more Rhage, less Wrath.
To me, this was a little alarming. I guess I thought all the books would feel the same as I wrote them, but they haven’t, and along the way I’ve learned that a series shouldn’t be about identical. Similar context, sure. Same cast of folks, absolutely. But each story is going to have its own rhythm and pace and zeitgeist. Wrath’s had a real sharp edge on it, with quick, nimble pacing and pared-down dialogue. Rhage’s struck me as softer and more romantic, funnier, too, with more sex in it. Z’s book was dark all around. Butch’s tone was closer to Wrath’s, with its edge, and there was a lot of the world in it. V’s vibe was sleek and uncluttered and a little dangerous. Phury’s was romantic and evocative and warm.
Which brings me to rule eight: Listen to your Rice Krispies.
I don’t know where my ideas come from. The pictures in my head have always been there, and they are in charge. I didn’t want Rhage as book number two, but he was. I wanted Rhage’s tone to be just like Wrath’s. It wasn’t. I didn’t know how Rhage and Mary were going to end up with each other for centuries considering he was a vampire and she was not. They did. (And P.S., I wanted Lover Eternal’s writing process to be easier, because I’d just spent nine months getting the world straight. It was just as tough, only in a different way. More on that later.)
All went well and goes well, though, because I let what’s in my head be the driver. Even when I get lost, I trust the stories . . . largely because I don’t have a choice. What I’m shown is always infinitely better than what I try to deliberately construct.
Here’s a minor example of how I listened to my Rice Krispies when it came to Rhage’s book. As I started to write Lover Eternal, Vishous, keeper of visions of the future, popped up and told Rhage that he ended up with a virgin. When I saw this, I was like, Er . . . that’s going to be kind of tough, given that Mary’s been with someone before she met Hollywood. Still, I was like, Okay, V said it, so it’s going on the page. And then, throughout the book, V kept hinting about Mary’s name having a special significance. I had no idea what the hell he was going on about, but I kept seeing him in my head, always with the name. I figured, Well . . . just throw it in, and when it goes nowhere, I’ll trim it out.
It wasn’t until I got to the end of the book when it all became clear. Mary and Rhage were holding each other after being