As some readers already know, I am changing jobs. My last day in Student Affairs was Friday (which reminds me, that means I need to update my bio). I've worked in Student Affairs at the college for just shy of 15 years. I was hired just after September 11 as a temp and managed to transition to being a full time regular employee in my department in June of 2002. While there were longer term employees in the department, in the core office I had been there the longest. I was the person with all the answers; I could answer pretty much any question. Over the course of that time I'd assisted every position in our office, from the residence life staff to the dean of international students and scholars.

While that service will serve me well, I am acutely aware that I am moving to a new office where I won't know things. It's a scary thought, not unlike trying to write a story with a hero or setting radically different from my personal experience. I know that there's a base of knowledge as an assistant that will serve me well, and because I transferred within the institution, my knowledge of the college and its procedures will allow me to continue the appearance of casual competence. 

It's not that I'm worried, not really. I will tackle the new job with the same sort of strategy that I might use if I was writing a story about a soldier. I'll research. I'll ask questions, and I'll brazen it out.

Comfort in a job is important to me. Long time followers of my work will remember how I struggled when I first moved to my new house to do any writing until my office was set up. For me this is much the same. So I went over on Friday (with the blessing of my outgoing supervisor) to get the new digs at the college setup. As promised, my new desk mascot is in place!

It's been a crazy week. Giving my notice at work. Worrying about the uncertainties of a new position. But it's done. My double set of edits are done. And now I'm prepared to offer you another look into the travels of Thommas as he travels the Realm.

When last we left our intrepid duo, they'd become entangled in a dream. Now, as they wake, what truths will they speak? Find out now in Chapter 10 of The One That Feels! (joining us late? Catch the story from Chapter 1 - and don't forget to click on the "Read More" link to see the whole chapter)

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Chapter 10
Nem shuddered in my arms as he woke. It was nice, comforting to hold someone like that again, but it took only moments before he pulled himself away from my arms, struggling to pull himself upright. His arms pulled tightly against his chest as he backed away from me. His breath was a soft mist that floated across our protected grove.
 
“You are safe,” I said, wincing as I got to my feet. I pulled my own arms across my chest. The fire had died down in the night and it was brutally cold.
 
“Y-you. You don’t know—”
 
“I know.”
 
“He’s searching.”
 
“Yes,” I said. “I will keep you safe.” My words were very soft, but I knew that he heard them.
 
“He’ll… he…”
 
“How long, Nem?” I asked. “How long has he been torturing you?”

Sheltering for the night in the wood, a worried prince of Zaharoth weighs on the mind of Thommas. He has a quest, and he has made an oath in haste that he cannot break. Perhaps he does not even want to break it. Now he must begin to face the feelings that skitter below  the surface in Chapter 9 of the The One That Feels.

If you haven't yet discovered the serial, it's posted mid-month and at the end of month, usually on a Monday. You can find the original blurb or start at chapter one if you haven't yet made the leap to follow the story. In addition to the blog, you can also follow my activities on ARDOR, my newsletter--subscribe and get a chance to win Becoming Rory! (click on the Read More link to view full post)

Chapter 9
The night in the primeval wood of the realm was oppressive even with the small fire on which we’d roasted the rabbits that the young prince of Zaharoth had presented me. He’d come to me rather gruffly with a demand that since he had caught the creatures, surely it was my duty to clean them. It only took a glance for me to know that he had no idea how.
 
I watched as Nem delicately nibbled at his dinner, clearly appalled at the demand that he eat the spitted creature with his hands. He was compensating by trying to take delicate bites, and failing badly. I kept back the urge to laugh. The look on his face, combined bewilderment, disgust and a little thrill at the experience of something new, made him look… I covered a sigh with a quick bite of my own, chewing fiercely with none of Nem’s delicacy.
 
He was quiet throughout dinner, his fascination and frustration breaking down finally into feverish biting and chewing of his own. He didn’t speak, and his gaze was frequently on the shadows outside the light of the fire.

It's August—a time of frustration and craziness. A time when I admit I am stretched well beyond my limits. This week I have a final galley proof and 2nd edits on two novellas. This has affected my schedule in terms of posting, for which I am sorry, but it won't be permitted to delay the posts of the serial. Today we have Chapter 8. Nem has wrested a promise from Thommas, a promise spoken in the Realm that binds them together on the quest to rescue Jordan's mind and return it to his body in the Real. 

If you haven't yet discovered the serial, it's posted mid-month and at the end of month, usually on a Monday. You can find the original blurb or start at chapter one if you haven't yet made the leap to follow the story. In addition to the blog, you can also follow my activities on ARDOR, my newsletter--subscribe and get a chance to win Becoming Rory!

Chapter 8
The grumbling started quickly. Not that this surprised me.
 
“Why can’t we just take the road?” asked Nem, for what seemed like the hundredth time.
 
He’d started before we’d even exited the hospital. I couldn’t really blame him. He was a prince, of sorts, and the road offered comforts and familiarity that trudging through the great wood of his realm did not.
 
I turned and looked at him. “You can go,” I said. “I am content to travel alone.”
 
His eyes were mercurial, gray that burned with a silver fire when he was irritated, as he was now. “Trying to get out of our bargain?” he spat.
 
I shook my head and glanced around, choosing a rather large stone as a seat. As I pulled myself up onto it and let my legs dangle, I looked at the young prince of Zaharoth. “I honor my bargains, Nem,” I said, meeting the gray, swirling gaze. “But the bargain was to accompany me. That does not mean dictating the route. Jordan will be difficult enough to find without wasting time by going around the wood.”