Tuesday, July 31, 2007

Character Flaws

Lilith Mercury is always attracted to the wrong sort of man. Boy, does this sound familiar. Freud believed that every person in our dreams represented some aspect of ourselves. What is a good story, a fantasy, if not a dream of some sort? As I read over my books, proofing and such, I am often amazed at the resemblance. I don't just see myself in Lilith, but all of my characters. Yes, even, or perhaps it is especially, in the villains.

As for Lilith, I've often said she carries my scars in more than one sense of the word. But so does Marco and Alfred. I've been on all sides of the fence, and that comes through in their personalities. It's like getting to write about different sides of myself. Kat is another character I have a lot of fun with. She's based on a very good friend of mine who likes to joke that Kat is her wicked side.

Marco is such a combination. He looks like a man I cannot have, and has a combined personality of myself, the man he resembles, and the one who nicknamed me Red. You see, I was never afraid when I heard the story of Little Red Riding Hood. As Lilith says herself, "If The Big Bad Wolf wanted to eat me, I wasn't about to stop him." Marco is my Big Bad Wolf made flesh, and I agree with her sentiments wholeheartedly.

Alfred is more of the man who was ... what I thought I wanted. He has a past, and that intrigues me. He's older and therefore more experienced, and that just turns me on. He saved Lilith's life, so she echoes my opinion. He's also Italian, and that never hurts. I took the time to learn the language just to make him sexier. To me French is the language of sex, but Italian is the true language of love.

Even our villain, whom I've not spoken much about, Bade Garren, is a part of me. If I had to call him anything, I'd say he's my wicked side. He does all of the things I could never get away with. In a twisted way, he's wish fulfillment. He also wears a silver stud through his left nipple. You see, even though werewolves have an extreme allergy to silver ... he likes the pain.

Before I started writing, I also found myself drawn to stories with characters I could see a bit of myself in. Does this happen to you? Do you like something completely different, or something that reflects just a little bit of who you are or who you'd like to be? If you're a writer also, do your characters reflect you greatly, or just a bit? Or are they completely different?

Monday, July 30, 2007

Faith Hill/Grabbing Incident

Have you seen this yet? I was listening to the radio on my way to work this morning and heard the story. Apparently a fan grabbed Tim McGraw's crotch. As you may (or may not) know, he and his wife Faith Hill are on tour together right now. How tacky can you be? It's bad enough if he were single. It'd still be tacky. I can understand wanting to touch their hand as they walk by or something, but you don't grab people's balls. LOL (Which is pretty much what Faith tells her.) Someone happened to have a camera and caught her telling off the fan. Personally, I thought she was very nice about it. If someone had done this to my husband I'd have been thrown in jail. I feel it was handled well under the circumstances. Like I said, it was just tacky to me. It's bad enough to do this to someone who is single, but to grab a married man right in front of his wife?! Come on, get a life. Either way, it's kind of funny and here's a link to watch the video.


Friday, July 27, 2007


I was right. I've just finished the book about an hour ago and I've only managed to stop crying just now. I cannot make up my mind how I feel about everything. Many of the deaths came too quick and unexpected. One in particular, I thought I was prepared for, but when faced with the reality of it .... found I was not. My favorite character died. No, I'm not going to tell you who it was, but they were my favorite and I mourn their loss. Yes, I can see as a writer and also enjoyer of a good tale, how it was necessary that this character should die ... nevertheless, my mind whirls with the possibility of "was there another way?"

I still must applaud Rowling. The entire story was a masterstroke and it probably feels wonderful to have completed it. I think I had held up remarkably well until the last two pages. Yes, I'd cried, but nothing like this. Once you get there, you'll know what I mean. I cried like someone I actually knew had died.

I will say this, the book wasn't all good, and it wasn't all bad. It was ... a necessary conclusion. It was bittersweet. I had figured out most of the main points, which were clarified in book seven, long before now. Not because I'm any great genius, but because I loved the books good enough to take a thorough interest in the development and personalities of the characters. You see, once upon a time, I was going to be a psychologist, and I take great interest in what makes people tick. Even fictitious people. That's why I enjoy being a writer so much.

I was both pleased and heartbroken when my favorite character turned out to be just as I had thought them to be. Just as brave ... and just as broken. Perhaps even suffering more than Harry himself by the time it was all said and done. My poor hero. I had really wanted to be wrong about some of this. But if I was, it would have made this character's suffering and indeed their whole purpose in vain. We couldn't have that, now could we?

I won't tell you who it was, because I think people who do things like that are pricks. I've actually avoided the news and most of the Internet for the past week so no one could ruin it for me before I had a chance to finish the book. I'll probably end up sleeping most of the day tomorrow ... no wait, that's today. Because I can't sleep now. Not after what I've just read.

I've also called and awakened a friend of mine whom I knew would understand. The other friend I called when I couldn't immediately reach him was still awake:) Good morning, Priscilla. As for you, Alan. You're probably walking your dog a bit early this morning. Sorry:) Enjoy your coffee, and stop giving caffeine to the dog. If you're reading this though ... you're right. I just needed to hear your voice. As a matter of fact, I'm about to call you again right now.

As for everyone else out there. Was it worth it? Should you even bother seeing what happens after all? Absolutely. It reminds me of a song I heard years ago in school. And if you've read some of my other posts, you'll know I don't often listen to country music. The reason is, it makes me cry.

But I remember a song by Garth Brooks called The Dance. In this song he says he's glad he didn't know, "The way it all would end, the way it all would go." Because he could have missed the pain, but he might have missed the dance.

Yes, the conclusion was painful. But it was a dance that I enjoyed and would gladly take part in again ... even knowing how it all would go.

Thursday, July 19, 2007

Willie Nelson and wine

I shouldn't drink and listen to country music, period. Country normally doesn't do it for me, but "You were always on my mind," makes me think of people who ... were on my mind. The ones I never held like I should have, or told them I loved them as often as I could have. All of the things I should have said and done, and never took the time, but they were always on my mind. Anyway, it's one of my all time favorite songs. How much more sincere can you get? He's saying, "I screwed up and I know that. Now can I have another chance?"

Or, maybe I just sympathize with a fellow redheaded stranger. LOL

Tuesday, July 17, 2007

Seeing Red again

I just wanted to let everyone know that Red is now listed on the New Concepts Publishing Coming Soon page. I was excited. The release is still scheduled for late August, but in the meantime you can check out my cover art.


10% of my royalties will be donated to St. Jude Children's Hospital. This goes for every book I will ever write. I believe very strongly in their cause. I encourage anyone interested to take a look at this great organization.

Monday, July 9, 2007

Ever dance with a werewolf in the full moon light?

Do you howl at the full moon? Are you an animal lover? Or does a hairy chest just do it for you? My favorite social animal has recently been interviewed. Just so you know, I fell in love with Marco the moment he touched the paper, so to speak. I hope you'll love him as much as I do.

Interviews with the Heroes of New Concepts Publishing

Good morning! My name is Bo. As a vampiress I've seen lots of men come and go over the past several centuries, but nothing like the group I'm about to speak with today. With help from my friend, Caitlin, a fairy witch, I'm about to travel through time and space to interview heroes from New Concepts Publishing. We've gathered at a magical hotel on the seashore of a land I'm not allowed to mention in order to protect the privacy of Caitlin's tribe.

This is exciting for me because I've only been a secondary character in stories like Caged with the Tiger and Tamed by the Tiger so they usually don't let me near the heroes. However today I'll be in contact with hotties from this world and beyond.

The interviews will be starting soon.

Thank you!
Vampiress Bo

Hero Interview: Marco Barak

Hello! Vampiress Bo again and I'm here in Marco Barak's hotel room, seated across from the handsome werewolf. I have to admit I've recently developed a soft spot for were-creatures and this guy is no exception. He's tall, tan, and tantalizing with his long, lean legs poured into black leather pants and a shirt that clings to every chiseled muscle of his torso. When he speaks, his voice is deep, rough and sexy enough to send a shiver down a woman's spine. I have to admit that even someone as old and experienced as I am can't help being aroused by the sound of it.

Staring into his chocolate brown eyes, it's a little hard to think, but I collect myself and begin the interview.

BO: What do you do for a living?

MARCO: I run club Red. It's where a lot of my pack members come to party. Of course the general public is welcome, though we don't advertise that fact. We also don't advertise the fact that it's a werewolf club.

BO: How did you feel when you first met your lady?

MARCO: My lady? Well, she certainly doesn't consider herself that. (He lays on a smile worthy of the devil and reclines slightly in his chair, causing his leather pants to creak.) I'll have a hard time getting her away from Alfred. He's her partner, a scientist. (sigh) Yeah, he really has it in for me. The problem with Lilith is, she still thinks I'm the bad guy. (another smile) Do I look bad to you, honey? (He laughs, a deep and very masculine sound.)

BO: What's your favorite pastime alone?

MARCO: Believe it or not, I enjoy reading. I love to study law and literature, as well as ancient cultures.

BO: How about your favorite pastime with your lady?

MARCO: Well, I'm at the top of her list, just not the list I'd like to be on. But I can think of several things I'd like to ... Oh, wait, that's not what you asked.

BO: Are you always the aggressor in the bedroom or does she sometimes take the lead?

MARCO: Getting ahead of ourselves aren't we? (He laughs and runs a hand through his dark hair, causing it to shine underneath the light. Next, he leans forward, giving a smell of his werewolf pheromones.) I can be a great many things in the bedroom, let's just leave it at that.

BO: Do you remember to take out the garbage?

MARCO: Always. I'm fairly neat for a werewolf. (wink)

BO: What is one of your greatest faults?

MARCO: I can be harsh when necessary. It's not exactly a fault, but something I do not enjoy. I guess you could say I rule with an iron hand when I have to.

BO: What would your lady say is your greatest virtue?

MARCO: I believe she's yet to discover that. Hell, I'm not even sure what it is.

BO: Boxers, briefs or other?

MARCO: Most of the time ... nothing at all.

BO: Do you play any sports?

MARCO: No, but I like to hunt. (smile) Just for the record, we're not talking about using a gun here.

BO: In what book can we read about you?

MARCO: Red, coming in August to NCP, by Tracey H. Kitts. For now you can read an excerpt about me at http://www.traceyhkitts.com/red.htm

Contest Winner

Congratulations to Liadan Brodie! Lia won my gift basket filled with scented candles, accompanied by a letter from Lilith Mercury, werewolf hunter extraordinaire. If you're reading, Lia, I hope you enjoy them. Hopefully, cream will match something in your new house:)

Tuesday, July 3, 2007

Seeing Red yet?

I've decided to post some excerpts of my upcoming novel Red, scheduled for release with New Concepts Publishing this August. (For those who have already read this excerpt on my website, hang in there, there will be more.) Here's the first:

We went to a few places. Mostly, Kat drank a lot and watched me dance. I love to dance; it’s such an incredible stress reliever. There are some times when stress just calls for physical activity. I’d worked out so vigorously over the past few months that I’d lost ten pounds. But, I was sick of making my punching bag suffer defeat, or slicing and dicing my poor steel dummy in the training room. I needed to do something less violent to calm my nerves ... I needed to dance.

It was very late, or very early, depending on how you want to look at it, when we arrived at the last stop of the night. This club was unusual, to say the least. Three bold letters splashed above the door in massive blood colored brushstrokes said, Red. The moment I saw it, I knew this was the place from my dream, and somewhere inside, was the man I’d been dreaming about.

The inside of the place was dark, with occasional flashes of strobe lights illuminating a path through the crowd of sweaty gyrating bodies. When I say the music pumped, I’m not using a figure of speech. You could feel the rhythm in your chest, like a heartbeat. Like really good sex, the pounding music rattled your teeth. The whole room pulsated with an energy I couldn’t describe. It excited me.

In the time we were there, a variety of music was played and a variety of people were on the dance floor. Some who could dance, others so drunk they thought they could. Kat made her way over to what may have been a stage, but it looked more like an elevated part of the dance floor. She sat at a table there to enjoy watching some drunk guys trying to dance.

“Free entertainment,” she yelled, pointing at the staggering group.

I yelled back that I’d be at the bar for a while, and made my way back through the crowd. I sat on one of the tall leather barstools, and ordered a coke and rum. Unfortunately for me, it took a great deal of alcohol to get me drunk and right then, I wanted nothing more than to lose myself in the wonderful haze of intoxication. I metabolize alcohol at such a fast rate that I can get a buzz, sit down to watch a movie, and be completely sober half way through. Kat saw my high metabolism as a gift from God, until I told her how fast I burned off alcohol.

“No one could ever take advantage of you,” she’d teased, looking scandalized.

I tried explaining to her there are ways of intoxicating the senses besides alcohol. She’d smirked and said, “Yeah, but I haven’t had sex that good in a while.” That wasn’t exactly what I’d meant, but I thought explaining would have been a waste of time.

I stayed at the bar for at least twenty minutes, eventually downing straight shots of rum. The whole time I was there, I sensed someone watching me. I put down my tenth empty shot glass and focused for a moment on the eyes that I could feel on my back. Even through the haze I’d managed to accomplish I knew a werewolf when I sensed one. My heart fluttered, my pulse quickened, and I was suddenly short of breath. It was almost like being aroused.

Someone leaned over me just as there was a brief pause in the music and whispered against my right ear, “Would you like to dance?” His scent was thrilling. He smelled clean, like soap mingled with aftershave, and underneath it all, there was the undeniable scent of a man. I turned enough to see Marco Barak.

“Hello, Red,” he smiled.

I wondered if he’d been waiting till I got drunk enough to accept his offer. I hesitated for a moment, just looking at him. I might have to kill this man one day. But that night, I wanted to dance. I took his hand and led him onto the dance floor through the crowd, and onto the raised platform in front of Kat’s table. We danced for what felt like hours. I suppose you could have called our dancing foreplay. I know many women consider dancing a metaphor for sex. If that’s true, then my God, this man danced well.

Time stood still as we moved together. The touch of his body against mine sent fire through my veins, like small jolts of electric sensuality. I was vaguely aware that Kat had taken out her camera and was snapping pictures between the flashing lights. The room seemed to freeze with each flash, giving me unforgettable mental images. Marco wore black leather pants and a matching shirt that felt smooth to the touch. We looked as if we’d dressed to match.

His hair that I remembered as a dusty blond had darkened into a brown over the years. Through the rain a few weeks ago, I couldn’t tell. After all, everything is darker when it’s wet. But, his eyes were the same deep chocolate brown I remembered. I noticed a light stubble on his chin, as if he’d forgotten to shave, and the beginnings of side burns. Have I mentioned how fond I am of men who look like they’ve been roughed up a little?

He pulled me close and asked, “What are you thinking?”

“That you’re a good dancer.” I paused, looking him up and down. “It’s difficult to find a man with such ... rhythm.” I looked into his dark eyes and saw a passion which could only be described as hunger.

“I was seriously considering asking you to leave with me,” he confessed.

“I was considering doing just that.”

He didn’t seem as surprised as I’d expected. “Are you here with someone?”

“A friend.”

“Are you attached to someone in any way?”

“Yes,” I lied. “Are you?”

“Yes, but I’m beginning to regret my choices,” he answered.

He pulled me near, as if to kiss me. Stopping just short of contact, he breathed against my lips, “Let’s get out of here.”

“Let me tell my friend I’m leaving. She’s really drunk and is going to need a cab,” I explained.

“Does she know me?” he asked.

“Yeah, she knows who you are.”

He paused, as if trying to figure out how to word his question. “I mean, does she know--”

“What you are?” I interrupted.

He nodded.

“Yes. She does,” I said simply.

“Will she tell on you?” he asked.


Stepping down from the platform, I walked to Kathryn’s table and tried to explain that I was leaving with Marco. She was very drunk, and couldn't seem to grasp what I was saying. I handed her some money. “You go back to the hotel, don’t take anyone with you, and lock the door. Understand?” She nodded, but still had a blank look on her face.

“But ... isn’t he--?”

“Yes,” I interrupted, “He is.”

She looked around me at Marco. It was obvious what she was thinking. She looked him up and down like he was on a buffet and she was starving. “Oh ... alright then.” I gave her a look that said this was not up for discussion. “How long will you be?” she asked.

I glanced back to Marco waiting patiently and let my eyes roam over all of the places I’d like to put my hands. “This might take a while,” I answered.