I often find myself in a fight with my muse for creative power over my brain. So today, I’m cheating. I keep a writing diary. I have for almost three years now. When we have it out, I write letters to myself. It’s mostly in character. So today, I bring you the inner workings of my mind.

Date: October 04, 2006

Mood: Well, I’ve gotta tell you, muse, I’m just peachy because of you…  You feel me?

Inspiration: My level of confidence is in the dirt. But I’m hanging on by a thread.

Music: Brackish- Kittie  (Explains a lot, doesn’t it.)

Introduction- How we met–

When I met her, it was like any other day for me. The drive into work was the same. The phone calls were the same. The music on the radio was the same. Nothing was different. Except for her voice. It was eerily haunting in it’s sweetness. A hint of sarcasm. Scratch that. Full of sarcasm. She threw a shoe across the room and said very quietly, “Get out.”

She had my full attention. To throw a shoe (which is like an offense in my book. Throw a knife. A whip. A clock. Anything but the five inch heel in patent leather. That’s a sin.) But her voice. Haunting. Like she’d done this before. Knew what to expect. That it was coming. I didn’t know what “it” was at this point, but I was engrossed. I had to know. So I listened all day. Tuned in quietly to my thoughts as she continued to talk to me. More like musings to herself, spoken to a silent confident.

Then I heard his voice. Cool. Calm. Collected. The type of voice that all women turn their heads toward on the street. The type of voice that gives you goosebumps when confronted in the dark corner of a club. His voice was enough to send shivers down my spine. But I could feel her tense up. I could feel her movements as sure as they were my own. She crossed her arms. Her breathing became more controlled, and even. And her mind shut down. This was “it”. This is who deserved the “get out”.

He walked into the room as if he owned it. I wasn’t sure. He might have. The look in his eyes was a dark gleam He knew what he wanted. He expected to get it. No wasn’t an option at this point between them. She closed herself off even more and I had to wonder if this was about to get really ugly. It wouldn’t be the first time. My mind played host to some twisted scenes in the past. I just hoped that this wasn’t going to be one of them. I liked her. I wasn’t sure who she was. But I was willing to find out. That had to be something. Right?

“I asked you to leave.” Her voice was soft in a room full of tension and the hair rose on my forearms. There was a warning in her voice.

He laughed. A baritone rich in velvet. It was almost cruel how much I wanted to love him. “You told me to get out.”

I could feel her shrug. “We must interpret “get out” differently then, because you’re still here.” Her voice gave away no emotion. Flat. Distant. Meant to annoy him.

But it didn’t. He came to a stop at an arm’s length distance away from her. Close enough to touch, but he held back. His stare was hot on her skin. And it was obvious she was uncomfortable with him. I wasn’t sure why. They had some sort of a relationship. I could tell that much. But the depth of that relationship was stunted by their inability to communicate with one another. Unwilling to share information.

And then it clicked all of a sudden. They worked together. The look in their eyes, they couldn’t react. No matter how much he wanted to and how much she pulled away emotionally from him, it was always going to be there, between them. The fire. The ice. It was love at it’s greatest point.

Sadie, I thought to myself. I knew her just as I knew myself. Her name was Sadie. Her father was dead. Her sister was murdered. Her mother hates her and Sadie’s lived with guilt that’s rotted her heart. She doesn’t want anything to do with a partner. Especially one who’s using her to get what he wants.

And the devil. Well he was easy. With the silver tongue and confidence of a sultan, he was Ash. And he wanted her. Not only for information, but in every way possible. And to Ash, a challenge was just the excuse he needed to get closer to her.

And there it was, at midnight, on October 4, 2006, my grandfather’s birthday, I knew I had my first original plot beginnings. Sadie Madalyn Michaels was born like a wildfire blowing in a strong breeze. And we haven’t looked back since.

So how was it for you? Do you remember anything remarkable about your first encounter with your hero/heroine? Remember where you were? Readers, are there any hero/heroines that have stuck with you and made you think that you could write or identify with that particular character? And does anyone else keep a writing journal to refer back to? Or even just a book of thoughts?