I’m excited to bring you Kat Daemon today, who I recently found out I’ll have the pleasure of working with on books two and three! Check out her guest post on her road to publication, then scroll down for a sexy scene!
Since he was sentenced to earth eons ago, Lucifer has always lived by three simple rules: Humans are toys that are meant to be played with, love is a useless emotion, and the only creature worth fighting for is himself. To him, nothing matters but his own enjoyment, whether it be manipulating those around him, or indulging in the sins of the flesh with Lilith. Then he found young, sweet, and innocent, Maria, who is everything that Lucifer detests. She has devoted her life to her one true love, God. Unable to resist a challenge, Lucifer sets his sights on tempting Maria away from his enemy. Disguising himself as Lucas Starr, he creates a world that not even Maria can resist. He never planned on having the tables turned on him. Imagine Lucifer’s surprise when Maria brings him to his knees and shows him a glimpse of heaven once more.
Blinded by his arrogance and an unlikely vision, Lucifer falls again, this time forgetting that some lines should never be crossed. When his greatest opponent, Michael, shows up, all Hell breaks loose. Will Maria be able to accept Lucifer for who he truly is, or realize what Michael already knows: some destinies can never be changed?
You can add Taming Darkness to your to-read list on Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18779536-taming-darkness?from_search=true
Buy Link: Amazon
Taming Darkness: Journey to Publication
By: Kat Daemon
As most writers will tell you, the road to publication is not always an easy one. Writing is an extremely introverted profession. You write alone, you edit alone, and you submit alone. Despite how many people are supporting you, they are not with you when you enter the ring. When your work has to stand out against countless others who are fighting for the same chance that you are — a chance to see your words in the hands of readers — it can feel pretty lonely.
My road to publication began nearly sixteen years ago when I worked at Barnes and Noble. I would stack the new release shelves or set up the section for an author signing and dream of the day when it would be my book that appeared on a shelf. I had always enjoyed writing, but it wasn’t until much later that I took novel writing seriously.
My first novel took me a year to write. It had a lot of “me” in it as I have been often told to “write what you know.” When that year was over and my 119k “masterpiece” was complete, I swore I would never put myself through that much stress, emotion, and aggravation ever again. That was just the first draft! Now it had to be rewritten and revised, and I had to CUT scenes out. Nope. Too painful, I could never do that. Toss it in a drawer and forget about this crazy notion that you could ever be a real writer.
Two months later I started working on a book that over the course of six years would evolve into the Taming Darkness Trilogy.
I found I couldn’t stop writing, no matter how hard I tried. Pandora’s box had been opened, and I was now addicted to the written word. More ideas came, scraps of paper containing snippets of dialogue found it’s way across my desk. I polished and perfected my work as best as I could. Six years had passed by now and I had two complete manuscripts ready to be thrown into the query trenches and about seven manuscripts that had begun to blossom on my computer.
I researched as much as I could about the query process before I took the plunge. Despite this, my first query letter was very amateur and was followed by my first rejection two hours after I had hit send. Querying became a part time job for me. The research, the writing, the following the guidelines (because everyone wants it done a certain way) was draining. I stopped counting my rejection letters after sixty. The depression was starting to form a dark cloud over my head. I had a few partials that were upgraded to a full request that gave me the worst possible feeling: Hope. After weeks or even months the answer would arrive in my inbox. “Sorry, but no.”
There were a few agents out there who took the time to write a personal response and I clung to their compliments like a raft in the middle of the ocean. I stopped telling my friends and family when I got full requests, because I was tired of telling them it was eventually rejected.
Almost ten months had passed since I had begun this query process and I discovered that I was querying and editing more than I was actually writing. This alarmed me, so I decided to take a step back. I took a character from one of my completed manuscripts and wrote a novella for him. I wasn’t going to publish it. I was writing for me, so I wrote without fear. I put my anger, my sarcasm, my cheeky side, and an erotic nature I didn’t even know I was capable of, into that work. When I was done I had a short novella, nothing more than 28K. I gave it to my husband and asked what he thought. He told me it was the best thing I had ever written. Stunned, I considered self publishing it — after all, I had no idea how to go about querying a novella that was actually linked to a series of books that I had invested so many years and emotions in.
That very night, I saw a twitter pitch party offered by Entranced Publishing. It was a call for not only novels but novellas. Before I could even think, I pitched the story, and I got a request right away. I didn’t even have a query letter or a synopsis written at this point, so I got straight to work on that, assembled my package and hit send.
My partial was upgraded to a full.
My full opened up new questions by this press, in particular: Did I plan to write any more books with these characters?
Did I plan on it?
After more talks, and more sample pages of where this series was headed, I was offered an R&R. I knew I was close, and that terrified me. I locked myself in my writing room for two days living on coffee and Alternative Rock before I felt I had done all I could do. I stared at my work, took a breath, and clicked send.
Three days later, I was offered a contract for The Taming Darkness Trilogy.
Since signing with Entranced my little novella has evolved into a full length novel, and hit the digital shelves last week. Now a new wave of anxiety begins: rank, reviews and sales. I have to keep reminding myself that the dream came true. That’s all that matters, now it’s time to focus on keeping the dream alive. This is only the beginning, I am learning every day and I see now that all the “no’s” in life eventually lead you down the path to that final “yes”.
The only way to make your dreams become a reality is to never stop trying.
After all, it’s always darkest before the dawn, and one can never know what tomorrow may bring.
There are many places that I have called home over my lifetime. I have rooms in every corner of the globe. Yet, I have such a fondness for Manhattan that I made a penthouse on the Upper East Side one of my more permanent lairs. I acquired the building during the stock market crash of 1929. Amazing what people are willing to give up when they are in a state of panic. Although the entire building is mine, I prefer to spend my time at the top, watching the city, keeping a close eye on humanity.
This particular evening, I was host to a party, an impromptu event in which many of my minions had brought with them a human counterpart to tempt and indulge. All around me, the weak were lost in laughter, swimming in the sensation of sin as they turn a blind eye on their conscience. Bodies were draped over chaise lounges with veins full of heroin, brains closed to common sense. Girls danced for men with dollars while greedy hands in the corner bet their house over a card game. In the back rooms, people fucked like dogs, cheating on their spouses, and snorting lines of cocaine off of the bodies of the camouflaged demons that would later chain them to the beds. The air was thick with smoke and fragrant with booze. It was a typical Saturday night.
I sat cast in shadows, a king on my throne, observing the jesters that provided my entertainment. Sometimes, human behavior fascinated me. But mostly, I was watching Lilith. She was sitting on top of the bar, with no less than a dozen suitors at her feet. Leave it to Lilith to break my one guest rule. Red leather high-heeled boots ran up her legs, black hot pants revealed too much flesh, and a red halter top tied her up in one neat package. Her skin might as well have been white marble, with lips red as roses begging to be kissed. Lavish, flaming red hair spilled over her breasts, hitting her hips in thunderous waves. She was the vision of a ripe, delicious, cherry waiting to be plucked. One of my favorite features was her eyes. They were always changing color, alternating between green and yellow. What was even more fascinating was that she could spin them at will, hypnotizing any man that needed to be soothed.
The primitive beings before her fought hard to serve, hoping for a fraction of consideration, but her eyes were on me. They always were. Hopping off of the bar, she walked toward me, her body swaying in a seductive rhythm, her hips demanding my attention. She offered me a half empty glass of bourbon, and made herself comfortable in my lap. Stretching out like a cat, she lay against my chest and raised a lazy hand beneath my chin, tracing my chiseled jaw with her finger. Had it been a normal night, I would have enjoyed her this way, but I knew it wasn’t for me. It was all part of the act for her fans, whose hungry eyes longed for her, with tongues hanging and dicks waving.
I pulled her hair out of my face, rested it on her shoulder, and took a generous gulp of the bourbon. “Rough day at work, dear?” I asked while eyeing the strings of her shirt knotted at her neck. It didn’t seem to be tied very tight, and I was tempted to pull it apart.
“If only it were. You know I like it rough.” She purred in my lap. “May I ask what the great Lucifer has been up to? I haven’t seen you around lately.”
I handed her the glass and revealed my secret. “I found a new toy.”
“Oh? I’m in need of a new toy.” She took a drink from the glass and licked her lips before laying her head against my shoulder. “I keep breaking all of mine.” She gestured toward the bar, where the men were begging for her return. Her fingers unbuttoned my two top buttons. She slipped her hand inside and ran her fingers over my pecs. She was warm, like me.
“I’m not sharing this one,” I declared.
“You never do,” she said, pulling her hand back a tad more defiant than I would have liked. Sitting up and slamming back the bourbon, she leaped from my lap, taking a step back toward her fans.
“Lilith…I think I might keep this one for a while. This soul may be a bit harder to acquire.”
She turned and looked at me for a moment, contemplating my intent. “I never interfere with your work, just as long as it doesn’t interfere with me.”
“Go have fun. Work up an appetite, and when you get hungry, come back to me.”
She leaned down and placed a firm hand on each armrest, looking into my eyes with her wild, animal instincts. She kissed me fiercely, and added, “I always do.”
“One more thing,” I said grabbing her wrist and kissing the inside of it before she fled toward her toys. “That blonde with the great hair, but bad teeth…”
Lilith turned a lazy head and noted who I referred to. “Do you want him?” she offered.
“I want his watch,” I said, my eyes locked on the Rolex that was in all likelihood a family heirloom.
Lilith laughed. “Is that all? Consider it yours.” Then she made her way back to the crowd to break a few hearts, and perhaps a few necks as well.
About the Author:
Kat Daemon grew up in New York where her imagination always seemed to get the best of her. When she’s not hanging with demons, she’s usually armed with a strong cup of coffee and dreaming up her next tormented character.
You can find out more about Kat and her books at www.katdaemon.com