Jan 24, 2008
Writers are encouraged to give their characters fears, flaws or foibles for several reasons. I know I hate to read about “perfect” people. They remind me of the annoying kids in the “In Crowd” in high school, the kids with the new cars and the cool clothes who got onto the Honor Roll and into the best schools without breaking a sweat or needing a scholarship. They were already living their happy ending, or at least it looked that way when I was a young jealouspuss.
I’m mature enough now to agree with Roseanne Roseannadanna: “It’s always something.” You never know what hidden misery lurks behind that perfectly brace-less smile and cheerleader uniform. Thus has my well-earned wisdom spared me from watching the new crop of teen reality shows. There’s always plenty of angst to go around.
So, I’ve been toying with what makes a good, reasonable quirk for a hero or heroine to have. I’ve read about those afraid of thunderstorms, commitment, going blind/insane, horses, performance failure, dancing, etc.
If I were my own heroine, I’d have major rodent aversion. Lately, we have been overrun with field mice, which’ve abandoned the snowy pastures and are holing up in drawers, basement boxes, and my pantry closet. The other night one ran into the bathroom while I was—uh, using it, and I’m surprised you didn’t hear me scream wherever you live.
We are now hosting a Decon buffet throughout the house, since the little bastards just licked the peanut butter and cheese off the spring-traps. I’m leaving the hall light on so there are no furry surprises as I stumble around in the night. My grandmother was similarly afflicted with mouse mania; I remember her leaping up onto a chair when she was in her seventies, the most exercise she’d gotten in decades.
There is no rational reason to be afraid of tiny, cute creatures, but I hate them with an all-consuming passion. And it’s not because I’m concerned about that virus they can harbor, either. Even if they presented me with a clean bill of health from a vet, I’d want them dead.
Do you have any mouse tales? Any irrational fears? What about characters in books, either your own or someone else’s?
Fear is static that prevents me from hearing myself. ~Samuel Butler
I’m talking about imaginary friends (not mice) on Romantic Inks this Sunday. Please join me! And there are still some great items to bid on at the auction, which ends on Saturday, January 26.
Jan 21, 2008
For every exquisite Candice Hern, Eloisa James or Lauren Willig book cover, there must be at least fifty cheesy clinch ones—a muscle-bound half-dressed guy in the snow with a wild-haired woman climbing him, her bodice falling tantalizingly toward her navel. I wonder where their mothers are to tell them to button up, it’s cold outside. You’ve all read people complain about covers and state their preferences on other boards and blogs, so this post isn’t going to be like that. Nor are we going to whine about the tacky titles, with sin and wicked paired with some peer. Well, maybe we will just a little.
We’re also going to laugh. Click onto this delightful site. Then come back to get serious. When I shop at Wal*Mart, I frequently turn books over in my cart so people can’t see what I’m reading. I am ashamed. In Wal*Mart ! Center of all things cheesy and tacky! I love romance, both reading and writing it. In order to indulge myself, I sometimes feel like I’m walking through fire. Why is my favorite genre marketed the way it is? It must work, because cheese and tack are almost all that’s on offer. So I grit my teeth and spend my $6.99.
Would men buy beer if the cans were covered with little pink elephants? No matter how tasty, I think not. But yet we’re forced the spend money on something we know is good but has “You are an idiot” written all over it. I venture to say there’s not another thing you purchase that assaults your dignity as much as a romance novel. If you can think of something, let me know.
I won’t say one word about e-book covers. At least nobody sees them but you.
Rant over. Here’s the burning cover question—bare chest or neatly tied cravat? Be honest. I’ll tell you I’d rather have the half-naked man if he’s standing alone. That way I know he’s all mine.
The cheese stands alone, the cheese stands alone, hi-ho the derry-o, the cheese stands alone.
No cheese at the Romantic Inks auction, just tasty romantic protein!
Jan 17, 2008
I know I do go on about not watching much TV, but a while ago I broke my rule and caught four back-to-back episodes of
Samantha Who? This show has been getting tons of buzz and recommendations. I’ve liked Christina Applegate ever since
Don’t Tell Mom the Babysitter’s Dead so I gave it a shot. And I enjoyed it. Probably not enough to put down a book or rearrange my life to watch it faithfully, but it has a certain charm. And an interesting premise. Samantha, a b*tch extraordinaire, has had an accident which has wiped out her memory. She finds out a little about her past in each episode and doesn’t much like who she used to be. Her steps to redeem herself are rather endearing. And her parents are a hoot.
In romance novels, the amnesia plot gets a pretty good work-out. There are only so many basic plot devices (marriage of convenience, reforming the rake, woman in danger, etc.). We’ll read a familiar plot if the hero and heroine seem fresh. Like unpeeling an onion, as we read their layers are revealed. Characters must grow and change, turn themselves inside out. Some are more appealing than others, depending on the writer’s skill and the reader’s own history. An author gets the chance to play god/dess and the reader can send the hero and heroine to the devil, or up against the wall, or onto the keeper shelf. The reader’s perception is reality.
If you, like Samantha, had the opportunity to correct a past mistake, what would it be?
Maybe all one can do is hope to end up with the right regrets. ~Arthur Miller
Author Paula Quinn guest blogs on
Romantic Inks this Sunday and Monday, so I’m on a break there until next weekend. A huge, huge, gigantic thank-you to all of you who have trundled over there on Sundays to read or leave a comment. You guys are the bestest. The
auction is about to start, so get ready!
Jan 14, 2008
Those of you who frequent the Eloisa James/Julia Quinn Bulletin Board know all about drabbles. They’re mini-stories of not more than 500 words, with a specific quote inserted spoken by a character. Each week there’s a new quote and a new challenge. I got hooked as a regular visitor on the board once I wrote my first drabble, and lots of good things have come from that first attempt: FanLit, online friendship and writing support, reading tips, prizes, this blog (I hope you think the latter is a good thing!).
I haven’t been drabbling much lately, because I’m trying to write for real, and sometimes the quotes don’t inspire me. But I’ve always tried to use them in a unique way, and I couldn’t resist this one:
Parting is all we know of heaven and all we need of hell. ~Emily Dickinson
What do you think of when you read that? Yeah, me too. The lovers are separating, perhaps never to see each other again. Dickinson is my favorite poet, and in those 13 words she has encapsulated anguish and longing. And knowing Emily, in the context of the poem she’s probably talking about death, anyway, but I haven’t looked it up.
So, did I write a moving, angst-laced drabble this week? Nope. I took that quote and poor Emily is spinning in her grave. The challenge for me is to see exactly how much fun I can have, turning the expected into the unexpected.
Hair Today, Groom Tomorrow
Sandra slipped the plastic apron around her last customer of the day, Rick Somebody. The salon just used people’s first names when they signed in, and she’d never seen him before. She’d remember. Her hands shook a little as she fastened the Velcro around his nape. Man, he was hot. The temperature in the shop must’ve gone up ten degrees when he walked in, not to mention Sandra’s hormone levels. He was tall, dark and handsome. Chiseled cheekbones. Full lips. A killer smile. And his jeans fit him just right.
So, his hair was receding a little. Well, a lot. She could fix that. Put some layers in. Try out the new product the UPS guy brought in this morning. She was very good with her hands. And other parts of her, too, although she hadn’t been around the block in a long while.
“So, what would you like me to do?” she asked, her voice ridiculously breathy. Her eyes met his in the mirror.
“Take it off.”
“E-excuse me?”
Rick grinned at her. “My hair. It’s time. Bruce Willis and me—parting is all we know of heaven and all we need of hell. There’s no point trying. Give me a Britney, Sandy.”
So, he’d read the framed certificate at her station and jumped to conclusions. “It’s Sandra.”
“You look like a Sandy. Cute.”
Sandra blushed. “Thanks, I guess. I’ll tell my mom and dad they made a mistake.”
“No they didn’t. Looks like they got it just right to me.” He leaned back, looking relaxed while she plugged in the clippers.
“Are you absolutely sure?”
“Look, Sandy, I’m a guy who knows his own mind. When I say something, I mean it.”
“O-okay.” She got to work. This wouldn’t take long at all. Which was a shame, because working on Rick’s head was a heady experience. He smelled so good, clean with a little waft of mint.
“Want some?”
“What?” she asked, startled, almost nicking his ear. She sure did, whatever it was he had.
“A Lifesaver, Sandy.” He was holding a roll out to her.
“Uh, sure.” She put the razor down and took one. What do you think?”
“I think I want to take you out to dinner. If you don’t have plans.”
“I’m free.” She saw his bad-boy grin in the mirror and set him straight. “But not cheap.”
“You look worth every penny, Sandy.” Rick rubbed his bare head. “I can get used to this. But I don’t think I’ll ever get used to you. Is it kosher to tip the woman you’re going to marry?”
“You’re crazy!”
“Am I? I mean what I say, Sandy. I knew the minute I sat down in the chair this was it.”
“I think we should have dinner first. Then we’ll see.” Sandra picked up the broom, feeling like Cinderella, before and after. Prince Charming looked good bald, too. She wondered what her last name was going to be happily ever after.
Granted, it’s not perfect. I did it in about 20 minutes. And if I were Sandy, I’d be very afraid. Drabbling has reminded me to take nothing at face value. That sometimes when you are writing in the hero’s POV, it really should be in the heroine’s. Flip stuff around. Take a chance.
I recently got this feedback from a contest I finaled in: The first page presents a well-worn plot device. To hook me into the story, I need to read something different, unexpected. I’m wondering how I finaled now, but no matter. *g* What do you do to set yourself apart from the pack, either in your writing or real life? What’s the hook to your book?
Jan 13, 2008
If you’re randomly passing by, say a quick hi to this handsome guy and pass on over to my Sunday post on Romantic Inks! I’m all high-brow and literary, with information on PBS’ new Jane Austen adaptations and biopic. You might even wind up right back here. *g*
And don’t forget to scope out the fabulous auction items.
Weekends don’t count unless you spend them doing something completely pointless. ~Bill Watterson
Jan 8, 2008
I’ve read tons of talk about “branding.” How it’s important to present a unified face to the publishing world. From the tone of your query letter to the contents of your blog, you’ve got to sell yourself. Have a platform. Find your niche. Make it work.
That’s a problem for one of my heroines, Kelly King (for those of you not familiar with the premise of Third-Rate Romance—although I’ve been hitting you on the head with it, blog after blog— click on the link. Read the first two chapters, maybe laugh, then come back.). Kelly is a writer dabbling with Regency, inspirational western, chick-lit and vampire romances. Schizo, anyone? And probably doomed. Unless you’re Kasey Michaels or writing under a couple of pseudonyms, it’s hard to switch genres with impunity. You’re supposed to stick with one and get it done.
Kelly and I have quite a bit in common. Here’s a quiz for you all. There will be no prize for the correct answer. See if you can determine which of the following novels and novellas are secreted away in my files. Notice they’re all one-sentence distillations of the plot, but absolutely none of them are pitch-worthy.
1. Aspiring author writes trash, hits it big (c’mon, that’s a gimme).
2. T-shirt shop owner finds dead body, love.
3. Baronet must marry before midnight; gets drunk and lucky.
4. Viscount hires disgraced beauty and her niece for instant family to con his old aunt into making him her heir.
5. An uptight baron must heal the effects of BDSM, quasi-incest, and prostitution on the heroine.
6. Undercover spy with peculiar tattoo on his privates woos doctor’s daughter.
7. Scottish museum directress finds hidden treasure on impoverished laird’s property.
8. Tortured artist finds love with chubby teenager.
9. Teacher teaches her pupil’s father how to love.
10. Girl throws over fiancé for his wounded, drug-addicted uncle.
11. Snotty deb gets de-snotted by childhood friend.
12. Amnesiac Scottish bluestocking winds up in brothel and sold to soldier.
13. Shape-shifting hotel owner falls for shape-shifting guest.
14. Eternally young woman seeks love, eventual death.
15. Librarian loosens up with psychic time-traveler.
Laughing now? Yes, I have written them all. And there are even more, God help me. It’s no surprise that my companion blog, Begin As You Mean To Go On, is subtitled “Prologues and First Chapters from a Genre-Confused Writer.” What’s your favorite plot above? I’m thinking #6 is going to be the fave.
Writers are encouraged to give their characters fears, flaws or foibles for several reasons. I know I hate to read about “perfect” people. They remind me of the annoying kids in the “In Crowd” in high school, the kids with the new cars and the cool clothes who got onto the Honor Roll and into the best schools without breaking a sweat or needing a scholarship. They were already living their happy ending, or at least it looked that way when I was a young jealouspuss.
