Over The Edge - The Second Excerpt: The Nurturing Forces

It's Time To Share Again!

Several weeks ago, I posted the opening pages of my work in progress. I'm now ready to share another excerpt, this time from further into the book. Over the Edge is an erotic horror novel destined for the Shivers line at Ellora's Cave (my publisher).

Over the Edge: The Blurb

Dahlia, a novice Healer, is accepted into a mysterious school in Seattle that teaches Curative Touch - only to realize too late that she is in grave danger. She and the other students are being used as a Guinea Pigs for newly-adult Sex Demons in training in the usage of their own powers. But Dahlia has done the forbidden: She's fallen in love with her Demon instructor and unearthed the truth.

The Excerpt:

(The setting for this excerpt: It is the first day of lessons at the Institute. Dahlia and her classmates are learning the first exciting steps of Curative Touch, as taught by ... Demons.)

     Professor Abiba turned to his audience. "And now I shall conduct a little exercise, to get us started. Put your hands together. Like this." He clasped his hands in a prayerful sort of way and held them out for all to see.

     We copied him, a room full of pious students.

     "Now give your hands to the person sitting next to you. One of you will put your hands over the other person's hands. Gently, now." 

     I turned to Coralee. She took my hands in hers, and her skin felt warm and dry. We smiled shyly at each other at this intimate, unexpected contact. On my other side, Ellen moved a few seats over so she could give her hands to Preston.

     Professor Abiba's voice turned soothing. "This is your first official lesson at the Institute. A momentous occasion, to be sure." He waited until the last student pairing was settled, and then continued. "Rule Number One. Always ask for permission before you start a healing. Always. Without fail. Even if the person has requested your help. Even if you are only doing a practicum with your Model. It is an enormous breach of trust to not do so."

     I sat with my hands embraced by Coralee's, pondering his words and wondering—had I asked permission before touching people during my painful years of stumbling in the dark trying to help people? Always and without fail?

     I knew I hadn't.

     Sometimes—most times—I had, but not always. Perhaps I didn't have explicit permission, but I always had implicit permission. I always knew that what I had to give was something they wanted.

Professor Abiba cleared his throat. "But once isn't enough. Asking permission is a two-part process because we believe that asking once isn't sufficient. We must let patients know exactly what we want to do. But fear not, my earnest pupils, for I shall teach you the verbiage." He nodded sagely. He raised a lone finger as emphasis. "First, acknowledge your patient's suffering. Use their name if you can. Now listen closely. These are the exact words—except for the name—that you must memorize and take to heart." He cleared his throat, looked at his wife, and then spoke in a theatrical-sounding voice. "Zettia, you are suffering. May I put my hands on you?"

     Mistress Anjoli inclined her head.

     He turned back to us. "Now you do it. Go ahead. Say the words to the person whose hands you hold."

     Coralee and I shared an excited little smile.

     I took the plunge. "Coralee, you are suffering. May I put my hands on you?"

     Her eyes shone. "And I see that you are suffering too, Dahlia. May I put my hands on you?"

     The same thing was echoed all around us, with minor variations.

     Professor Abiba nodded. "Well done. Now for the second part. May I conduct a healing for you?"

     I turned back to Coralee. "May I conduct a healing for you?"

     Coralee said the words back to me.

     We squeezed each other's hands, a silent yes. Then I thought about Gage, about how he'd put his hands on me yesterday, about how he'd said these very words. He'd even used my name.

     It made me shiver.

     Professor Abiba was speaking again. "The words I just taught you will become so familiar that you will be able to say them in your sleep. They are words that will stay with you for the rest of your lives. They are potent words which will settle you into the proper frame of mind to unlock your Curative Energy."

     They'd certainly been potent when Gage had said them to me.

     Professor Abiba waited an extra moment before continuing. "But even that is not enough. You are not yet ready to begin a healing. You must obtain assent." He moved to the edge of the platform. "The assent doesn't need to be verbal, because sometimes a patient may not be able to speak, but it must be clearly given. Why do we need assent? Why can't we heal a person just because we can, because we have the knowledge and the ability, and because we wish to help those in pain?" He left the stage, taking his robes in his hands and raising them to knee height before letting them drop again after he stepped down to the lower level. He was wearing loose ankle-length white pants underneath. "Why do we wait for assent? Because the nature of what we do demands it."

     He walked back and forth, so tall that he towered above us. Coralee and I, still holding hands, craned our heads when he came our direction. Then he turned around and walked the other way.

     "You see," he said, "our art works best if a patient is complicit in their own healing."

     Oh! I hadn't known that. I wished my hands were free so I could write it down.

     "A willing patient will open themselves to you. A willing patient will be relaxed. He or she will respond to your touch. He or she will offer their energy to you, even if they do not realize what they are doing." He stopped in front of me and Coralee. "Take these lovely young ladies in the first row. Our Dahlia will utilize Coralee's energy alongside her own to do her healing work. Two streams of energy are stronger than one. Understand?"

     "Yes," I whispered. Because I did understand, and it was beautiful. It was simple. And it was so obvious, although I hadn't seen it until Professor Abiba had shown me.

     I stared up at him, transfixed.

     And then I wondered how he'd known our names.

     He moved away. "Good. My job is to teach you to direct the flow of energy. To use it for a specific purpose, targeted toward one part of the body. And to direct your patient's energy alongside your own. It's more complicated than that, of course, but that right there is the basis of Curative Touch as we understand it." He stepped back up onto the podium. "You're still connected with your patient, still holding hands. You've asked for permission. Twice. You've obtained assent. Now it's time for the next step. Ask your patient to close his or her eyes."

     I asked Coralee to close her eyes. And then I closed mine.

     His voice came out of the darkness, silky and warm. "Now we're starting the simulated healing. Keep hold of your partner's hands. Take your time. Be gentle but firm. Be mindful." He waited a good minute or two. "Your hands should be feeling heavier. And getting warmer."

     I sucked in my breath. My hands were getting warmer, just as he'd said. And they felt like they weighed twenty pounds. I wondered if Coralee's hands felt like that too. I noticed that we'd allowed our joined hands to fall to the arm rest that separated our seats. I breathed in, out. In, out. Taking my time.

Finally, he spoke again. "This is a simulation. We're not going to do any healing this time. All I want is for you to know what it will feel like when we actually do get to that point." He paused between each instruction. "Feel your partner's skin…feel your own skin…feel where your fingertips meet…feel your partner's warmth…take it in…share your own warmth with your partner. Feel it. Don't think of anything else—just feel."

     Institute Time was a funny thing.

     It seemed to stand still, waiting, poised, full of potential.

     And then, without warning, something wonderful happened. Color! Fiery vermillion! A shocking burst of brilliant red that flooded my awareness and left me dumbstruck. Even though my eyes were closed, I saw color all around, so much so that it crowded out everything else. I became a ball of pure red light with the name Dahlia attached to it, and it was the most marvelous thing that had ever happened to me.

     I made some sort of sound.

     "Ah," said Professor Abiba.

     I opened my eyes to find him standing right in front of me.

     "Tell me, my dear—what just happened?"

     "Color!" I gasped. "I see red!"

     He regarded me, looking rather proud. "Ladies and Gentlemen," he said to my fellow students as he gently parted my hands from Coralee's. "Something momentous has just happened here. A benchmark. And it happened well before anticipated. We don't usually see this occur for days yet." He tugged lightly on my arm, urging me to stand next to him. Which I did, still seeing the world tinged in that delicious vermillion. "Our Dahlia has accessed the Nurturing Forces! Let us give her a round of applause!"

     They clapped for me, all of them, as I stood dazed and happy next to my professor.

     The Nurturing Forces.

     Who knew they were red?

***

(End of Excerpt)

Working on 'Over the Edge'

Thank you for reading! I'm still hard at work on Over the Edge - I'm currently just over 40,000 words into the novel, almost halfway through. I plan to post more excerpts occasionally, so please do check back.

Snapshots of a Writer

An Art Show - Kind Of

This is the bouquet my sister-in-law sent to me 

when my first book was published. 

The image has been altered in very cool ways.

Last night, I was up until 2 o'clock in the morning altering photographs. I'd dragged my laptop into bed with me - I have this sweet little lap table to perch it on - and pushed away curious cats. I made sure the clack-clacking of the keyboard and clicking of the mouse wasn't bothering my husband, and then I let myself have fun. And it was fun. I had so much dang fun I couldn't stop myself. (See how I just used the word "fun" three times in a row? Rebecca, my editor, wouldn't approve! My excuse is that I was up until 2 o'clock last night.)

It's all because I discovered this wonderful picture-editing tool on my image program.

This was the original version. The mixer had to go. 

I use Microsoft Digital Image Suite 2006. I have no idea if that's a good editing program or not, but it sure has some fun ways (...fun!...and there I go again!) to alter an image. So I thought I'd alter a series of photos, some recent and some a bit older, and use them to illustrate and chronicle my writing past.

Me and my Breakfast Basket

It was about three years ago. I was at the first-ever writer's retreat in Icicle Creak, Washington, run by Hugo House in Seattle. I had this sweet little cabin all to myself. It had a bunk-bed ,and a table and chair combo for writing, and a picture window that took up an entire wall and let in streams of light at 5:30 in the morning. Perhaps best of all was the breakfast basket sitting on my doorstep each dawn. I Skyped with my husband (but not at 5:30 am!) and proudly showed off my basket. What you don't see is me taking out each thing individually and showing them to him. I'm not sure exactly how he did it, but he took this picture during our Skype session, which explains the weirdly cool angle. And now I've altered it and made it even weirder.

At the Starbucks in the Hospital Lobby

That's me in the white sweater. This is the same location where I overheard some of the snippets in my two "Intrepid Eavesdropper" posts. It's a nice little place, big windows, lots of people-watching. The funny thing is...in real life, as I sit here at the kitchen table on this Tuesday morning, writing this post for my blog - I am about to head to this Starbucks. In fact, I will probably finish the post at the very same table in the image! So how about that?

Linky the Writer Cat

Linky is a sweetie, but sometimes he figures that he's more important than my novel. On this occasion, I'd just spent ten dedicated minutes petting him, which was an odd sort of torture because I had a glaring typo on the screen that I badly, badly, badly wanted to correct so I wouldn't have to stare at it any longer. But no. Cat on arm is more important.

Working on my Novel

Gail Bridges, the Author

I was at the Emerald City Writer's Conference last October. I'd reserved a table at the book fair...because I am an honest-to-god REAL LIFE author now! I have three books! I have posters and swag and the whole bit. I asked the lady at the next table to abandon her post for a moment - this was about two minutes before the doors were to open - and snap this image of my first time publicly being an author.

Going to the Coffee Shop

My husband took this shot of me last week. I was out the door, on my way to Zoka (the second "Intrepid Eavesdropper" location). "Hey," I said, handing him the camera, "do you think you could take an Author Photo of me? Right now, right here?" He moved me from place to place and took probably six shots, none of which would come close to being an Author Photo. But what the heck, it was fun.

At the Coffee Shop

(Actually, it's the Starbucks in the Hospital Lobby.

I have yet to take a photo at Zoka.)

Healing Hands

This shot was taken four days ago. I set it up as an image for an article or blog post I plan to write soon, about the interview I did last week with an Energy Healer. I've been doing a lot of research for my new novel, "Over the Edge". I'm conducting a series of fascinating interviews with REAL LIFE healers and gathering boatloads of material.

But I needed a cool illustration for the post. So I dragged my son over and asked him to hold hands with me. Wonderful 22-year-old that he is, he didn't even complain. We tried various poses with our hands, and were shocked that it wasn't as easy as we thought it would be! My husband helped. He took picture after picture, shaking his head and saying, "Nope. Not this one. Try again." It took a while, but we finally hit gold!

That's it for now.

For my next blog post, I will share the final few images and describe how I altered them. Thanks for reading!

Interview With a Healer

Healing Hands:

Fascinating Research for my New Novel

I have recently started a new erotic horror novel set in the same world as Inn on the Edge. Dahlia, my earnest and good-hearted main character, enters an Institute that teaches Curative Touch and soon finds herself tangling with Sex Demons. They manipulate her into helping them with their dark, twisted ulterior motives. Along the way, Dahlia will discover that she is a talented sexual healer. And, to make her choices even harder, she'll fall in love with a young Sex Demon.

The book is coming together - but I have so many questions: What exactly is touch healing? What sorts of maladies can a touch healer help with? What does society think of what they do? I am especially interested in what the healing feels like from the healer's point of view.

I had to interview a touch healer.

Gloria - a pseudonym - is a real person. She is a lovely massage therapist I've known for several years. I only recently learned that she has studied healing touch extensively, and has untold hours of hands-on experience. Her healing work is separate from her massage therapy work. I was thrilled when she agreed to this interview.

~~~The Interview~~~

Me: What is your background?

Gloria: I am a practicing massage therapist, with the anatomy and physiology coursework required for licensing in the State of Washington. I also study such things as herbal remedies, cranial-sacral massage, infant massage, and more. I also am very interested in Maya Healing techniques, and have attended several in-depth workshops in Central America with native Maya healers. I am always educating myself, incorporating everything I can into my work. I do not reject Western Medicine - I just feel like there are other, ancient, more gentle methods that are beneficial alongside it.

Me: Can you tell me how you approach a healing?

Gloria: First, I do "triage" - I listen to what the person wants, then decide if that's what they really need. For example: a person might want me to work on their knee, they might tell me it aches and hurts and can I please, please help with it. Well, I might or I might not work on the knee itself. I have to see if the knee joint is actually where the problem stems from. The patient doesn't always know. I'll do an evaluation. It may be that I'll decide that it is really the hip joint that needs work and not the knee.

Me: Do you prepare yourself emotionally before a session?

Gloria: Good question. I do prepare myself, I do have rituals. If I didn't, I could easily become overwhelmed, and if that were to happen, I wouldn't be much help to anyone.

Me: What are your rituals?

Gloria: I need barriers. I need to separate myself from the work. Rituals help. I have a calming, cleansing hang-washing ritual that I've used for years, using herbs and spring water and a pouring vessel that has special meaning to me. I wash my hands after every healing, outdoors if at all possible. Of course I constantly do hygienic hand-washing also, for obvious reasons, but that's different. My ritual hand-washing is deeper, more emotional, not meant to clean, but to spiritually cleanse.

Me: Any other rituals?

Gloria: I put myself into a different mind-space when I heal. To do this, I always change into my "practitioner clothes" - which is soft, comfortable clothing that I only use for this purpose. I don't do a healing in my everyday street clothes, it doesn't give me the emotional separation I need.

I prefer to do the healings in a quiet, secluded spot, preferably the same place every time. This applies for massages also. If this isn't possible, then I pay extra attention to my rituals.

Me: Is there anything you find especially difficult?

Gloria: Yes. People's need can devour you if you let it. I can't give people in need everything they ask for. One of the hardest things I learned was how and when to hold part of myself back.

It's not something I like to talk about, but there are the rare people that I call "Black Pits". I have to be super careful not to let this sort of person's problems rub off on me or overwhelm me. "Black Pit" people can have a miasma of upset and hurt hanging to them, troubles so powerful they seem capable of clinging to other people as well. That is why I find it necessary sometimes to hold myself behind careful barriers.

I do want to point out that these "Black Pit" people are not the same as the "people in need" I just mentioned. I also want to point out that in both cases, the hardest part is not being able to completely stop their pain.

Me: What does the healing feel like, from your perspective?

Gloria: Sometimes, if I'm having a really good day, I can read a person a bit. This is a sense of feeling what's inside of a person, inside their body. Sometimes I can feel problem areas with my hands before even touching a person, just from passing my hands above their body. It feels rather like a hot spot. This is something I've developed with time and practice. I'm pretty sure that, if I wanted to, I could work on this skill enough to be able to find tumors. There are healers who can do this, who are tumor hunters. But I'm not at that point.

When I first started, I discovered that I could sometimes read a person and know their soul, know everything about them. But I quickly understood that it was too much. It was an invasion of their privacy. It was too much information for me to deal with, too overwhelming, too many things that I didn't want to know about a client. So I trained myself not to "look" at a person that way. I haven't done that kind of looking into a person for twenty years.

Me: What else do you find helpful to your work?

Gloria: Timing is crucial. I have to stick to hour-long sessions. When I first began, I would let sessions with friends and clients get away from me. Sometimes they'd go for hours and hours. Some of the longest sessions were four or five hours long, which was ridiculous. It was a breach of boundaries and a terrible expenditure of healing energy. I didn't understand at first that over-doing it would make me feel sick the next day.

The exception to the time limit is when I'm studying. Sometimes I do special healing workshops where the healing sessions are allowed to be much longer, so students can explore these same issues in a controlled environment.

Me: How about sexual healing? Have you ever heard of that?

Gloria: Absolutely. There is a huge population of healers, and some of them do sexual healing and take it very seriously. And yes, some of them have sex with clients as a valued part of their work. Look up "sexual surrogacy" to find information about sexual healers.

Thank you to Gloria for allowing me this glimpse into the workings and inner thoughts of a healer. As well as being fascinating, you've shared invaluable information which will be a great help to me in my writing. You can put your hands on me anytime.