I want to thank everyone here at Fresh Fiction for inviting me to blog today. I was sitting at my computer this morning trying to settle on an interesting topic for today’s blog. My new series? My future plans? My typical writing day? Instead, I found myself thinking about the gift of writing—or should I say gifts, plural. Writing has brought so many layers of good to my life—new friends, new challenges, new skills—that describing those gifts would take all day. Then, the best “gift” of my life announced she was awake for the day. That was the moment I realized a toddler’s chattering was the perfect place to begin—and focus—this blog. Did writing bring about my two-year-old? No, but my writing career taught me to work hard and chase my dreams. In life, just as in writing, there aren’t any shortcuts. Our daughter came into our lives after a ten-year pursuit of parenthood, and I wouldn’t trade a single moment of the journey. After all, each step brought me to this wonderful moment filled with alphabet songs and questions and belly laughs. My writing journey has been no different. Writing—like life—is about doing the legwork. Writing is about believing…
It’s an occupational hazard. Authors don’t mean to spy and eavesdrop on people but it happens. Recently, I found myself at a restaurant for a Sunday lunch with my family. It was an upscale microbrewery/sports bar. All dark wood, brass, and plasma TVs everywhere. Great food, too. But even with all that going on around me, I was riveted by a couple two tables away. I couldn’t hear a word they were saying. But their bodies were talking- shouting. I just couldn’t help myself from “listening”. He was huge. I live an area that a lot of pro football players call home, so he may have been one. Regardless, he was at least 6’ 4”, blond ponytail, hulking shoulders. Gorgeous, frankly, with this interesting untamed air. Normally, he would have been enough all by himself to snag my attention. But he was sitting across the table from a woman. She was short and petite with dark, pixie hair. She had this interesting guarded expression. Gorgeous was leaning literally halfway across the table as he spoke, shoulders forward, eyes on Pixie. Whatever he was saying, he meant it. And his attention was nowhere but on her. She looked at her fingernails,…
Why is there no period of perfection between zits and gray hair? Why can’t I ever be at the beginning of a trend instead of two years behind it? When exactly do I get to feel like a grown-up? When I grow up, I want to be that confident woman who smiles more than she worries and who is happy with her body because it is strong and healthy. I want to be the woman who gets dressed only once, who can wear a scarf with flair, who puts on paisley without ever considering if it makes her look just a bit like an overstuffed sofa. When I grow up I want to meet new people and remember their names and their jobs and what makes them laugh–and never ever stare at them the next year without any fragment of recognition. When I grow up I want to be on time for all appointments, wash my hair before it needs it and be on first name basis with everyone at the gym instead of the ice cream parlor. When I grow up I want to never be late with the light bill or lose a check or forget to give…
When a central character is still deeply in love with someone you and I would judge harshly, for, say, murder, that presents a challenge for the writer. How can readers be sympathetic to a misguided, love-struck protagonist? And does a writer necessarily have to sympathize with him?I know all about this challenge. In my debut novel JANEOLOGY, Tom Nelson is still in love with the woman who has destroyed his life. He misses her. He craves her. He wants to touch her. He wants to talk to her over a cup of coffee the way they used to as friends. But this is never going to happen. The story begins with Tom’s horrific discovery that his wife Jane drowned their toddler son. An act he feels is so out of character that it defies logic. Now, he judges himself harshly for still loving the woman he thought he knew. The world quickly vilifies Jane and urges him to join in their group hate. If that weren’t enough, prosecutors charge him with ‘failure to protect’ believing he should have known Jane was ill and shielded his child from her. This legal charge only makes Tom delve deeper into questioning his love…
At the end of last year, I decided that 2008 would be different. I had several goals: 1) start a new novel 2) work on my novel first thing every day, even if I had to get up an hour earlier 3) find or create paying work that I enjoyed more than what I was currently doing to earn a living 4) sell my detective series to another publisher By March 1, I had accomplished the three things I had control over—although not the way I expected to. January first, I began to outline my new Detective Jackson novel with working title, SECRETS TO DIE FOR. I began getting up at five o’clock to write for an hour before I went to work. At the time, I worked as an editor for an educational publisher, a demanding job that left me too mentally exhausted at the end of the day to feel creative enough to fill blank page after blank page (which is how a novel comes into existence). Next, I started sending out letters to agents, publishers, and writers, announcing my services as a fiction editor. And I contacted some corporate clients and magazines about nonfiction editing as well….
Sometimes it’s hard to get into a romantic frame of mind when its time to sit down and write, even when a deadline looms. For instance today. Two days ago, the sewer line from my 200 year old house to the street suddenly burst sending raw sewage into the air and across the yard. Yeah, how romantic is that? And then I see the outrageous bill, for digging up my entire yard to replace piping–none of which it seems is covered by insurance. There is no working plumbing in the house last night or today, the dogs had to be shuttled off to a kennel and the kids to a neighbor’s house. So I have a little time alone–except for all of the plumbers with backhoes, shovels and long lengths of pipe–and it’s time to write a love scene. So how do I do it? How does an author write a rich, emotional scene when the world is not cooperating? I know of a fabulous New York Times bestselling romance author who pours herself a glass of white wine and then sits down to write three love scenes all in one sitting. I know another who watches sexy movies. I…
Genesis Beach, my first novel (published in 2007) tells the story of an investigative intern on North Carolina’s Crystal Coast, who is trying to solve the murder of a millionaire. Imagine her surprise when she discovers he was beaten to death with a sock! She pursues a prime suspect who is a slippery rascal (to borrow a phrase from the movie, Pretty Woman). While in pursuit, Logan Hunter must deal with a hurricane that wipes out most of her worldly possessions. At the same time she is having recurring sleep terrors that threaten to derail her when she realizes she may have been molested as a toddler. Her strength and determination keep her in the hunt, and she nails the killer even though she trusted the wrong person. Just North of Luck evolved out of my need to carry on with Logan Hunter’s character. (Reader feedback indicated that she was likable and, perhaps, worthy of a few more adventures.) Logan is assigned to corral some bootleggers in the remote mountains of North Carolina when two murders occur. Once the SBI (State Bureau of Investigation) is called in, Logan takes the lead and teams up with hunky Chase Railey, a local…
Most writers know – and dread – it: the horrid mid-book blues. That point when the sizzle disappears from your story and it becomes the most awful thing written in the history of mankind. No, indeed, the most awful thing written in the history of the whole wide world! Really, if dinosaurs would have been able to write, even they would have produced so much better stories than you! You are a fraud! And should you ever manage to finish the book and to hand it in, your poor editor and agent will most certainly drop dead because of the awfulness of it. And it will be all your fault! As you might have guessed, I am intimately acquainted with the aforementioned horrid mid-book blues. Only in my case, it’s doesn’t happen when I reach the middle of a book, no, it usually happens when I reach the end of chapter 3. I happily scribble away for the first 50-75 pages and then, all of a sudden, I’m stuck, my characters are stuck, my Muse has vanished, and the story has screeched to a perfect standstill. What is a poor writer to do? 1) Phone a friend and whine. 2)…
My first novel, MADAPPLE, is coming out this May from Alfred A. Knopf. The publisher sent out advance copies of MADAPPLE to book buyers and reviewers. A surprisingly large number of these readers have asked me: “Why is this a teen book?” “Did you write it for teens?” “Shouldn’t the book be categorized as adult fiction?” Truth be told, I didn’t write MADAPPLE for a specific audience. I just wrote the book I wanted to write. My editor sees MADAPPLE as a “crossover” book—that is, a book that spans the genres of adult literary fiction and young adult (“YA”). Yet, because of the way the publishing industry works, the book must be categorized as one genre or the other. Hence, it is being marketed as YA with the hope that it will reach adults as well. When I was a teenager, J.D. Salinger, Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Hermann Hesse, Harper Lee and Sylvia Plath were among my favorite authors. I was captivated by the antics of Harper Lee’s Scout. I identified with Salinger’s Franny. Were these authors thought of as YA authors? No. Yet, today, I think some of their books certainly would be categorized as YA. The question: Does it matter?…
A friend recently celebrated her wedding on the beach of Cayman Islands. The bright blue sky, turquoise water, and white sandy beach provided a romantic setting for the couple in love. The photos from her wedding remind me of my April release – No One But You – that beautifully highlights a bride standing on a beach ready and waiting for her perfect match. No One But You, Harlequin Kimani Romance, introduces the first in the Ladies of Distinction series about sorority sisters who pledged together and now face life after university. Basically after college, Jackson Thomas chose his family business over Sarafina Lovell. Now Jackson is back, and Sara plans to give him one sultry goodbye kiss to prove she’s moved on. His sizzling kiss awakens memories of passion too hot to ignore.… I am happy to have Essence Bestseller Francis Ray share her thoughts about my book: No One But You . . . is romance at its best – fun, sexy, memorable. Although I write romances, I am an avid romance reader. From 13 or 14 years old, I read romances that had lush settings in Australia, Argentina, English countryside, and so on. Yes, I could have…