Cannonball

         Well, it’s February, closing in on Valentine’s Day, and that means romance novel bashing is going to happen more often than usual. Good enough reason to cannonball back into the blogging waters, because my waters are boiling. Tee hee, look at all that ladyporn, giving women unrealistic expectations of real life, those books are all the same, blah blah blah, haw haw, shake head at the stupid love-deprived women who read and write them, so silly, so sad, so…stop. Okay? Stop.

          It’s not cute, it’s not funny, and it doesn’t make the detractors look smarter. I listened to a radio segment on this topic today, same old same old, and, when combined with recent blog posts by writer friend E. Catherine Tobler, it produced this.
There’s been buzz lately in some science fiction and fantasy circles, over the treatment and depiction of women, which I think is an interesting point. Since I write and read romance, which is largely (but not entirely) written and read by women, our numbers skew in the other direction, regarding gender, but there is a common ground here. I’m talking women. We have the right to write and read whatever we please, and it doesn’t matter what anybody else thinks. Still, some people don’t seem to get that, and that puzzles me. It puzzles me a lot.

         Every genre has conventions. Every one. So why is it worthy of derision when the whole point of the story is a woman getting what she wants out of life? Romance is the genre where the woman always wins. She selects a life partner who is faithful to and proud of her, who supports her, respects her and if he’s not actually helping her to achieve her goals, he’s shaking pompoms from the bleachers and cheering her on. He’s her equal partner, be he duke, cowboy, CEO, small town farmer, RN, or what-have-you.

        I’ve heard the “oh, romances are all the same” argument since I was sneaking books from my mother’s nightstand. It wasn’t true then, and it isn’t true now. So, historicals are the same as contemporaries, as fantasy or futuristic, or romantic suspense, erotic as inspirational, as YA, as traditional Regencies, as westerns, as category, as single title, as serials and anthologies and multiple author continuities? New subgenres are emerging constantly, veteran ones declared dead but then coming back in a slightly different form, to go do their magnificent thing all over again in a brand new way. I love the vibrant feel of this genre, my genre, and no, I don’t think the books are all the same. Read a few and that becomes plain.

        Neither are the people attached to these stories all the same. Mostly women? Yes, and there is nothing at all wrong with that. Some are stay at home parents or caregivers. Some are military personnel, pilots, scientists, clergy of various faiths, teachers, executives, lawyers, retail workers, businesspeople, artists, librarians, academics, holders of GEDs and PhDs. Married, happily or otherwise, single, happily or otherwise, and every point on the spectrum in between. What we do have in common is the love of a good story, that of two people who overcome obstacles and choose to stick together for life. Don’t see what’s stupid or cringeworthy there.

       The books are all porn? No. Porn is porn. Romance novels are about the emotional journey of two characters. This may include opening the bedroom door, to small or great degree, or it may include closing it entirely. I’ve read very effective romances all along the spectrum from inspirational to erotic romances. Sex is a part of most romantic relationships, and that doesn’t only mean explicit depictions of the actual act. It’s the unique appeal of one person to the other, the “can’t take my eyes off him/her” that makes this person somehow different from all other potential mates. It’s different for every couple, because we’re talking individuals here, and how they go from two “me’s” to one “we.”

         I don’t understand this bashing. I probably won’t, and most likely, most of the bashers don’t care what I think. They’ve chortled, slapped each other on the back and moved on to something more worthy, whatever that might be. They’ll be back at some future opportunity, and when they are, they’ll probably miss, once again, the real point of such articles. They provide opportunity for romance readers and writers to have a good laugh, blow off some steam and then go back to reading and writing some awesome books.

I’ll close with this: when I run into a romance basher in person, I ask them which books they read that gave them that impression. Not heard about, not saw the covers of, not read a snippet of the screen of a stranger’s Kindle on public transportation. Read. If the answer is none, they don’t know what they’re talking about, do they? If the answer is “none, could you recommend some?” then a new adventure is about to begin.

Keystrokes: Not a Cance in Ell 2 and Lynn Viehl Giveaway CORRECTION

First, the correction. The winner of the Lynn Viehl giveaway is BONNIE, whose name I'd mistyped as Bunny. Bonnie, please email me your contact information at annacbowling@gmail.com, and we will get that right out to you.

Last night, while shutting down the laptop, the nub came off my H key. Not what I'd wanted. I sat there for a moment, staring at the bare metal pad, blinking. Well. This is a new wrinkle. Too tired to panic, I made sure I had both pieces(I did) and had a look at aforementioned pad. Plate might be a better term, as there's no cushion or give. Looks like I am missing one of the metal prongs that would hold the key in place, and a quick perusal, this morning, of the internet, a dab of SuperGlue should reattach the nub. SuperGlue goes on the list.

This is an unexpected good thing. There is an antiquated but usable desktop in my office, with a full complement of keys, and I've been wanting to increase concentration by writing without internet connection. Perfect timing. I do like writing in longhand, but ever since Mark Twain, handwritten manuscripts have been a thing of the past. I have memories of working on this desktop, have written books and stories on it, and now, it sends out "welcome home" beacons. There is another laptop in the family, shared by my hubby and I, a gift from two dear friends, standing by. The desktop doesn't run Sims 3, is not and will not be connected to the internet, but those are good things. Fewer frills means fewer distractions, and I'm looking forward to that.

What techy challenges have given you a renewed appreciation of writing (or reading?)

Not a Cance in Ell

Two days ago, in the middle of a chat with a friend, the H key came off my laptop. One stroke it was there, the next, it was wobbly, and after that, it absconded. I put it back on, tried a stroke, and we're back to the wobble. Clearly, this is not going to work. I had to start thinking of options. H is kind of essential to what I do - how am I going to manage without it? What if my next hero and heroine are Henry and Helena?

The first thing that crossed my mind was to inform my husband (another H right there) that I would need a new computer sooner rather than later. Can't argue with that. I'm operating without 1/26th of my most essential tools. Combine this with the current laptop's advanced age, cracked casing and the fact that it's on its second battery and umpteenth power cord, and I should have an ironclad case. Timing, however, might be off. New computer, get in line.

Next option - write without the letter H. Once upon a time, I wrote a character who affected a Cockney accent, dropping his H's. Is he trying to send me a message? If so, couldn't he have done it without crippling my keyboard? (Though when he first barged into my head, he ruined a pair of leggings, so I wouldn't put it past him.)

Which brought me to the next option - consider this a sign that the whole writing thing may be a wrong turn. That lasted all of about half a second. Not a cance in ell was I turning back now. Only one thing left to do. Type on the nub. Which, as it turned out, wasn't that much of a hardship. Combine with intermittent attempts to press the key back onto the nub, some of which work, and some of which don't, and we're back in business.

Same computer, still working on same current projects, and while it's nice to have the actual key, I have found that typing on the nub can be done, without injury or discomfort. Losing an H is not an insurmountable obstacle, and for touch typers, makes a surefire "you are here" sign. Currently, the key is staying put, and I'm glad of that. Still, it's an experience, a funny story, and I know that if I have to function without an H key, I can.

NaNo Lessons and Lynn Viehl Giveaway Winner

I wasn't going to do NaNo this year. I'd done it before, won before and not won before, and last year, though I did okay on the word count, also wound up in a mental muscle cramp a good deal of the time and ended up putting a book of my heart on the back burner for all the debris to settle before it's time to revisit that story. Not the ideal outcome, but sometimes, we have to go through such places in our writing lives.

It wasn't until days before the start that I signed up this year, and decided that I had nothing to lose by doing something radically different. For me, this NaNo, this was...not count words. Fired up Zen Writer with a pretty background, did a lot of longhand writing, and decided to do what came naturally. Which turned out to be a) writing longhand first, and b) working scene to scene.

Also helpful was becoming involved in the social aspect of NaNo, something made easier by the fact that the kickoff party was held at my favorite coffee house, literally a two minute walk from my home. I didn't make it to most of the events, but the Facebook group for local NaNo people is still going strong. I met two new friends through the group. While I didn't make fifty thousand words, my goal wasn't a number, but a story, and that's what I got. I got to the end of my draft. I had fun.

The draft I have isn't perfect, and it's going to need some work, but the story is told, and that's a success. Not a NaNo win, but a success. I'll take it, and move on to the next project, with a new set of skills and a better knowledge of what works for me.

Speaking of moving on, let's move on to the big reveal...

Our lucky winner for the Lynn Viehl giveaway is....

:drumroll:

BUNNY Bunny, please contact me at: AnnaCBowling@gmail.com with your mailing address, and Lynn will get that big bundle o' treasures headed in your direction.

Ten Questions With Alina Adams

1) When did you first know you were a writer?

Well, according to my parents, my first words were “pencil” and “paper.” Only they were in Russian. And sounded nothing like the actual words. But, they knew what I meant.

2) What's the first thing you know for sure about a new story concept? Plot? Character? Something else?

I like to start with a concept, or a “what if?”

My 1998 AVON romance novel, Annie’s Wild Ride, began with a lyric from Stephen Sondheim’s Sunday in the Park With George, which went, “What made it so right together/Was what made it all wrong.” I was intrigued by the idea of writing a story where what initially attracted the characters to each other is the same thing that ended up breaking them up – and getting them back together, too.

The first book in the Figure Skating Mystery series I did for Berkley Prime Crime was inspired by the 2002 Olympic judging scandal. What if the judge who awarded the medal to the “wrong” winners was then murdered?

Once I have the theme, I then build the characters. And, if I do a good job of that, the characters then create their own plot. I just write it down.

3) What are the best and worst pieces of writing advice you’ve ever heard?

The best piece of writing advice I ever got was from my 12th grade AP English teacher. Like all kids who have a knack for words, I tended to write flowing, run-on sentences full of great metaphors and clever asides… that never quite made it to the point. He told me, “Think about what you want to say, and say it.” Twenty-plus years later, when I’m stuck staring at a blank page (and a looming deadline), I think about what I want to say, and say it. And then I think about the next thing I want to say, and I say that. Eventually the whole page gets filled up. And I’ve actually said something, to boot.

The worst piece of writing advice I ever got was “write the book of your heart.” No, write the book that an editor wants to buy. If you write enough of those, you will eventually be able to write the book of your heart. And you will be paid for it. And people might even be willing to read it.

4) Over the course of your career, you’ve written historicals, contemporaries, mysteries, a coffee-table book, a biography, soap opera tie-in novels, as well as online soap opera continuations…so far. What would you say defines an Alina Adams book? Is there a genre you haven’t written in yet that you’d like to try?

I’m a plot and character girl. I respect authors who have beautiful prose and lyrical descriptions full of inner retrospections that prompt readers to reconsider long-held and cherished beliefs. But, personally, I write fast-moving stories with colorful (and hopefully) witty characters. My favorite romantic comedy of all time is His Girl Friday, where the dialogue and story points fly fast and furious… and nothing particularly (or, at least, traditionally) romantic actually happens.

I grew up watching soaps (and wrote three tie-in novels for “As the World Turns” and “Guiding Light,” as well as the multimedia continuation of “Another World”, so to me the most important question to answer (and one I hope the reader is constantly asking) is: And then what happens?

As for a genre I would love to work in: Musical Theater. I love musical theater (see the Sondheim inspiration above). Alas, I have absolutely no talent in that regard. The closest I came to it was producing an ebook book for Dan Elish, “The Worldwide Dessert Contest: Enhanced Multimedia Edition”

5) Pretend you’ve met the rare reader who has never heard of medical romance. In one sentence, what is the appeal of this subgenre?

Love against a background of life and death.

6) Can we talk about Leo for a minute? This Russian-born paramedic may be a man of few words, but his strong heroic streak, both in life and in love, will send readers’ hearts racing. How did Leo find such inner strength to press on through his many challenges?

At one point, I was a volunteer for an organization called KidSave, which brings Russian orphans to the US in an attempt to find them forever families. Also, having been born Jewish in the former Soviet Union, I grew up surrounded by people who survived World War II and the Holocaust. Both experiences taught me that people – and especially children – have a phenomenal capacity to overcome horror and deprivation and turn it into bravery and compassion for others.

7) Alyssa, as well, undergoes a true heroine’s journey, finding the strength to choose what’s right over what’s safe. I’m struck by her observation that the emergency room is the most predictable place in the hospital, despite how chaotic it may seem. Can you tell us more about that?

I confess, I’m someone who loves predictability and knowing what’s coming up (so, of course, I became a freelance writer and TV producer because, really, what’s more steady, predictable and secure than writing and production as a career? An editor friend once told me that if I wrote myself as a character, she would send the manuscript back because it was inconsistent). But predictability comes in a variety of packages. In an emergency room, you never know what’s going to come rolling through the doors next, but you do know what you’re going to have to do to get the patient stabilized and passed on to the next specialist in line. The chaos in itself is predictable and, most importantly, if you feel confident in your skills to handle it – it’s controllable. For someone like Alyssa, having gotten her medical training in a war zone, she is more comfortable and familiar with the rhythms of an emergency room than she is around “normal” people and situations.

8) Besides the medical romance angle, “To Look For You” is a touching older woman/younger man romance, yet it’s Leo who brings a deep maturity to the relationship. Do you think Alyssa’s and Leo’s different backgrounds brought them to the same level of maturity?

Absolutely. As I said above, it’s amazing what children who’ve survived trauma can overcome and turn into a positive. Not that I advocate making life particularly difficult for your own children, but, the fact is, people who’ve never faced any sort of adversity are hardly interesting, either in fiction or real life. My number one turn on in a man is someone you can count on to keep it together in an emergency, and that, as a rule, comes from life experience.

9) Name five reasons why the romance genre needs more Russian, Jewish or Russian Jewish characters.

1) Diversity: I live in New York City and am a Russian Jew married to an African-American. Diversity is a huge buzzword in NYC and everyone claims to subscribe to it in theory. But, what my husband and I have found in practice is diversity means people of vaguely different colors who all think the same way. True diversity comes from people of different backgrounds who then come to different conclusions based on those backgrounds. Whenever I hear people decrying those who disagree with them as either “dumb” or “evil,” I always wonder if they’ve considered the possibility that those they’re vilifying have just lived different lives from them. Most characters in romance novels tend to be rather cookie cutter in backgrounds and outlooks and only superficially outside the mainstream. I think it’s fun to shake that up.
2) Education: It’s a chance to learn history outside of a textbook. “To Look for You” opens in Kosovo in 1999, during NATO’s self-proclaimed humanitarian bombing campaign in what was then Yugoslavia. It’s a tiny part of the overall story, but if readers pick up a bit of history along the way, I’m all for it!
3) Foreign Sales
4) It gets you off work for the Jewish holidays!
5) Everybody needs more borscht in their lives.

10) Surprise! We hid a parrot in your office during the writing of “To Look For You.” What three words or phrases did he learn while he was with you?

First of all, I would like to say this is the greatest question I have ever been asked in my life. I plan to open all conversations with it from now on.

Secondly… 1) This story is trying to kill me!
2) The best part of being a romance novelist is getting an email from your boss that says: Squelchy vaginas and hard, throbbing cocks make me very nervous
3) Shhh… Mommy is WORKING.

Never Too Late In More Ways Than One.

Never Too Late was concieved during a writing group I attended some years back, along with Melva Michaelian and M.P. Barker. We'd been given a suggestion and were to write whatever came to mind, keeping pen in motion, until the moderator called time. I don't think I had any idea what I was going to write, and then, there it was, and I was in turn of the century England (and later, Italy) in the mind of a heroine ready to chuck it all and go after what she's always wanted.

It wasn't until the story was complete and had spent some time marinating that I noticed I'd never given my heroine a first name, and calling her "Mrs. Sinclair" in query letters and promotional materials was going to get clunky. She ended up being Amelia, and I managed to slip that information in there in a not too clunky manner. Being that this was a novella, and e-publishing then was different from e-publishing now, I wasn't sure where a shorter work should go, but lo and behold, one of Awe-Struck E-books' then-co-owners was starting a new venture, and looking for such stories. Perfect fit, but then life happened, and "Never Too Late" ultimately went to Uncial Press, along with "Queen of the Ocean."

Today, while walking in the park, thinking about writing and future projects, I spotted a man with a long silver ponytail walking the path in front of me. He wore khaki shorts and had text tattoos on the back of both calves. Though I can't have tatoos myself for medical reasons, I'm intrigued by the art form, and of course wanted to see what his said. I stepped up my pace and then stopped in my tracks.

On the backs of both legs, in all capital letters, were the words, "Never Too Late." Important words, those, important enough for a man of some experience to have them inked onto his body more than once, big and bold. Nothing to do with my story, I am beyond sure, though I did make a sound not unlike a squeal at seeing those words. Only a small one, mind, and I did remember that it's not socially acceptable to chase down strangers and quiz them about their body art. Still, it does make me wonder. What, exactly, was the story behind this gent's tattoos? What was it never too late for, for him? Why on the calves, and why, for that matter, both calves instead of only one? Was the phrase a reminder? A warning? A mantra? A prayer? A motto? And why, for that matter, did this total stranger with this phrase, repeated, cross my path on that particular walk while I was thinking those particular thoughts? Coincidence, maybe. Grand design, maybe. Either way, pretty cool, and I headed for home, my writerbrain fortified. On with the next book. BTW, if you're curious about "Never Too Late" itself, you can read the first chapter and/or grab it here: https://www.uncialpress.com/never-too-late.html

Happy Dance Friday #118, Everything's Better With Monkees

Meant to post this bright and early, but then I opened a Word file, and well, :shifty eyes: I found I'd spent most of the day in England after an outbreak of the Black Death. Writing life will do that to a person. I regret nothing.

Only when I opened this file did I remember I hadn't blogged about the SYTYCD auditions or the first week of competition, (or blogged at all for roughly a month, eep,) so stay tuned. This looks like a really interesting year, but for now, this Monkees classic fits:

10 Questions With Lynn Viehl

I first discovered Lynn Viehl, not through her books, but through the world of art journaling, an art form that combines words and images to create an intensely personal form of expression. That led to her blog, Paperback Writer, which then led to discovering a versatile author who writes across several genres, and is generous with her expertise as well as loads of pretty things. Take a look at what Lynn is offering one lucky commenter today (click thumbnail to embiggen):



1) When did you know you were a writer?

I guess I first knew sometime around midnight on December 28th, 1974 (I was thirteen, and I'd just finished writing the last page of my first novel.)

2) What's the first thing you know for sure about a new story concept? Plot? Character? Something else?

Generally the characters come first to populate my knowledge base. Occasionally an idea shapes the story for me -- I once wrote a novel based solely on the words "carnival geek" -- but most of the time it's the characters.

3) What are the best and worst pieces of writing advice you've ever heard?

The best was "Whatever you do, protect the work" from author Susan Elizabeth Phillips. I have never once regretted following that advice.

I don't know exactly who is responsible for the worst, but it's that tiresome old adage of "Write what you know." Imagine how many fantastic books would never have been written if all writers followed that tiny-minded attitude. What rubbish.

4) How did the world of the Darkyn come to be?

I've always loved vampire fiction, and I began writing my own short stories back in 1998. The first one was a disaster because I tried following all the traditional vampire lore, which I find a little ridiculous. I trashed that story and decided to create my own mythology. It took another six years to fine-tune the Darkyn universe, but eventually I got there.

5) In one sentence, how would you define dark fantasy?

In fantasy the hero always defeats the monster; in dark fantasy sometimes the hero IS the monster.

6) The latest Lords of Darkyn novel, Nightbound (love that title, by the way,) features a supernatural stronghold disguised as a medieval theme park, a hero with secrets and a heroine with extraordinary theories. Can you give our readers a taste of why romance readers won't want to miss this one?

Glad you like the title, because it would be really hard to change now. I hope Nightbound will appeal to any reader who enjoys adventure, mystery and characters who cannot be classified as typical.

7) How does art journaling, or art in general, help or influence your writing?

Art is a great tool for a storyteller to use when you want to explore ideas beyond the boundaries of words. When I sketch a character or paint a setting, or even make a quilt in colors I've chosen as a story palette, I can better visualize those elements. The process of artwork also gives me time to think and make creative decisions that enrich the story when I do go back to the keyboard to write.

As for journaling -- something I've also been doing almost daily since 1974 -- it's a great way to work out ideas and chronicle the journey you take with every story.

8) What do you do when creatively blocked/empty/burned out?

I'm lucky in that I don't have to cope with writer's block or idea deficits, but I do frequently feel burned out, especially after I finish a novel. When that happens I try to recharge my batteries by getting some exercise and opening myself up to new sources of inspiration. That can be anything from taking a long walk and photographing nature to attending an art show and talking to the exhibitors while I admire their works. Sometimes just listening to a new CD while I clean the house from top to bottom helps, too.

9) If you could have an all expense paid trip to any time in history, where and when would you go? You may take one companion, real or fictional. How would you convince them to come with you?

If I could stay for a while, I'd go back to Galilee in 27 AD to see exactly what this carpenter from Bethlehem actually said and did during his ministry. I'd take Jorge Mario Bergoglio with me, and I don't think I'd need to say anything but "Let's go meet Jesus Christ in person" to get the new Pope to tag along.

If I couldn't stay, I'd like to visit an inn in Bavaria on April 20th, 1889, and take Simon Wiesenthal with me. I'd tell Simon that unless we do something the baby born there that day will grow up to murder 5.5 million Jews. I'm sure Simon would have some excellent ideas about how we might prevent that.

10) We've retrieved the parrot we hid in your office a while back, and now he won't stop saying "Toriana." Can you tell us more about that?

I thought I heard something chirping behind the filing cabinet. Toriana is the name of a Victorian-era America that exists in a universe parallel to our own, and in which I've set Disenchanted & Co., my new urban fantasy series. The first book, Her Ladyship's Curse, will debut in August, thanks to my publisher, Pocket Star, and my editor, Adam Wilson.

Thanks, Lynn, for stopping by. Readers, if you've been drooling over the gorgeous giveaway picture above, all you need to do is leave a comment below for a chance to win.

Happy Dance Friday #115 - Rita Hayworth, the Bee Gees and a snow day in March

Last night, I stayed up far too late, talking books with a reader friend :waves hi to Carolina: and woke to a gorgeous sight. More than the single inch of snow we'd been forecast, everything was blanketed under a stunning blanket of white, bare tree branches blanketed, and even more drifting down. It's still coming. DH ambled out of the kitchen, asking if anybody wanted French toast and bacon. As it turns out, it was cinnamon French toast, which makes it even better. That made it official. Snow day.

Our household contains only adults, and DH still had to go in, but it still counts. Still counts as well even though I'm heading down to the coffee house for a writing session, because that's what I want to do. So what's the difference? By my standards, a lifting of the normal restritions or regulations. The chance to breathe and step back from the every day and ask what would be the best thing for this moment. What would give pleasure? What would get us ready for the return to normal life, stronger, more rested and refreshed?

For me, the answer was immediate. I stayed in my pajamaas slightly longer than usual, because eating surprise cinnamon French toast should not be done while wearing regular clothes. My brain meandered back to the conversation of the night before, of the many things I love about historical romance; the mental journey to another time and place, the chance to climb in the skins of hero and heroine and live not only through the time but through the love story. Which is a good place for a writer of historical romance to be.

Which is also a good place for a happy dance. Bee Gees make me happy and heroines who make history make me happy, so finding the two mushed together is even more fitting for the specialness of a snow day.



What makes a snow day or other found day extra special for you?

Welcome, Scottish Seduction Blog Tour

What's better than having one historical romance author come to one's cyber home to chat? Having two. I'm delighted to welcome Sue-Ellen Welfonder and Margaret Mallory. I first discovered Sue-Ellen's books through her wonderful blog, Tartan Ink. Anyone who knows me can tell there's no way I could resist a series titled Return of the Highlanders, which has firmly made me a reader of Margaret's books as well. Both have brand new releases in ongoing series: Sue-Ellen's Seduction of a Highland Warrior brings readers back to the Glen of Many Legends, while readers of Margaret's series finally get Connor's story in The Cheiftain. Both books combine history, romance, family ties, and a touch of magic. Give the same ingredients to two talented chefs, and you'll get two different and delicious dishes. It's the same with writers. How does that play out here? Read on.

Sue-Ellen Welfonder

SEW: It’s a pleasure to be here to celebrate Seduction of a Highland Warrior’s recent release. Must say, I adore the title of this blog. It’s clever, smile-inducing, and original.

TWWN: Thanks, Sue-Ellen. We're happy to have you here. What draws you to Scottish historical romance?

SEW: On a personal level, I have a Hebridean/Highland family background and so was raised to appreciate that heritage. I’ve also been traveling to Scotland all my life, so loving Scotland and its past is very much a part of my world and always has been. I’m also keenly interested in medieval history and archaeology. These were my interests before I ever considered writing and will remain so when I no longer write.

In more general terms, I appreciate the possibilities offered by medieval Scotland as a setting and time period for romance. There’s the magnificent landscape, a proud and fearless people, a colorful and turbulent past, many layers of fascinating history and an irresistible blend of cultures (Pictish, Celtic, Pagan, Viking, etc). The clan feuds offer a wealth of plot possibilities. I also love Highland magic, the legend and lore, myth and superstition that abounded in medieval Scotland. And that, to a degree, remains. My grandmother had the sight, for example. My first book, Devil In A Kilt, featured a heroine gifted with the sight and so have some of my other titles. I enjoy writing characters with such extraordinary talents or weaving in other magical threads. As such beliefs were an integral part of Highland Scotland in these centuries, using such elements is natural and fitting. And a pleasure for me as I find every aspect of ‘Highland magic’ fascinating. I also collect medieval weaponry and love studying medieval warfare. I really enjoy writing medieval battle scenes. So my genre reflects by personal background and interests.

TWWN: What are the best and most challenging aspects of writing connected books?

SEW: I love writing connected books. Because I enjoy writing series/connected stories so much, I don’t see any part of the process as challenging. One thing I do watch is to end a series before beloved main characters grow old. It’s fun to write stories for the children of the original hero and heroine. But I do not want to write the first protagonists as grandparents. That’s why I ended my popular MacKenzie series when I did. Devil In A Kilt’s hero, Duncan, is still well-loved by my readers. I don’t want him hobbling about as a bent old man. Not going to happen.

What I love most about connected books is revisiting beloved characters and settings. In the writing of a book, the story comes to life and the characters soon feel like living, breathing people. It’s always a pleasure to work with them again. To see what they’re up to after an earlier book has ended. I know from my readers that most of them also enjoy seeing the characters again. As noted above, you just have to know when to move on. But even then, I like adding ‘magical touch-points’ to new series. Such as Devorgilla, the well-meaning yet meddlesome cailleach in my MacKenzie series. She makes cameo appearances in other series and whenever she does, I always hear from readers who tell me they loved seeing her on the page. Frankly, she is so real, I worry she’d hex me if I didn’t let her dip a toe in the ink now and again.

TWWN: Surprise! You have time traveled to the past -the day before you wrote the first page of your first novel. You may speak only one sentence to your past self. What is it?

SEW: Beware, here be (deadline) dragons.

Thank you so much for inviting me here today. It’s been fun. And I do adore the name of this blog.

Highland Blessings!
Sue-Ellen Welfonder
www.welfonder.com

Thanks much, Sue-Ellen, and for what it's worth, Duncan would be an awesome senior gent.

Margaret Mallory

TWWN: What draws you to Scottish historical romance?

MM: I love history, and I have a serious weakness for stories involving castles and heroes who swing swords. I suspect I’m drawn to the British Isles, in particular, because of my Scottish-Irish-English heritage.

TWWN: What are the best and most challenging aspects of writing connected books?

MM: The most challenging aspect of writing this particular series was having four heroes who were the same age and who were all in each other’s books. Each needed to be heroic, yet distinct. I had to work to make each hero stand out as an individual, particularly when all four were in a scene, without slowing the pace with extra description. And, being heroes in their prime, naturally these guys wanted to take over each other’s books!

I’ve had tremendous positive feedback from readers about the “bro-mance” among my four Highland warriors.
So, despite the challenge, I am really glad I stuck with my original vision of these four heroes who’ve been close friends since they could walk.


TWWN: Surprise! You have time traveled to the past -the day before you wrote the first page of your first novel. You may speak only one sentence to your past self. What is it?

MM: I know you got a lot of satisfaction from working for good causes—improving care for the elderly and services for abused and neglected kids—but I wish you’d quit a couple of years sooner to write romance novels.

Thanks, Margaret. I'm glad you stuck with the original vision, too.

Readers, what's your favorite aspect of a good Scottish romance? Where should a new reader start with either of these writers? Drop a comment and make some noise.

Happy Dance Friday #113: Right Said Fred and some rambling on writing...

We have entered that part of the year known as "butt cold." The kind of weather that is the real reason sweatshirts have hoods and is perfect for staying inside with a good sized supply of reading material...and/or computer games, hence the snowy Sims picture.

I'd first intended to post a traditional (if there is such a thing) Happy Dance Friday post, then decided I'd ramble instead, but the rambling reminded me of a bit of happy-dance-inspiring music, which ties in nicely with said rambling, so you get both. These guys have the right perspective on the creative life in today's tune:



2012 was not my best creative year, and far from the most stress-free. For 2013, I'd like to flip that coin over and have the opposite. Which takes some work, some faith, some trial, some error, and the resiliency of a SuperBall (I once dropped one out of a third story dormitory window to see if it would bounce back up all the way. It did. Many thanks to my friend, Diana R, who waited on the ground to make sure she caught any stray balls before they could meet car windows. Yes, she did, and no, they didn't.)but eventually, one gets there.

Like today. I'm reading straight through the ms formerly titled "Draperwood" which is now "Ravenwood," which makes more sense as a place name, and making revisions. You know it's a good day when you're driving your characters through a plague-decimated England and chair dancing as you do because it's fun to do so. I bought a book of stamps, earmarked for good old fashioned snail mail letters, because one dear friend gave me a fountain pen for Christmas and the lure of sitting at my antique secretary desk and writing letters the old-fashioned way is too much for a writer of historical romance to resist. Besides, who doesn't want something in one's mailbox that is not a bill or junk mail? The letter writer in me announced that she is done being quiet, and I have learned it's useless to oppose her. Hence the stamps.

Yesterday, Housemate Linda and I made purchases at two local small bookstores. Between those, the two libraries within walking distance, and my electronic reading devices, the TBR pile is shaping up quite nicely. Tomorrow's plans involve much reading, the baking of cookies, and messing about with some arty things because A) I have stamps and that means mail art, and B) the art supply store had free samples and the girls in my basement (borrowing term from Barbara Samuels, from her book, The Care and Feeding of the Girls in the Basement - highly recommended reading for writers, IMO)want to play with paint. I think I'm going to let them.

What weekend plans make you want to happy dance?

Here comes that feeling again...

Last night, I stayed up far past my bedtime, reading Lady of the Glen by Jennifer Roberson. This is my first historical my Ms. Roberson, though her romantic fantasy Sword Dancer series has long been a favorite of mine. I blogged about it for Heroes and Heartbreakers here.

Lady of the Glen isn't an easy book, and that's exactly what kept me reading.

Most of my favorite books aren't easy stories, and the same thing applies in writing. Story in, story out. Even if it's late. Especially when it's late. Those times when getting to the end of the story is more important than sleep, that's what I want, both as a reader and a writer.

For me, it's not enough to say "it was night." I want to feel the cool wind on my cheek, breathe the stillness of the night air, inch my way along in the inky blackness using only memory and the shapes that I can pick out in the shadows. Since my genre of choice is romance, it's a given that the two lovers are going to have their happily ever after at the end of the story, but if that HEA comes at great cost, even better.

Setting that book down at last, after closing the cover and my tired eyes, I was satisfied with Cat and Dair's happily ever after, sad at how much it cost them, and angry that my time with them was over. No, I don't want a sequel, spinoff or continuation. The story was complete in itself, and I wouldn't ask it to be anything else. I was satisfied knowing that, although I have to give the library back its copy, mine is still safely snuggled in its cardboard box in the storage unit, along with other books. In time, it will find its way onto my shelves in our new home. Said shelves are still in flux as we continue to settle in, but being able to touch a book that I missed. I'd packed my copy before reading it, and had a strong yearning for it when I saw the library's copy on their shelves.

I have other library books in my TBR stack, and purchased books and ebooks in two different formats, so it's not that I don't have anything to read. It's that I lived in that world for the time it took me to read Cat and Dair's story, and I'm going to need to acclimate some. Then I'll be ready to read something else. By tonight, I'll be engrossed in something from the TBR stack, and I'll let that story flow into me and feed my own story hamster.

I can feel that fire I've missed, the one that got dampened. Reading. Writing. The one feeds the other. Talking, too, about both, because that's how I roll. Feel free to chime in at any time.

Have you ever missed a book when you finished reading it?

emptyfull

Talk about writing exactly as much as you, personally, need to talk about writing.
--Seanan McGuire

When I walked away from the table, there were bruises on the unheard lyrics of my yet-to-be-born songs.
-K'naan

Creative work comes from internal fires.

--Mary Jo Putney

Today's quotes come from a file I started keeping a few months back. The title inserted itself in my head after I got to the laundromat, in a morning that looked pretty much like the picture above, and realized that I had not brought along a notebook. I had pens, but no notebook and nothing that could be pressed into service. How did I feel at the moment? Emptyfull. Technically not a word, but it fit at the moment, and it encapsulated a lot of what I've felt about writing over the past year.

Full of stories to be told. Empty of the right way to tell them. The voices of my untold stories doing their best to make themselves heard over the noise of the hypercritical gremlins who'd got into my head somewhere along the way. Since I had my e-reader with me, I delved into Marsha Canham's The Iron Rose, finished that and got a fair way into The Following Sea before it was time to fold laundry and haul it home. I've long admired Ms. Canham not only for her writing, but for her committment to telling her stories, her way. I find that a great inspiration.

A quick check of email and favorite blogs between laundry hauling and lunch alerted me to a timely post at the Word Wenchesm on writerly anxiety. If you're a writer or know one, I highly recommend this post. This. So exactly this. If the voices are going to talk to us anyway, we may as well let them have their say. Anxiety is going to happen, but we can ride it out and come out the other side, stronger. To add another quote to my list, this one from Joanna Bourne, "The only cure for the pain of writing is writing."

So yeah, I'm going to talk about writing as much as I need to. This is my place to do that. Talking is not a subtitute for doing, don't get me wrong, but I find that one revs me up to do the other.

How do you battle anxiety about your creative work and punch those hypercritical gremlins in the throat?

Inadvertently Awesome

Today's title comes from David-the-barista, the picture from Second Life. My original intent was to use my own photos for the post pictures this week, possibly as prompts, but that would require a camera.

Several years ago, DH surprised me on Christmas morning with a digital camera. This Christmas, our first in our new home, on a gorgeously snowy white Christmas morning, I took same camera out to get some pictures while waiting for everyone to get up (I'm the early riser in our family.) Since I love the cold, love the snow, love exploring our neighborhood, this was like a special present to myself. On with the leopard print rubber boots, on with scarf and gloves and coat and off I go.

I had the route in mind immediately. Leave house, head toward park. Since it's early and a major holiday, I'm reasonably well assured that I can get some shots of the virgin snow, especially in the park, especially park benches (I have a thing for empty park benches.) Since the best way to get to the park is along a gorgeous historic street lined with turn of the century buildings, many of them bedecked with holiday decor, I could not have asked for a better picture taking opportunity. Snow covered wrought iron. Snow covered stone steps. Snow covered bare branches on trees reaching up to the blue-grey sky that implied it wasn't yet done with the white stuff. I happily snapped pictures until the guilt over neglecting family told me it was time to turn back.

Which was exactly when the camera started acting funny. I'd snapped a few different shots of the historic promenade in the park (built in 1803, originally for military drills and parades, later the spot to see and be seen) as well as benches, sky, plaques on and doorways of buildings with historic ties as well, and then...the drag began. Something was...different...about how long it took the camera to tell me it was done doing whatever it is cameras do for that shot. I begged it. One more for mommy, okay? We're going home, really. Then you can take pictures of family members opening presents wrapped in brown paper with colored ribbons, all nice and inside and...nothing.

"Nothing doing," the camera seemed to be saying to me. "No more pictures for the crazy writer person who takes me out in the cold when all the other cameras are inside, watching adorable tots tear into the latest in hand-knitted sweaters and pink plastic minivans outfitted with laser cannons." I took it home, cradled in the warmth of my coat, telling myself it was probably the batteries. I'd try new ones.

I tried new ones. I tried newer ones. I let Housemate Linda have a look at it in case she might see some error I'd made and set things aright. Once more, nothing doing. Camera now sits on a bookshelf in my office, next to yet another set of batteries. I am surprisingly okay with this.

It's not a disaster. Either the camera can be repaired, or it cannot. In either event, the memory card is in there, and I can stick it into my printer (once that's up and running) and all those pictures will still be there. I can still have them, even if not right now. They're safe. They're waiting. They're still mine. Maybe I'll open them on a hot day in July and have myself Christmas morning all over again.

The inadvertantly awesome part? When I sat down to write this entry, I had no idea what I was going to say, and lookee here - I wrote a story. It has a protagonist (moi) and a beginning (plan to take pictures) and a middle (the picture.) and an end (camera on the shelf, dead-at-least-for-now.) It has a black moment (dead camera!) and a resolution (will try memory card in something else.) Some dialogue, and I'd have to call it extremely rough, but gussy it up some and there could be something.

What mundane experience of yours do you think could inadvertantly turn into the seeds of an awesome story?

2012/2013 - and so it begins

1/14/2013

Made three attempts to blog today, and deleted them all. I do want to commit to a solid week of blogging to start the year as I mean to go on. Hence this.

Thanks to Barbara Samuels' blog entries on the fear and joy of writing, I'm getting a much better handle on why 2012 was not my best or favorite writing year, but we have a brand new year started, and that's good for a fresh start. Which makes this the right time do commit myself to another whole week of blogging.

There are a few reasons for doing this. One, it gets me on the right path (as in picture above). At the keyboard every day, getting something that's in my head out for public consumption. Two, I'm a talker. Staying quiet isn't natural for me, and the longer I am, the harder it is to climb out of it. Three, enough days of forcing myself to blabber about nothing, I will bore myself and have to talk about something interesting. Stories are interesting.

Our new home is within walking distance of two libraries. Maybe three if we're feeling adventurous. We've found both a small independent bookstore (with a really really really good romance section even though it's only one shelf - kudos to the buyer for excellent choices) and a splendidly sprawling (David-the-barista from our local coffee shop has me doing his vocabulary thing these days. I'm not complaining) Barnes and Noble.

I will admit to going on what housemate Linda and I long ago named "library orgies." No, not that kind. In family parlance, it means to go to more than one library in one day and take out whatever strikes one's fancy. Which means that I have a nice TBR stack next to my bed. At present, I count three library books -no, four, but one is a nonfiction book on art journaling, not a novel- and four newly purchased paperbacks on the "read me next" shelf. My nightstand also holds an ARC of a novel by two favorite authors. My Kindle app on my laptop has been a busy thing lately, as is the ereader that lives in my purse (and dearly needs a charge tonight.) However many books I have, I need more, because of that story hunger. After a dismal 2012, it has me again. Or I have it. It's hard to tell sometimes.

There's one more reason for this week of blogging. Fear. What if I'm not doing it right? What if I don't have what it takes? What if I've been kidding myself all this time and should shut up and go away because nobody really cares anyway? What if....fill in the blank with anything that seems appropriate. Fear, for me, can be crippling, and from my perspective, the only way out is through. So, how best to conquer fear of writing? By writing. No, a blog entry is not a novel, but it's putting the tush in the chair and the fingers on the keyboard and sending something out into the world.

So. This is a week of blogging. Some entries may ramble. Some entries may stink like that hunk of cheese that got trapped between the sofa cushions the same week the not yet paper trained puppy decided that sofa was his. (Not that this ever happened to me, because it hasn't, but DH once stashed a pastrami sandwich in my purse and didn't tell me, which resulted in me taking it to work that night and not finding it until um, eating it was no longer a good idea.) Some may actually make some sense, and some may surprise even me, but they will be written. So far, so good.

40255

I did not win NaNo this year, and I am okay with that. I didn't think I would be. I like to win. If I keep on at the same pace, I will hit 50k on December 7th. Not too bad in that respect, and since I was a rebel this year and worked on a project that was already in progress, I may be there already but I'm not doing that math at this point.

What I did win was A) the new writing schedule fitting itself into place, B) finding out what pace is good for me right now, C) 40,255 more words written than I had on November 1st. Also D) I write big, and trying to ignore that and go for anything else is not going to work.

I learned that the laundromat is an amazingly good place for writing longhand, and that it is possible to get pounced by heartbroken pirates in such a place. He followed me home and I'm keeping him. Since said pirate is fictional, DH is fine with this. I have even volunteered to babysit Housemate's laundry in order to get more writing time.

Bring on December.

No, I was not playing chess

When I was a teen, and I had an important school paper to write, I had to sit in the antique chair in the front hall and wasn't allowed to move from it until I had the draft done. I'm not sure if that chair made it when we moved things out of my dad's house, but it's not that particular physical chair that's the important part.

Needless to say, I haven't managed to completely distance myself from my own posterior, and the variety of chairs and corners of floor on which it has been parked probably do not bear numbering. Today (well, yesterday, to be honest; I didn't take pictures of where I sat today) I'm parked in the coffee shop again, in what has come to be my regular time for NaNoing. I would say for writing, but that happens in other places as well, as evidenced by the Moleskines that I keep filling, but we're talking NaNo stuff here.

Ask me on any given day how NaNo is going, and you're likely to get a different answer. From yesterday's really good session to today's wanting to curl in a ball and sob for an hour, venting to a nonwriter friend (who is writer-friendly) and then dragging my battered writerly ego back to the keyboard to see what more I can eke out, because if I don't tell this story, nobody else will. This NaNo has, so far, beaten me up more than the others. Today, for example, I had a casualty, ripping a secondary character whom I really like out of the story because everything else having to do with him had been deep-sixed and the things went better if my heroine did what this guy would be doing in this, basically his lone scene left in this version.

Still behind on count, but there's still a lot of November left in which to get things current. It's not always easy, but if the butt is in a chair and the fingers are on the keyboard and my head in the story, then one figurative foot in front of the other. I've done NaNo excited and prepared, trepidatious and only semiprepared, and this year, it's not so much a feeling as a determination. Maybe moving and family colds and all of the rest took up everything else. Whatever the cause, this year's NaNo sessions feel a lot like those papers and the chair in the front hallway.

In both cases, this puppy's got to get done, and nobody is going to do it but me, so onward.

Enthusiastic and Enthralling, said the barista

The barista who served me said his words for the day are "enthusiastic" and "enthralled." He told me he was enthusiastically enthralled to serve me tea, and I replied that I was about to enthusiastically write something enthralling.

This, I should note is not it. Well, probably not. If my ramblings (and random photo from our street) enthrall, then that's serendepity. Which may or may not end up being a word of the day tomorrow.


I'm behind on my NaNo count, the good side of that being that I now know that I did need to reoutline. The bad side is that I am behind on my NaNo count and that makes me crabby. I do not recommend moving to a different state during NaNo or the weeks immediately prior, or during a presidential election. Especially if it's A) the move from two different levels of hell, B) includes more than one anxiety attack, and C) two incidents of Martian Death Cold, one with an upgrade that includes the need to wash down walls and purchase a new bucket.

The new writing schedule hasn't yet solidified, but I am writing daily, making sure that family knows those two hours a day at the coffee shop are *mine* and if the office door is closed, that means I am busy. End of story. Which will go a long way to getting to the ends of stories. I don't expect I'm going to get to the end of an entire novel during NaNo, but fifty thousand words in? Yes, I can do that. Won't be perfect, but it will be written.

I'll be honest, there are, and have been for a while, days when I don't think I can write my own name, when it feels like I'm floundering and it wouldn't matter if I gave up. Thing is, I can't. I've tried to not write. It didn't stick and it made me miserable. Better by far to keep going, even when it's rough. These characters and their lives and worlds and all of that stuff is in my head and it has to get out, even when real life has other ideas. Besides, there is no really good idea section of Barnes and Noble. It's all finished books.

Which is why it's butt in chair and fingers on keyboard and filling notebooks and one foot in front of the other on and on until The End are the last words on the page. That won't happen today, but the pages I write today are that many pages more than if I'd done nothing at all. There will be a schedule in place at some point, but that's not my main concern. So, off to fill some pages. Tomorrow, there will be more.

'Twas the Night Before NaNo

...no rhymes about what's all through this house (the actual apartment or the dollhouse-that-got-moved-instead-of-stored-but-looks-so-good-on-top-of-this-dresser-that-is-in-dining-room-we-don't-mind) but as NaNo does indeed begin tomorrow, I have only in the last 24 hours decided to be a rebel and work on the current WIP, which is to me a new book in many ways, that's what I've got this morning.



The cafe from which I wrote the most recent entry here has been closed for several days, not sure why, so new home away from home is here. No fireplace, but I love the brick walls, the fact that it's in a basement, the comfy chairs gathered around tables, the helpful staff (extra kudos to the nice German gentleman who recommended honey for my lost voice -physical, not authorial) and the fact that they have chai.

New writing routines are still working themselves out. Linda is back in CT for one last haul of her stuff, DH and I are both in the grips of Martian Death Colds, which manifest in different ways for each. I lost my voice completely for a few days but can now croak out a few words. He wouldn't appreciate my sharing his worst symptom, so I'll skip that, but we're both hopefully on the mend. I have found out that when the heat is cranked up the slightest of notches, my office is the snuggest, most comfy place in the whole apartment, and the actual officey stuff is taking shape.

In a way, I like not having things set up yet. My new desk, actually one I coveted as a kid, is about half the size of my old one, which did not make the move with us (by choice.) This means no room for clutter, only what I absolutely love and need. This is also true for books; I brought my absolute classic must haves, and the rest are in storage. This also includes new titles that I have bought but not yet read. Those are all in neatly labeled boxes, and I can pick up one at a time from the unit, read through, trade in/donate those that aren't keepers. (More on that later.)

It's along those same lines with writing. What do I really, really love? Historical romance, heavy on both, thanks. Love that is worthy of record, characters who are people of their time (or times, with time travels, which in my mind count as historicals, at least the way I do them) and taking the hard road to happily ever after. That's enough. NaNo starts tomorrow? Bring it on.

And so it begins...

All the furniture is off the truck and hauled upstairs. Our friends who helped us move have all gone home. Skye kitty is hunkered down under the far corner of Linda's bed. Boxes and suitcases fill the dining room area. I am at the cafe across the street from our new apartment, on a comfy couch, across from a fireplace. It is quiet but for the whirring of oscillating fans. When the sun goes down, DH wants to take a date night and show me some of the sights of our new neighborhood. That will be soon, and at some point, Skye will venture out and investigate her new world, possibly after I've flopped on the bed to play Sims 3 for a while, filling the new space with familiar activity.

The old secretary desk from my childhood home is now in my new office, beneath a mirror I will have DH take down in the next couple of days, as I don't want to look at myself while writing. I have told everyone that tomorrow is for not hauling things up or down stairs, not putting things in boxes (but taking them out will be a neccessity)and not venturing hither and yon in various vehicles. I have told DH that tomorrow, I will not get out of bed unless absolutely neccessary, and the fall I took down the front steps (moving one's belongings from truck to upstairs apartment in the rain is exactly as fun as it sounds) says that may be a good idea.

And yet (because you know there had to be an "and yet") - I. Want. To. Write. In. My. Office. Nothing is set up yet. The desk still has one drawer off, sitting inside the storage area. My chair is in the dining area. The bookcase is empty, and only a milk crate full of art magazines graces the rest of the space. Still, it's mine. This space knows me only as writer. This space has no baggage. This space knows we are all moving in here - me, my characters, their stories. Their worlds fit within these sage green walls, stand upon the boards that still smell of varnish. This, more than any other part of the new apartment feels like home.

Picture above is from our first viewing of the apartment, and is not of the office, but camera is not unpacked yet. Stay tuned.