Category Archives: writing

Erotic Romance Does Not Mean Porn

Anya Bast has a new release coming out in June called Witch Fire. Witch Fire is the story of a young woman who discovers she has magical ability associated with the element of air. She is paired up with a male witch who controls fire, and let me tell you, the sparks do fly!

Anya writes steamy paranormals, but more satisfying than the sex (which is HOT) is the character development and engaging plot. I was not a regular reader of erotic romance, but with the likes of Anya and my other pal Ellie Marvel writing the genre, I’ve happily expanded my scope.

Some folks mistakenly equate erotic romance with pornography. They couldn’t be more wrong. In a good erotic romance there are characters you want to have as friends, who you care about; the story lines are well plotted and exciting. The love scenes enhance the story, bringing the hero and heroine together on an emotional level as well as a physical one. Anya and Ellie give you the whole package.

To me, porn is a collection of sex scenes strung together by the thinnest of story threads without the benefit of characterization. Porn is meant to titillate, not tell a story. But that’s my opinion. Your idea may differ.

Check out Anya and Ellie. You’ll like what you see. And buy their books!!!

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Suspending Reality

{This is a post related to writing. Don’t be shocked.}

My friend Sharron and I were discussing one of her upcoming books. She told me she needed to work on the ending because it wasn’t quite right. I asked what she needed to tweak, knowing it wasn’t the fact her heroine had certain physical abilities beyond those of normal humans. No, she said, it was a problem with speed and water. She was concerned someone would scoff.

I completely understood. While her heroine’s bizarre biological makeup could be readily accepted (Sharone does a great job of relating the scientific whys and wherefores without killing you with it), a glitch in physics may throw you out of a story. Well, me and Sharron anyway. There are Laws of Physics. With biology, they’re more like basic guidelines.

What it boils down to is the suspension of belief. It’s what we rely on to keep a reader in the story. One or two goofs, even if they’re fairly minor, might make a reader toss the book across the room. And we don’t want that. Sometimes it’s easier to believe a far-fetched plot than to have a plot point that’s too close to reality come off as wrong.

One case we discussed was the comparison of the TV shows “October Road” and “Drive”. In “October Road” (rant in an earlier post), this guy goes off and leaves his hometown without calling or writing to his girlfriend for TEN YEARS! My first thought: What a crock. Add to that, the girlfriend has a son about 9 years old and claims he’s not the guy’s kid. Hmmm….so right after he left for this supposedly short trip, you screwed around? Niiiiice. These are not the kind of people I want to know about. Where’s the remote?

“Drive,” on the other hand, is about an illegal cross-country road race where the participants are gathered via some nefarious means. The main character, played by the yummy Nathan Fillion : ), is searching for his missing wife who was kidnapped by the race coordinators to get him to race. Plus they go through all kinds of mind games with him and the other participants. The concept is ludicrous. Yet, I’m willing to set that aside because it’s the world the creators have set up. And because of my lust for Nathan Fillion, but that’s neither here nor there. (NOTE: It looks like “Drive” may have been cancelled, with its final episodes airing in July. Dang!)

As paranormal writers, we can pretty much be guaranteed that readers will go along for the ride if we say our characters have shape-shifting ability, see ghosts, drink blood to survive, or what have you. A reader picking up such a story has already “agreed” to accept your world. As long as you have good characters to care about and can give a decent explanation (without the dreaded info dumping) for why this phenomenon occurs, you’re probably good to go. But defy physics without explaining how, or say a soldier in the US Army uses a type of weapon a G.I. would never be issued, or tell me some teenager will leave home and never even send a postcard to his girlfriend, and your believability goes out the window. And possibly your chance at having someone pick up another one of your books, unless it is to mock it.

Not that I’d ever do that }: )

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Back in the Saddle…Sort of

I’ve been back from my trip to the East coast for well over two weeks and am still trying to resume normalcy. Okay, relative normalcy. I know I need to get my butt in the chair and write. Not on this blog, but for my WIP. I have the story gelled in my head. I’d even managed to jot down a scene or so while I was away and got that into my home computer this past week. But I still feel off kilter. Why? Well, I have a truckload of excuses: Emotional upheaval, DH traveling for weeks on end, trying to sell our house and buy another in a different town, kids’ schedules, car repairs, interesting website I heard about, the weather. Feel free to use one or more. But I know the real reason. I’m sure you do too.

So, I’m going to be a good little writer and get more work done. Really. As soon as I check out this website….

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Writers of the Future

I am fortunate enough to be a stay at home mom, which means I can help out in my kids’ classrooms and schools. Most of the time I grade papers, listen to the kids read, and help serve lunch once a week. For the last few days, however, I’ve been helping my oldest daughter’s fourth grade class with a writing assignment.

They are supposed to write a fiction or nonfiction story of about 750 words. I am not a good short story writer, but I figured I could help a bunch of 10 year olds. Some of their stories lacked detail and/or plot. We had to find ways to expand their ideas without needless padding. Some were well over the allotted word count and ran amok with repetetive phrasing, unclear sentences, and meandering narrative. A few strokes of Mrs. P’s magic red pencil helped clear that up. The biggest problems seemed to be grammar and formatting, but overall they created an amusing variety of works. Ten-year-olds have some interesting ideas. They aren’t afraid to go way the heck out there, which is so fun to deal with. They don’t worry about conventional wisdom or what the other kid is writing. They just do their thing. They’re also open to your suggestions and don’t balk at grammatical rules.

I think many of us could take a lesson or two from these writers of the future.

1. Write what you love, or at least like a lot. Throw yourself into a story and let it flow. Editing can come later, and it will, but enjoy the time with your muse when you get it. Don’t write to the current market if you aren’t enthusiastic about the topic or genre. Readers are a savvy lot and will sense your apathy. And besides, who wants to toil away on a project they aren’t excited about?

2. Yield to a “higher authority” when it’s appropriate. If your editor/agent/crit partners all call you on a particular issue (grammar, plot flow, pacing, etc.) consider that they may be right. Give the changes a try and see how they work for you. Even some of us over the age of 10 have something to learn.

3. A fun font will make your story shine, even if it’s bad. Okay, that’s not quite true. Use a fun font, if you must, as you’re writing, but be sure to work on your craft and change the font to something more acceptable to crit partners, agents, editors, and fourth grade teachers. Hey, we all have to grow up sometime.

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A Season of Hope

This has nothing to do with the holiday.

I wrote this a few years ago, after my first full manuscript was requested and then, well, just read it.

PITY PARTY FOR ONE

“I’m sorry to have to tell you this over the phone…”

Those crushing words come from an editorial assistant in New York. I called to ask about the manuscript they have had for the past six months. It seems there was a paperwork mishap
somewhere along the line and I should have received a rejection letter earlier.
“That’s okay,” I say with more pep in my voice than I feel. I thank her for her time and hang up.
Rats. Damn!
I was looking forward to signing a big, fat, multi-book contract with one of the largest publishers in the business. Wallowing in delusions of grandeur, I had imagined whirlwind promotional tours, multi-city book signings, and the New York Times Best Sellers list.
Me, and about a zillion other writers.
I stare at the phone for a few moments, wondering what was wrong with my story. Hopefully they will send the delinquent rejection letter and it will be more specific than “Not what we’re looking for,” and more personal than “Dear Author”.
Hope. The fodder that keeps writers putting pen to paper. Or rather, in this Age of Technology, fingers to keyboard.
This is not my first rejection. It won’t be my last. But in this moment, it is my worst.
Life jars me out of contemplation. There are kids to care for, a house to clean, meals to prepare. After dinner I have a commiserating phone conversation with my best friend, a writer who has been on the receiving end of rejection and eventually got published. She tells me that my day will come. From her mouth to the publishers’ ears, I pray.
The kids are bathed and in bed. The house is quiet except for the low murmur of the television. Sometimes I write after the kids are asleep, but not tonight.
Tonight I feel like I made a grave error when I decided to try my hand at writing. I know I shouldn’t take the rejection personally, but how can I not? It’s like disrobing in front of someone for the first time and having them reach over to turn out the light, or snicker.
I need a drink. Not to drown my sorrows, just to numb them for a little while. We don’t keep anything stronger than wine in the house, unless you count cough medicine and vanilla extract.
I rummage around the bottom of my refrigerator and come up with a bottle of merlot. As I’m pouring, I spy the brownies my neighbor brought over the day before. Perfect.
I sit on the couch, watching television, sipping and nibbling. Wine and chocolate, a balm for most of life’s ills.
I would have preferred to be celebrating my first sale.
After my second glass, I go to bed. The next morning I feel marginally better, but I have a headache. I am such a wuss. An untalented lightweight.
Something gives me a mental kick in the butt.
Snap out of it! That was one person’s opinion. You got further than most writers do when they asked for the full manuscript. So quit being such a baby and get back to work!
The voice in my head sounds like my own, my mother’s and my best friend’s all rolled into one. Not a voice to ignore.
It takes me the rest of the morning to heed the directive. I sit at my computer, fingers hovering over the keyboard. I’m almost afraid to touch the plastic letters.
Don’t make me hurt you, the voice warns.
The pity party is over. Time to go, folks. Sweep up the crumbs, take out the trash, and get ready for the week ahead.
I shake trepidation out of my hands and click on the file of another project. My fingers fly over the keys as my imagination soars. I polish and refine, turning a phrase here and making a scene come to life there.
This is a good story. Maybe it will be this story that gets me THE CALL.
I’ll make sure there’s a bottle of celebratory wine in the house before I send it out. There’s always hope.
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Adaptation

A friend of mine recently said something along the lines of “You should write about living and writing in Alaska, like your blog says.” I haven’t written about being in the semi-Far North in a bit, and nothing particular about writing up here. So, here we go. Sort of. Not really : )

First, a little background. Originally, I’m from Long Island, NY. As a teen I didn’t see myself staying in “civilization” for my entire life. I went to college in a small town in North Dakota, then in Fairbanks. I was on my way to Wyoming for a stint with black-footed ferret re-introduction when I stopped off in Oregon to visit my then friend Scott. We got engaged (two weeks before I had to leave for three months), and then we were in Oregon for many years before a job in Alaska popped up for him.

I love living up here. I love the mountains and the ocean, and I have both when I look out my window. I love the moose browsing in the yard and having their babies next door. I love the fact it rarely gets over 70 in the summer. I love that it’s almost guaranteed we’ll have snow on the ground for Thanksgiving, definitely for Christmas, and sometimes for Memorial Day.

What does my penchant for cold climates have to do with writing? Everywhere I’ve lived I’ve had to deal with adjusting to the world around me. In biological terms, it’s adapt or perish. Adaptation is key in many aspects of life, particularly when you live in an environment where going outside without proper protection can freeze your skin in minutes. So you put on your bunny boots, parka, and Gore-Tex gloves to trundle to the mailbox 100 feet from your front door. You plug in you car’s oil pan heater overnight, then start it up 20 minutes before you need to leave so the engine gets a chance to warm up (my gas mileage absolutely bites in the winter), because driving a cold car at 60 below zero is uncomfortable as well as damaging. And yes, I know this from personal experience, having broken my first vehicle this way.

As a writer, adaptation can mean making changes that will give you a more marketable product, or adjusting your writing schedule around ballet and soccer practice. Sitting in front of your computer or whatever and not looking up to see what’s going on around you is dangerous. Sure, write the story of your heart, hell, write the story of your spleen, but keep in mind that a 300,000 word literary epic relating life and death to dust mite reproduction just may not be the thing to catch an editor or agent’s eye. And if you have to dash off bits and pieces of your story on fast food joint napkins while the kids play, do that too.

The first two books I wrote aren’t going to cut it for now. Maybe some time in the future. Maybe they will never sell. So I shifted gears and wrote a completely different kind of story. I don’t consider it writing to market, because by the time you do that the market has changed. It’s writing what’s more marketable. I hope. Like donning my warm woolies for a five minute walk to the mailbox, I know what I need to do to survive.

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Haunted Wins FF&P Contest’s Romantic Elements Category

I’m pleased to announce that Haunted has won the Romantic Elements category in the RWA’s Fantasy, Futuristic and Paranormal Special Interest Chapter’s On the Far Side contest. This is an annual contest for those who write fiction with an otherworldly twist. Or set in the future. Or with time travel. Or containing elves, warriors, etc. Or, in my case, ghosts.

Congratulations to all the contestants, and thank you to the first round and final judges. Also, a big thanks to the contest coordinators, Andrea Wilder, Amber Wentworth, and Victoria Stark who kept things running smoothly. Well, it went smoothly from my point of view : ) I was a judge (not in my category, of course) as well as a contestant, and these three ladies were available to answer all kinds of questions we came up with.

The On the Far Side contest is a great way to receive feedback from other writers who “get” your ideas, as well as having a chance for your work to be seen by agents and editors who handle such a varied genre/subgenre. The contest gets better and better every year. Way to go everyone!

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Talk About Your Short Stories

Wired Magazine asked established science fiction, fantasy and horror writers to write a story in six words or fewer. Six! I can’t even say good morning to someone in less than five. (Though you can’t count before coffee greetings, because grunts aren’t real words, right?)
Anyway, go check out the site. These people are amazing. I want to be like them when I grow up.

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Building Exposure Muscle

The first round of voting for the American Title III contest begins in a few days (October 16, in case I hadn’t mentioned it before) (which happens to be my husband’s birthday, so maybe that’s a good sign!). My fellow finalists and I are understandably nervous. I’ve finaled in contests before, and while I almost always get antsy when I send in entries, I recover quickly and get on with my life. This one is much bigger and has me feeling more naked than usual.

When I enter contests or submit to agents and editors, there’s a comfortable barrier of anonymity. Many contests require no identification on submissions. Works for me. Agents or editors reading my query may struggle with pronouncing my name–if I’m lucky enough to have garnered that much attention : )—but they don’t know who I am.

The American Title contest is my first experience where so much exposure is expected and encouraged. Self-promotion does not come naturally to me, but I’m working on it. I know that when I get published more will be necessary if I want to sell well. Which I do.

I’m not afraid of going out there and getting people to read my work, I’m just not used to it. I’ll equate it with something else I recently started: working out. The first few days of hitting the gym had me achy and wondering what the hell I was trying to do to myself, but after a month now, I feel pretty good and look forward to it. It’s good for me. In time it’ll get easier. And if it seems too easy, then maybe I need to push harder. I have to look at publicity that way too.

So, pass the Ben-Gay. I’ve got work to do.

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Deadline Hell

No, not mine. My friend Sharron. I’m one of her crit partners and have had the privilege of reading her work before most everyone else. And though this week has been running her ragged, she took the time to look over a few things for me. THAT, dear readers, is friendship. And I’m lucky enough to have several in this business willing to put up with my dumb questions and thick headedness, especially when it comes to technology. But more on my gushing about helping hands in our next episode.

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