Writing Blog Number 2 (continued)

20260216 Novel #40

Novel #40

Next novel is one I am not really sure about. It is a standard demonic possession horror tale, with lots of gore, and a double presence, mixed with a hero who cheats on his partner, and seems to come out of it without any serious repercussions. I mean. It isn’t terrible, but it is hardly brilliant.
         But here’s the weird thing – it has been accepted twice for publication already. One company went bust (thanks, COVID!) and the other merged with a different company, and mine was one of half a dozen books not proceeded with (though that second did pay me the advance they promised as a, “Sorry about that,” consolation prize).
         So this story might be cursed.
         So, the story took 6 months to write. I wrote the first draft in third person limited PoV, but it didn’t feel right. I tried 3rd person omniscient, but that was worse. So draft 3 was first person, and draft four was making it more based on the relationships than the demonic possession. Took me a while to find its voice, but in the end some publishers seemed to like it.
         My beta reader didn’t. I had a new one at the time, and she struggled with why the original partner of the narrator would go back to him. I rewrote the ending so we don’t know how they are going to go, and she did think that was better, but still felt he got away with everything too easily
         It is not a departure for me, and maybe complacency in my writing is what lets it down.

So, the story. Saving Grace is 73k words long and tells the story of Grace, a tennis player turned model, becoming possessed by a demon because of a deal her father made. The demon looks like her with demonic attachments that comes out of her and kills other woman. She is helped initially and then goes off with an actor, who is dating a visual artist. He tries to protect Grace, but she goes after his girlfriend and we have a final confrontation at a seaside town.
         My normal tropes are there – arsehole cops, getting away from it all, overly emotional male heroes, greyness in characters – and I am not sure how it really reads, but it is what it is.

Excerpt
         He placed a hand right on my chest. “I think maybe you should return to your apartment and I’ll come up and…” Some-one swearing suddenly made him look over his shoulder.
         I ran without thinking. I slid out of Karen’s grip, pushed past him and bowled over a pair of uniformed officers, then hurdled a piece of loosely strung tape and barrelled around a parked car.
         My legs almost gave way and I had to use the car to keep upright. I hardly noticed the hands fall to my shoulders and forcibly guide me away from the elevator, its door held open by a long steel pole. That image of what was inside would stay with me for a long, long time. Maybe forever. It was beyond terrible.
         Three people in white coats and pants, wearing paper face masks and latex gloves, were in there, doing their thing slowly and meticulously. The officers standing close by were conspicuously making sure they were not watching what was going on, nor taking in any more of the sight of the fourth occupant of the elevator than they absolutely had to.
         Shawna was propped up in a corner. Her eyes were still open, wide and staring apparently at her feet, the legs straight out before her. The mouth was open as well, but it was obscured by the blood that had poured over those lips, blood that had merged with the crimson stain that covered her entire chest. Crimson to dark, almost purple, still wet, glistening in the harsh lights. I couldn’t even tell what her injuries exactly were. Did it matter? Red was splashed everywhere; a heavy drip fell from the roof of the small box to land on the ground between her feet. In my head, it echoed like a drum-beat, reverberating through my skull.
         So much blood, a shallow lagoon of it all around her, the three in white unable to avoid getting droplets of Shawna on their clean coveralls. They stood out like candle flames, drawing too much attention to their ruby sparkle. There was so much of Shawna everywhere, spread out; more of her to love even as there was less of her.
         Then I was next to Karen again, sitting on the cold hard ground, my hands shaking like I was freezing cold. I couldn’t even remember walking away. I gazed up and blinked at the faces staring down at me.
         “Happy now?” O’Rourke asked, and I was sure I could detect a note of actual joy in his voice at my predicament.
         “Fuck you,” I croaked, pushing myself uneasily and unsteadily to my feet. Karen stayed right there beside me, mirroring my actions.
         “I’ve got one or two…” O’Rourke started to say, his hand falling to my forearm.
         I snatched the limb away. “Fuck you,” I repeated and somehow marched back into the stairwell. The two shocked police officers in there watched us go past, but I ignored them. I had to get away from O’Rourke’s pleasure at my pain, away from Grace’s depressed face and away from Shawna’s tiny mausoleum. Karen chased behind, eventually catching me at the landing on the ground floor. She took my arm and I stared at her.
         She offered me a sad, cute, hopeful smile. I fell against the cold concrete wall and slid to the floor, my head in my hands. She sat beside me and slipped her arm about my waist, leaning her head on my shoulder.
         I cried. I bawled like a baby. And it wasn’t enough. It would never, ever be enough.

A dead body scene! Woo-hoo! We all need the blood and guts in life…
         So, yeah, another mediocre book in a series of them. Not terrible, but not great. Still, publishers liked it.
         What do I know?