Yeah, I've heard that comment from students and friends for years, but it makes so much sense to me, a writer.
See, what had happened was...is pretty much how a lot of my books get started. I'll be doing something and a snippet of information will catch my eye or ear and the little wheels in my brain begin to churn. They buzz and zip along like that little squirrel from "Over the Hedge" when he's had a few too many energy drinks.
Not that this is a bad thing mind you. Oh no. It simply stuffs another sheet of notes into the file cabinet in my mind...you know the one that has papers and pictures and the occasional smooshed fairy tale creature clamoring to escape from it. Anyway, the idea is sparked then tucked away and left to grow, like mold on that sandwich your kid left sitting on his nightstand a month ago, but never threw away.
That little germ of an idea grows and grows and grows. Depending on the atmosphere of my mind at the time, the growth rate can be incremental or exponential. Like the Diablo Blanco Club. I knew over thirty years ago about the first Collas Brysson Halsey and how he ended up in Southern California long before other Anglos were present in the state (he dropped anchor a little before 1813, but didn't return to stay until 1816 when he had Margaretta with him). What I didn't know, but was quickly informed of in 2007, is that my pirate had a thing for domination and whips and meting out pain to enhance his partner's sexual arousal.
Thus was born the Diablo Blanco Club. And once I had that information firmly entrenched, the history of the Halsey line and their practices of BDSM beginning in the 12th Century unraveled like a ball of yarn in a kitten's paws. See, I know there's a certain gentleman who shows up in the Diablo Blanco Club on occasion. He sits off to one side and observes the comings and goings of the members and their activities. He usually sports this wicked goatee and an amused grin and no one is mistaken that he's a Dom through and through. But he never plays.
At least not yet. There's a reason for that that will become clearer in Maggie and ZJ's story...I know, I know more characters...but you already know Maggie. She's that perfect replica of Mattie except she has her daddy's pale green eyes. That's a family trait that's only handed down rarely...the eyes...and the other thing.
The other thing? Oh, you want to know about that? Hmm, not sure I can divulge just yet. The twists and turns impact more than the Halseys. The Hendersons are equally impacted by the other thing. In particular David. That boy looks just like his great-great-great-great granddaddy, Zeal Henderson...Cole Halsey's First Mate and best friend.
For anyone interested, there are three clubs...no, make that five BDSM clubs I'm involved with.
The Diablo Blanco Club in San Diablo, the books there will mostly be contemporary with a splash of the paranormal (hey, you already know, if you read Rite of First Claim, that Maggie is precognitive. As are the Henderson boys, David and Case).
Then there's the Dragon Rose House in North Carolina...oh the history behind this club is yummy, but I'm not sharing...yet. The books that will interact with the DRH will be more romantic suspense since it's connected to my Operation Zulu Team (OZ).
In London, is the original Halsey club, as yet unnamed, founded by the first Halsey, a bastard knight who earned his spurs during the Holy Wars fighting beside Richard the Lionheart. Drakkar Halsey was given the title of Marquess of Bloodwell along with lands for his skills on the battlefield, but it was the lessons learned from a Pasha who'd captured then befriended him, that led to his success in protecting his land and people. The books connected to this club will be historical in nature, mainly Regency era.
In Mexico, I have the Dulce Oro club, run by Dante Salvador Cruz. He's going to show up in Rick and Becka's book and perhaps another one from my San Diablo doms. Dante is quite the character with lots and lots of secrets that I'm reluctant to divulge...but they'll be coming out...
Lastly, there's the new club that sprang to life. The Omen. It's an unassuming building set half-way between Savannah and Magnolia (my imaginary town, so don't go looking for it on any maps) in Georgia, but when my Poker Posse descend on it none of the doms or subs who frequent it will ever be the same. Would you if a group of 60-something Southern Belles plopped themselves on your doorstep determined to ferret out the perfect man (insert Dominant here) for each of their daughters?
So, see what ha' happen' was... has become a new mantra for me. Much as I hate to leave readers hanging, waiting for the next Diablo Blanco Club book, the wheels in my head are turning and so many new characters chatting with me. All I can say is, please, be patient.