First Kiss, Continued That summer, my devious dreams were answered. I was sitting out under the stars, watching the night sky with a guy friend from my childhood. A favorite past time. That and reading dirty love scenes out of Harlequins (so really, not so dirty, but dirty to teenagers). Anyway, we started talking about...stuff. Dating. Love. Sex. And then, somehow (why can’t it be this easy now?) be both kind of admitted we liked each other. And had liked each other for a couple of years. After that WTF moment, we started discussing how curious we were about things. Things like *cough* making out. And thus we formed ‘the agreement’. We would experiment and try things with each other we were curious about. YES! I now had my hero. I was going to get ACTION! So he disappeared inside his house to use the bathroom, and I plotted all the things we were going to try. I know he’s going to come back outside, pull me into his arms, and kiss me until my head spins. Not exorcist style, but romance novel style. He comes back outside, looking a little nervous and his hands are shaking. Yes. Here we go. Grab me! Kiss me like you’re Rhett Butler! He steps close, his lips part...and then he says, “So you’re going to have to start. Because I’m too scared.” Huh? My romance-novel kiss dream dies a slow agonizing death. I don’t want to start this. I want him to start this. This is starting to...suck. But I refuse to leave without my first kiss. I counter with a quick, “Okay. How about we count to three and just kiss?” He agrees. So he walks me home, and under the stars, with cool sea air blowing in our hair, we count to three. On three our lips come together. Hmm. They’re kind of soft and mushy? I thought lips were supposed to be hard and demanding. But it doesn’t matter. I’m having it! My first kiss! It’s--over? He pulls away and shoves his hands in his pocket. “Okay. Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.” “Okay.” I watch him run back to his house and then I go inside to my bedroom. I look at my romance novel and have to admit...some of the magic had faded. Mushy lips. After that night, my friend and I kind of drifted apart. We never kissed again, didn’t talk as much, and generally...tried to forget it ever happened. But I think we both got what we wanted. A check mark in that first kiss box on the teenage to-do list.
Shelli Stevens writes various genres of romance for several small publishers. Her Samhain book Dangerous Grounds, the debut book in the Seattle Steam series, spent almost a month on the best seller list and has received great reviews. http://www.shellistevens.com
A Simply Romantic Massage, continued
Get Started First, let’s talk oils. There are an amazing variety of massage oils available on the market. I recommend plant-based oils such as grape seed, apricot kernel, or jojoba. Jojoba is by far the most expensive, but the stuff has a shelf life of a hundred years—nope, I’m not kidding. If you don’t run out, you’ll be set for life. That said, if you are in a pinch or on a very strict budget, you probably have a suitable alternative in your kitchen. Olive oil is very close to the oils produced in the human skin. For massage, the lighter the better, as some of the heavier olive oil has a bit of a cooking smell. Truthfully, any vegetable-based oil will do, although I do not recommend anything with a mineral base such as most baby oils found at the grocery store or low-end department stores. Ok. Ready? Set your mood. Candles, chocolate, champagne, satin sheets, perfumes, bubble-bath. Whatever it takes to get you and your partner feeling the love. Creating an atmosphere is fun, even if you use those white emergency candles stuffed in your junk drawer.
The Back Have your partner lie face down, arms and legs relaxed and away from the body. Begin by gently smoothing the oil over the skin. (Wait to oil each body part until you begin to work on it, just in case there’s a chill in the air.) Take the thick portion of your palms, just above the wrist, and smooth from your partner’s neck, out and across the shoulders, in and down over the shoulder-blades and down each side of the spinal column, avoiding the bone and staying in the muscle mass. Repeat as many times as you like, deepening or lessening the pressure as required. Go slow…enjoy the feel of skin smoothing on skin. When you are finished, move to one side of your partner. Using the arm closest to your partner’s feet, place your forearm on the low back, just where the butt begins. Use this arm as a brace to stretch the back while you smooth your other forearm from the base of the spine to the shoulder, being careful to stay on the outside of the spinal column in the fleshy part of the muscle. Repeat as many times as you wish…move to the other side and start all over.
The Arms Now for the arms. A fun and stimulating arm technique is one my son dubbed the Indian sunburn. We all did that as a kid, right? Of course the goal here is to sooth and calm, not inflict pain—that can come later if you wish. After applying some oil, wrap your hands loosely around the upper arm and twist your way down to the wrist. You can twist back up, or start at the top and twist down again. Do this as often as you want before stretching your partner’s fingers one by one. Move to the other arm and repeat.
The Legs Legs can be done with the same twisting technique after applying oil. Again, you can move up and down or however you choose. For deeper work, use the same forearm technique you used on the back. Grasp your partner’s ankle and turn the heel in, so the thick part of the calf muscle is exposed on the outside as much as possible. Smooth your forearm up the calf. Turn the heel out so the inner portion of the calf is exposed. Repeat the forearm movement. You can then hold your partner’s knee and repeat the process on the thigh, making one pass along the inner thigh, another directly up the middle of the leg, and a third to the thick layer of muscle on the outside of the thigh. Move up across the glutes if you so desire for a lovely hip massage. Repeat as many times as you wish before moving to the other leg. The toes can be stretched just like the fingers. Have your partner return the favor.
Feel the Love! By this point, I doubt you need any more help from me. Smile in bliss, tell your partner you love them, and finish off the night as you choose. I hope you enjoy every sensual minute.
Gia Dawn is a multi-published author with Samhain Publishing who writes fun, fantasy romance with the heat turned up. Her newest release is Princess of Thieves, Book III in her Demons of Dunmore series. www.giadawn.com or www.samhainpublishing.com/authors/gia-dawn
Getting that First Kiss 'High' from Fiction, continued
As both a writer and a reader, I get that thrill from Romance novels. As a reader, I can immerse myself into the feelings and emotions of the characters, live their romance, experience their tension, and yes, thrill at that first kiss. And because there are so many excellent romances out there, I get to experience the first kiss over and over again. Each time is different, each time is exciting, and not a single one of those first kisses is anything like my own. Which is just fine by me. I don’t want fictional experiences to overshadow or usurp mine. But I love getting an inside view into the experiences of other people. I can enjoy their first kisses, then turn to my husband excited about our continued kissing after so many years. As a writer, I try to create characters whose lives and first kisses will bring to readers that rush of first love. I can bring the experience of the characters’ first kisses alive, and if I do my job right, the reader will be able to have that same vicarious thrill when reading my books as I get reading the fiction of others. Writers can also make that first fictional kiss as perfect, as magnificent as possible. Let’s be honest, in real life, first kisses aren’t always that great. They can be clumsy, awkward and tentative. They might be exciting and make your blood rush a little faster, but that doesn’t mean the kiss itself was actually that great. The first kiss really only has to be interesting enough to encourage future kisses, and most of the time, it’s the second, third, or even fourth kiss that really curls your toes and hooks you. But in fiction, writers can forgo that initial awkwardness and give the reader a first kiss that will make their hearts clench and blood sing. Great Romance novels can bring all the emotion of those later kisses, all the passion that builds up before the first kiss, and send them crashing together into an all consuming experience for the reader. The first kiss we always wanted, the first kiss we remember fondly if not accurately, manifests on the page, reminding us how much we want to keep kissing the one we love. So for those of you in a long term relationship, don’t bemoan the loss of the first kiss. Pick up a yummy Romance novel, savor the experience of that heady moment again through the eyes of beloved characters, then turn to your partner and give them a big wet kiss—to remind you both why you intend to keep kissing each other for years to come. That’s what I do.
Isabo Kelly’s fantasy romance, The Heron’s Call, is available in paperback in the In the Gloaming anthology, out now! Also look for her erotic science fiction romance short story, Hali’s Rescue, in Tales from Lachmuirghan. To learn more about Isabo, visit her website www.isabokelly.com
So, dear readers, my question for The Samhellion’s first Valentine issue was this: What is the most unusual or most romantic kiss you ever received?
Standing knee deep in the Atlantic Ocean in Bermuda with a boom box playing music on the sand and champagne cooling in a plastic bucket. ~ Judith Rochelle / Desiree Holt
How about while being attacked by 3D prehistoric fish? Otherwise known as while watching a 3D IMAX presentation of SEA MONSTERS. Hey, fear and sexual arousal are VERY close sensations. ;-) ~ Jennifer Dunne
I asked my husband, knowing what his would be—in the school coat closet in the third grade. Mine would be first grade playground in one of those huge concrete culvert pipes. But I didn’t kiss him back, so does that count? ~ Tamsin Grace
The most unusual place I’ve ever been kissed was at a placed called—I kid you not—The Blue Lagoon, but it wasn’t a tropical paradise. It is actually a huge volcanic hot spring just outside of Keflavik, Iceland. My boyfriend (at the time) and I went there for a swim and got caught in a blizzard. So, sitting on a rock ledge in the steaming water, we made the most of our time. That means made-out, by the way, and not anything more...well, you get the picture. After the snow blew over, there was the most spectacular appearance of the Northern Lights. It was one of those dates you never forget and hold in a special place in your heart. ~ Kaye Chambers
He was a country boy, never moved away from his hometown of 900 people, and well, I’d spent my life in cities like Houston, Seattle—I was five years older, divorced...the list of why it was an unworkable match goes on and on. We were driving his old red truck in the middle of nowhere (near his hometown on some back road in the mountains of Virginia). He pulled the truck over and kissed me. I said, “I am really starting to like the forest.” He said, “Honey, it’s the woods.” That’s when I fell in love with a hick (now my wonderful husband)...and I knew it, like I know how to breathe. Twelve years later, he still thinks I talk funny. ~ Debra Moore
One of the most romantic and comical kisses I’ve ever received came after I’d agreed to let my husband take me skiing. I’d never been skiing before (can’t say I’d go again either) and I had no clue how to do it. He kept reassuring me that I’d do fine. He even spent most of the morning teaching me what to do on the bunny slopes before talking me into skipping the next couple of levels. After getting knocked in the back of the head with my rather ungraceful dismount from a lift, I found myself speeding down a hill, terrified, so much so that I forgot how he’d taught me to slow down. Giving up, I went onto my backside, closed my eyes and found religion instantly. The next thing I knew, I was nearing the bottom and my husband ended up over me, bending, sliding backwards as I continued to go down, keeping pace with me, laughing and saying he was sorry for talking me into it. He then bent and kissed me until we came to a complete stop. He kept on kissing me, ignoring the ski patrol guy (who wanted to inform him it wasn’t safe for me to try that again) and the crowd we were drawing. I especially liked the “aww” we got from the people around us when we were done. ~ Mandy M. Roth
One of the most special places for me is on the shores of Lake Michigan where my husband proposed. ~ Michelle Pillow
In the back of the theater while my daughter and hubby’s niece were up at the very front watching *gags* Spice Girls. You can bet that my (now) husband and I weren’t watching that darned movie. He was so shy and had lured me on this ‘non-date’ by asking if I wanted to take them to see it because they both loved the group. It was romantic, and sweet and fun. And you know, for that reason alone, I kinda sorta maybe like the Spice Girls just a teeny bit. ~ Jenna Leigh
The first time I’d met my DH-to-be face to face (we’d been corresponding via email, letters & phone), he took me hiking up King’s Canyon with his buddy and his buddy’s sister. Looking out over Carson Valley, he kissed me on the side of a mountain. Le sigh.... And it was a good kiss, too. I’d never been kissed “properly” if you know what I mean. And this man was tall, big, intimidating, with beautiful hands/arms, expressive eyes... That’d he’d want to kiss ME, someone boys always looked the other way at, took my breath away. I don’t know how long we made out on the mountain, but unfortunately, on the way down, I fell and broke my ankle. (That part kinda sucked. LOL But the kissing… That was worth it.) ~ Rebecca Goings
Standing on a large pile of garbage in the middle of a garbage dump. Lol. We were volunteering and so in between unloading trucks and putting recyclable stuff that had been tossed out BACK on the trucks, I got a very sizzling kiss :) Granted, this was when I was in college, but I still remember it! ~ Tina Gerow
Carolan Ivey writes paranormal and Celtic-flavored fantasy romance for Samhain Publishing. Check out her latest releases at http://www.carolanivey.com To Organize or Not to Organize, continued
The problem with all of this is that we, as consumers, have bought into it. A certain amount is necessary for daily survival in today’s fast-paced, electronic world. But it does leave us with a headache, a shrinking bank account, and way too much stuff. Now, I was an odd child—that will come as no surprise to some of you—in that my mother never had to tell me to clean my room. I liked to keep things neat. And I didn’t like clutter. As a result, about twice a year, usually on a rainy Saturday afternoon, I’d drag the vacuum cleaner, a dust rag, and a garbage bag into my room and close the door. When I emerged several hours later, the shelves would be a bit barer, the dresser drawers a bit emptier, and the furniture might even be rearranged. Even the closet was clean. What I didn’t realize then was that I was way ahead of my time. Today, getting organized is big business. There are photo boxes, boxes that fit under the bed, plastic wrappers that will shrink-wrap your clothing for storage, boxes for mementoes, boxes for holiday decorations and wrapping paper—the list goes on and on. Not all of this is bad. It’s good to have things you need, or want to keep, organized into one convenient spot. But it doesn’t get to the root of the problem. WE HAVE TOO MUCH STUFF! Before you even begin to organize, you need to go through all your stuff and toss or give away anything you don’t truly need. Don’t be one of those people who hangs on to something for twenty years because you might need it someday. If you are feeling suffocated in your own home, then you have too much stuff. You no longer own your belongings, they own you. Don’t fall into the trap of renting storage space for your stuff. The only time you should ever need to do that is if you’re moving or totally renovating your home. Other than that, your stuff should fit comfortably into your living space. If you look around and feel overwhelmed by the sheer amount of belongings taking over your space, don’t despair. Nobody said you had to do it all in one weekend. Take it one box, one dresser drawer, or one cupboard at a time. The only rule is that you have to be willing to let go. You need to be ruthless. If you need help, there are lots of great books out there that can help you. I recommend a small book by Karen Kingston entitled, Clear Your Clutter with Feng Shui. It’s simple and really takes a look behind the clutter and what it is truly doing to your life. And while you’re sorting through your belongings, sort through the rest of your life as well. Look at all your outside obligations, both work and social. Are you taking on too much? Are there things you can cut out that would free up more time to be with your family or just by yourself? If you can reach deep down inside yourself and find the courage to clean out your space, it will change the rest of your life as well. Whether you believe that or not, it’s true. Your living space is a reflection of the rest of your life, and if it’s jammed full of stuff you no longer need—both physical and emotional junk—you have no room for new things to flow your way. It’s a very liberating and freeing experience. Once it’s done, all you have to do is maintain it. Take a rainy Saturday in the spring and another one in the fall, grab the vacuum and the trash bags and look around. Toss out clothing that’s worn, pack up books, DVDs and CDs you no longer want to give to charity or sell at a yard sale, dive into the cupboards and see what snuck in there in the past six months. It’s therapeutic. It makes you really stop and look at your life. In the meantime, where did I put that garbage bag…
N.J. Walters is an award-winning romance author and you can visit her website at http://www.njwalters.com
The Writer's Moon, continued
The winter moon rose high in the sky, full and bright against an
ebony backdrop. It took determination to attend the night class for
which I was the instructor instead of pulling the car over to the
side of the road to write. I realize many people have recorded the
moon's mysticism long before I picked up a pen, but no matter in
what country my characters reside, no matter in what century they
live, it remains the one constant. That glorious globe of luminous
light follows an eternal path across the starlit sky while it
creates an exotic aura that causes my characters to fall in love,
create songs and poetry, or sit in silent companionship.
----- Barbara Baldwin wrote this essay while on the way to teaching a writing class. Her latest release from Samhain Publishing is Song of My Heart. Trailers, continued
In fact, I’ve made trailers for both my contemporary romance novels Lost in Paradise and One Night in Boston. I’ve also made a few for fellow authors. I’m not a video production expert, but in developing my own abilities, and in viewing other authors’ self-made trailers, I’ve come up with some tips to follow:
Stay under 2 minutes if possible. I know, if you look at the Covey Nominees every month you’ll see trailers there up to 5 minutes long. Brutal truth here: the majority of viewers/readers probably won’t sit through a 5-minute book trailer that features still photos on slides. The motion production industry has a limit of 2.5 minutes for trailers played in major theaters; they know people’s attention spans wander after that. I actually aim for under 1.5 minutes in making mine. That’s just long enough to get people’s attention and lead them to your website, where they can find out more. Recently, a fellow author chose a 45-second music clip for her trailers. I was afraid it wouldn’t be long enough to provide enough information, but you know what? It was!
Stick to one font style and color. First, choose a style that’s easy and big enough to read. I’ve seen a few trailers that use an Old English-style font. It might be fitting with a historical-themed book, but it’s difficult to read. Also, I recommend sticking with one font color throughout the entire trailer (or two, at the most). Take a look at all the pictures you’re using, and then choose a font color that will complement and be easy to see against that background. Selecting a different color font for every slide can become distracting and look less than professional.
Limit the number of words on a slide. This is so important. I’ve seen a lot of trailers that provide almost an entire paragraph of information on a single slide. Even a lengthy sentence is too much. Remember, you want to tease your viewers and leave them wanting more. Don’t give away the entire storyline. Plus, if you have a lot of words on a slide, chances are some viewers won’t be able to read them all before the slide advances.
Use one or two basic types of slide transition. While it can be fun to try and use all the transition options provided in Power Point or Windows Movie Maker, it can be distracting for the viewer. Worse, if every slide is spiraling in, then fading out, then checkerboarding in, then scrolling out…you run the risk of giving your viewer a headache.
Consider using faces on a very limited basis. Okay, this one might be controversial, like the debate between using character faces on a book cover or not. You can always go for the “headless body” effect, or silhouettes or profiles, instead. One word of warning: if you do use people’s faces in your trailer, make sure you’re consistent. I’ve seen trailers where the heroine first has blonde hair, and then later in a slide with the hero, she has brown hair. Viewers will notice this!
Proofread! As with our own writing, it’s imperative that you have NO misspellings or grammatical errors in your trailer. I’ve caught a few, and it definitely takes away from the overall effect.
Finally, send your trailer to some friends for feedback before you put it online for the world to see. Objective opinions will help make it even more professional and appealing. Of course, if you want a trailer for your novel but have no time or energy or inclination to do it yourself, production companies like Circle Of Seven or Subzero will make it for you – at a price. Or you could always seek out a friendly, technologically savvy author like Yours Truly. J Good luck – and have fun!
Allie Boniface has published contemporary romance novels with both Samhain Publishing and The Wild Rose Press. She is happy to make trailers for fellow authors at a fraction of the price that online production companies charge and can be contacted at allieb@allieboniface.com Rejection, continued
Some of the best advice ever given to me was by Dianne Castell who said, “Open a new document and get back to work”. It’s so simple, but it works every time. Refocusing on a new project gets my engines revved. Soon, the sting of the rejection is gone and I’m excited all over again. Besides, I love it when I do sell the next story, because it’s such and in your face moment. Yes, proving them wrong is part of the fun and the best motivator ever. I used the same concept when I had my first child and gained sixty pounds. I overheard someone say, “Oh, she’ll never lose the weight, poor thing”. Well, I’m no one’s poor thing. I cried at first, overhearing the catty remark didn’t exactly make me feel all warm and fuzzy. Then, I got to work. I was determined to prove them wrong. Again, motivation. I’ve taken a page out of Lucy Monroe’s book and started a collection of rejection letters. When I sift through them, I smile. It’s a good feeling to recognize I didn’t give up. I didn’t let them beat me. I kept going, researching my craft, and I can hold my head high because I didn’t surrender my dream. The only real way to lose is to toss your dream away. The bold truth of the matter is that misery loves company. Emily Dickenson, Oscar Wilde, and J. K. Rowling were all rejected. In fact, the first Harry Potter book was sent to twelve publishers before it was contracted. Crazy, huh? See what great company you’re in? Now for the hard reality. When you get a personal letter from a publisher explaining in detail why the story didn’t work, read it carefully, then set it aside. After you’ve given it a few days go back and read it again. Use what the editor is telling you to make your writing better. Don’t just get mad, get busy and fix the mistakes. The over night success story is a myth. No one sends out a manuscript and gets famous overnight. It’s like any other art form. A great guitarist starts with a few notes. It’s not until years later that he can make the guitar purr. If you want it, you’ll work at it. You’ll spend hours scouring the internet for writing tips and advice from the pros. You’ll ask other authors, you’ll sign up to the RWA and go to meetings. You’ll let the laundry go so you can spend an extra hour to tighten your manuscript. My biggest motivator has always been my children. When my youngest first discovered basketball she played it every chance she got. In the rain. In the cold. It didn’t matter, because she had a love for the game. When my oldest went to her first cheer practice and felt like a bumbling idiot because she couldn’t do the moves and had to work harder than anyone else it didn’t matter. She wanted it, so she was willing to sweat and strain and ache for days afterwards. However, when they saw me get rejected, they wanted to hurt someone on my behalf. Sweet, but not necessary. When they saw me get rejected again, I’m sure they wondered why I continued to bother. When they saw me get published for the first time and cry tears of happiness, they were thrilled mom realized her dream. If you keep working, keep trying, you can achieve anything. I firmly believe that and I’m proud to show my kids life is full of let downs, but there’s always the perfect round-off back handspring and there’s always that sweet layup that make it all worthwhile. The moral of the story? Keep tapping those keys and keep learning your craft. Who knows, you could be the next J. K. Rowling.
Anne lives in a small town way out in the middle of no-where-ville. She is a gorgeous blonde with wonderful curves and a money tree in the backyard. She never wants for anything and she always loves everyone. Of course, she wasn’t always this way. It all started on one Rainey day, as she was sitting on her comfy couch, reading a romance novel and sipping a hot chocolate. She realized the book she was reading seemed to lack a certain ‘vavavoom!’. Thus, the talented, beautiful, and rich Anne Rainey was born. Clearly, Anne is a mere figment. A ghostly figure that pops in and out of my head like a drive-by author. Nevertheless, I do so love it when she’s visiting, because her imagination really is wickedly delicious! She’ll bring you fantasies and erotic delights that will have you grabbing the ice water! Letting Go, continued
Writing allows me to be a hundred people at once, to go places I’ll probably never see (Planet Zorba, anyone?), and to try on personas I’d never brave in public. Heck! If I want to, I can be a gorgeous, size-four redhead, or a hunky merman in charge of the ocean floor (both of which are equally removed from my reality). Why then, if I am simply revealing the figments of my imagination, does a release make me feel so exposed? As a writer, I know there is a piece of me in every character I create. It may be an amplification of a character trait I detest, or a reflection of the woman I hope to become. I write about conversations I’ve had in my head during stressful encounters, or give my protagonist the freedom to say the things I don’t have the guts to say. She deals with the aftermath, and I get to decide whether her words were brave or stupid. I choose her friends and create her enemies. I kill off people I don’t like, and let my favorites fall in love. And then the world gets to examine my choices. Perhaps because I am a psychologist by training, I’m somewhat threatened by the prospect of this critical examination. Surprisingly, I don’t worry that people won’t like my writing. Some will, some won’t. My editor liked it, and I trust her. What I do worry about is what my words tell the world about me, Kerri, the author – a fairly private person. As a reader, I often wonder about the person behind the words. Even if the world she writes about is entirely fictional, the characters fantastic, and the plot full of magic and imagination, I still search for a piece of the author in every story. I have to believe that I’m not the only reader who wonders about this fine line between truth and fiction. But now I’m the one being examined. Thoughts that were once trapped in my head are now on paper, open to public criticism and evaluation. The world sees a piece of me, however masked and distorted, and they will draw conclusions. I wonder if they will love the characters I love, if they will approve of my killing off the ones who annoy me. I wonder what they’ll think of my protagonist’s sharp tongue: Is she a strong woman who speaks her mind, or just a bitch? And will they think she’s me? When I sent my son off to school that first day, I felt like a tigress releasing her cub into an open field. I knew he was his own person, but I also felt he was a reflection of me as a parent. I wanted strangers to love him as I did, and I wanted others to approve of the person I was shaping him to be. This week, as my debut release flew off into cyberspace, I revisited those early feelings of concern and fierce protectiveness. But as much as my son had to carve his own path in the world, my book will speak for itself, for better or for worse. Grow wings, little novel. Grow wings and fly…
Kerri Augusto is a clinical psychologist and regular monthly columnist for Baystate Parent Magazine. She is the author of Strawberries in Winter (Samhain LLC, 2008). Visit her website at www.kerriaugusto.com. No To Passive Tense, continued
So to share some of the more common mistakes writers normally make and to prevent others (myself included) from doing the same, I thought I’d list a few no-no’s that immediately grab my attention. 1. Filling the beginning with back story. A first sentence or paragraph should hook the reader. We’ve all heard about grabbing the reader from the get-go. Now I’m not saying you have to have a man hanging off a ledge in paragraph one, but I don’t need to know about his sister’s brother-in-law’s kids before I even meet the heroine. And if his sister’s brother-in-law’s kids don’t pertain to the story, I shouldn’t be hearing about them at all. 2. Passive tense. It’s a killer. And by passive tense, I mean the verbs is, am, was and were and past perfect tenses (i.e. “had written”). Now some editors go nuts and cross out every “was” they see, which makes it difficult to string sentences together. I mean, at some point, someone “was tired, happy or annoyed.” But using “was” instead of finding more active, creative verbs shows lazy writing. I cringe saying this, reading some of my own work, but really, I can’t fault the truth of this statement. Read the following paragraph:
· Shelly was unhappy. Once again, she stared at the note Derrick had written. He was leaving her, and there was nothing she could do about it. He was in love with Rachel, that witch. Rachel, who used to be her best friend. While Shelly was working her tail off to pay hers and Derrick’s rent, he was busy sleeping with Rachel… in the bed they used to share.
A very passive paragraph, and aside from Shelley’s issues, you just feel blah after reading it. Now to tighten it up without the dreaded passive voice.
· Miserable, Shelly stared at Derrick’s note. The jerk planned on leaving her. Apparently, his affair with Rachel, Shelley’s now ex-best friend, had progressed to the next level. I love Rachel. She’s the love of my life, what can more can I say? he wrote. Well, Rachel could have him. Shelley fumed. While she busted her tail to pay off hers and Derrick’s rent, he spent his precious time, not finding another job, but finding time with Rachel—in Shelly’s bed, no less. Shelly glared down at the note, not seeing the large male barreling down the sidewalk in her anguish. As they crashed, she looked up, startled, to see her old flame from high school back in Taneytown, of all places. And Brad looked better than ever. “Shelly,” he exclaimed before enveloping her in a hug so perfect she wanted him to never let go. “I’ve missed you, I love you, and I want you to be mine forever. Oh, and here’s a check for twenty million dollars for all the pain and suffering I’ve caused. And have I mentioned I own my own jewelry store and chocolate shop, and that I love cooking and cleaning house, almost as much as I love you?”
(Okay, I let the last paragraph run away with me. But Shelley deserves a break.) In the first example paragraph, note all the passive verbs. Not look at the next sample paragraph. I used very few cases of “was,” and changing up the sentences makes it flow much better. 3. The over and under use of commas. Basically, if you’re going to write, know how to write correctly. Get a book to help you with grammar, because as good as your story may be, if an editor has to pause unnecessarily every five words, or read five pages of run-on sentences, your story probably won’t make it to publication. Two good sources I like to use are Painless Grammar by Rebecca Elliott, Ph.D. (It’s for sixth to eight graders, and doesn’t get much simpler than this!) Another good reference is The Little, Brown Handbook (current edition.) Many authors also like to use the Modern Language Association (MLA) Guidelines or the Chicago Manual of Style. To each her/his own, I suppose, as long as it’s grammatically correct. J And to add to this, check out the following frequently misused words/punctuation. · It’s= it is. Its=possessive for it · You’re=you are Your=possessive of you · Complimentary=something nice said about something Complementary=things that go together well stylistically · Blond and blonde depend on the editing house. Some of my editors prefer “blond” as a noun and some use it as an adjective. Personally, I always thought “blond” was an adjective and “blonde” a person, but usage seems to be subjective. · Single quotes, like these ‘’ are used within quotes, like these “”. Example: “Then James said I was ‘hot’ so I blushed.” When using quotes for emphasis in a normal paragraph or for dialogue, use these “” to highlight a word or phrase. Example: We planned on making it a family night, because our eighteen-year-old, “The Man” Nicholas J., would soon leave for college. (The double quotes are for American editing, I might add. I believe UK publications have different rules for quote usage.)
4. Repetition. I’m not saying that I don’t make mistakes when writing. Most authors do on their first draft. I tend to repeat words. I’ll mention a fabulous review, then two sentences down someone in my story will describe a fabulous restaurant. That, of course, is on thing editing is for, to catch those repeats. And a critique partner is a wonderful tool to help you correct mistakes. But if you don’t have a critique partner, let time be your friend. Put the manuscript away for a while, move on to other things, then return a week later for a read-through. It’s amazing how many mistakes you catch when you give yourself some distance from your manuscript. 5. Telling and not showing. Show and tell is great when you’re younger. But when you attempt to tell the reader what is happening vice showing her/him, you’re shooting yourself in the foot. Long narrative tends to lose readers. Dialogue is a great device to explain background about story and character. For example, your hero may be a policeman. Instead of telling in narrative that Mike works the nightshift downtown at the precinct, show him in conversation with his partner, neighbor, someone. And let him talk about work. Example: “Last night we caught the perp red-handed, Mrs. Smith. So don’t worry that he’ll be back anytime soon.” And in a situation where Mrs. Smith is asking about details of her robbery, you don’t necessarily have to spell it out for the reader that Mike is a policeman working nights. Nothing turns me off more than a writer telling me the story. If I can’t envision the action through the writer’s voice without her/him telling me point blank, I close the book. I’m done. 6. The Sermon. One last mistake I’ve been reading lately has to do with authorly (my word, hey, it’s my article) advice. Keep the preachiness to a minimum. I just finished judging a story about a woman falling in love with a man. In the story, the woman and the man are talking about environmental issues because she’s an environmentalist. Hey, I like this. I recycle, love trees, and want to save the planet, too. But when the heroine starts ranting about how much paper we use, how many trees die each day, how fur is bad, how we’re depleting the ozone… She lost me, completely. I felt like I was reading a public service announcement from an Earth-friendly organization instead of a hot romance. There’s nothing wrong with having a protagonist who cares about issues, or even with inserting your own viewpoints into a story, as long as those concerns don’t overshadow the story. In this case, I was so annoyed with the author telling me how to think and feel about printing a darned page that the book turned me off. I had to force myself to finish the story, which, unfortunately, didn’t get much better. And that’s that. Just my two cents, well, maybe more than that, but my take on common mistakes we all make. So enjoy writing, and try not to confuse “it’s” with “its.”
Marie is the multi-published author of the bestselling Enjoying the Show, The Dragons’ Demon and A Scorching Seduction. Feel free to stop by her website or blog. And don’t miss Rachel’s Totem, coming to Samhain in April.
Sizzle, continued
Before you can get to burning, you have to build the fire. You have to have kindling, paper, dry wood, matches, and the flue open. Burning scenes begin with the buildup. When your characters first meet, is there sizzle in the air? Do their eyes linger, or is an overlong gaze hastily averted? Is there a touch that lasts a beat too long? Do they stand or lean a little too close? These are all physical cues of attraction. Now, what about your plot? Are your characters in a situation that allows for things to progress on a physical level? Maybe you’re making it too easy on them. Anticipation is delicious and a great way to build sexual tension. Put an obstacle in their path. Force them – and the readers – to wait. They’ll want it even more. (But don’t keep delaying endlessly. That sort of thing becomes ridiculous, and any heat that was building up will dissipate in the fire of ire.) Now we have the longing looks, the build-up of delay while the characters confirm their decision to Do The Deed. Next, consider what the deed will be. Is it reasonable and believable your characters would swing from the chandeliers the first time? This is their story, and their chance to express and reveal themselves to each other. Maybe the heroine just lost her chance at a big promotion because she wasn’t enough of a risk-taker and she’s determined to do something risky. That’s motivation that can explain a previously buttoned down woman letting loose with a hot guy and doing something she wouldn’t ordinarily do. But if she’s terminally shy, she’s not going to do it just out of sight at a party. If he’s got a high profile job he could lose if caught, the same goes for him. They’re crazy for each other, but they’re not certifiable. Readers want to root for the hero and heroine, they want your characters to be smart and consistent. So remember that the sex scene should be where they are most authentically their true selves and not acting completely out of character. This is not the place for the wet blanket TSTL moment. Now you’ve reached the point where the first sex scene can unfold, you’ve got a believable setup and action that makes sense given who the people are, their motivations and circumstances and also their feelings for each other. Oh, yes, what about those feelings? This isn’t just physical action. It’s emotion. Does she tremble? Are his fingers awkward when he tries to undress her? Whatever emotion is driving them will drive the scene. And those emotions can be complex. Revenge, anger, pain, whatever primary emotion is motivating them, tap into it and use it as fuel for the flames. Now a word about mechanics. Really think through the steps in the action. If they change position, describe it. Orient the reader. Don’t make them try to guess if the characters are facing each other or not, or if they’re sitting, standing, laying down. Details bring the scene to life and allow the reader to envision it. Do you have to dwell on every excruciating detail? No, the action can get lost that way. Too much detail can obscure the picture. But the important details, dwell on those. What’s important? The ones that set the stage, anchor the scene, breathe life into it, amplify and exemplify the emotion of the scene. The reader needs to know that the angry hero is using a male dominant position, and exactly how he touches his partner. She (or he) doesn’t need to know about the water glass on the bedside table, unless it’s going to play a part in the scene. Elizabeth Bear summarized the purpose of sex scenes this way: “What do you suppose the purpose of a sex scene is, in literature? Well, unless you are writing erotica, it’s there to… develop plot, reveal character, create tension, worldbuild, and entertain. If you are writing erotica, it should do all those things, and be hot, also.” In erotic romance, I’d add that it should do all those things, be hot, and advance the romance, too. Now, go ahead. Light my fire!
Charlene Teglia writes erotic romance for St. Martin’s Press, Pocket, Ellora’s Cave and Samhain. Her books have garnered several honors including the 2005 Romantic Times Reviewer’s Choice Award for Best Erotic Novel and 2006 Nominee for Best Erotic Romance. Fiction, Continued Captain McCluer and his dear wife, Victoria, after whom Laurie was partially named, enjoyed entertaining, and visiting dignitaries could often be found gracing the flower gardens on the estate, or waltzing in the ballroom which covered the entire north wing of the house. Even when tensions arose and tempers grew short between residents of the colony of Boston and the soldiers sent from England to keep the peace, the McCluer family paid no heed. Mrs. McCluer continued to entertain the wives of local merchants, as well as the few wives of British soldiers who had traveled with their husbands. Together, they would have tea among her roses, or settle into spacious chairs in the front parlor for an afternoon soiree. Oftentimes, Mrs. McCluer would request Laurie Elizabeth's presence, for she had a pure voice when raised in song, and of course, was Mrs. McCluer's pride and joy. Laurie did not mind entertaining her mother's friends, but she sincerely wished the British soldiers' wives were not in attendance. They tended to look down their noses, as though better than the McCluers, and Laurie had heard them whisper about the "ignorant colonials". Yet they were willing to accept the hospitality of her mother and father's home. Laurie was all of eighteen years old, and considered herself a woman, even if her parents did not. She also had very definite ideas of what should be happening in Boston and the other colonies, and wasn't afraid to express herself. Of course, because of her gender, she had no voice in the politics of the day, so her opinions could only be spoken quietly in her father's study when they discussed the dissension. Even more secretly, her friends would gather down on the embankment where only the river overheard their feverishly whispered arguments for independence and their impassioned speeches of what they would do if they were in charge of the Commonwealth! More and more Bostonians began to resent the presence of the British. Secrecy abounded, and oftentimes Laurie suspected that even the servants were divided between their loyalties, although her father paid them well enough to keep their silence. Her father made a very good living importing tea, along with other English items to the colonies, but he was in reality a colonist first, and his heart belonged to the Americas. In order to keep informed about the British troop movements and to provide protection for the activities of the Sons of Liberty, he kept up the pretense of being a Tory and stayed on good terms with Governor Hutchinson. Laurie sincerely believed that her mother was the only member of the McCluer household who did not know where her husband's loyalties lie. This was no fault of her mother's, for she loved her husband fiercely. She just did not have a head for politics, and simply enjoyed people, regardless of nationality, religion, or family origins. Now, you have the background, except for one missing character in the person of Laurie Elizabeth's betrothed. Mr. Logan Mallory, a most handsome young man who attended Harvard University, came from a very well known and respected family in Charleston, South Carolina. Laurie had first met Logan when he began assisting her father at the docks and in the investment house where he conducted his business. She fell quickly in love, as he did with her, and they were promised to be married in the spring. Much has been written about this time period of our nation, and Boston was right in the thick of the conflict. While the general history is well known, rumors still fly and housemaids whisper behind their hands if you dare to mention Laurie Elizabeth and her betrothed -- handsome, Mr. Mallory. Their story is one of unrequited love, mystery and intrigue, where only the River really knows what became of them, and it silently glides past their point of parting without disclosing its secrets. It was not a night like any other, for the summer rains had caused the river to swell against its banks and course wildly towards the Bay. Sailors were cautioned not to try to traverse her currents by small skiff, and any man foolhardy enough to think he could swim her width on a night such as this would only be asking to meet his Maker. Or the devil, as the case may be. The small group who sat quietly beneath the huge Oak by the bank felt relatively safe. Thinking no British ship or soldiers would venture this far, they could contemplate their next escapade. They were not the Sons of Liberty. Being of younger years, and some of them female, they did not quite understand their place as the hands of destiny tugged their hearts and minds in different directions. It is said of this night, though, that their arguments for forcing the British soldiers to leave their beloved Boston were quite adamant, and that Logan Mallory's voice rose loud and clear above the rest. "We must not allow them to tell us how to live our lives!" It is reported he proclaimed, a clenched fist against his heart. "I, for one, am most willing to give my life for the freedoms we have." And all among him cheered his courage and admired his spirit, raising their hands to his in a show of unity. Laurie's eyes must have also glowed with a rebellious spirit as she gazed adoringly at her betrothed. She not only loved him for his bearing and his family name -- and because he was the most handsome young man in the colony -- but she admired him greatly for his nobility in the face of such grave danger. But, perhaps because of her gender, and her loving but protective father, she naively thought she would love Logan forever and that they would live happily ever after. Surely no harm would come to them, and most certainly the British would leave soon enough, allowing the people of Boston to resume their quiet lives. As their friends departed, leaving the young couple alone in the night by the wide, churning waters, Laurie could not have known the danger that lurked just around the bend in the river. For as secretive as they thought their meetings were, someone had betrayed them. Her friends later spoke sorrowfully of hearing Laurie scream, her frightened voice echoing eerily against the fog floating on the water. Several of them raced back to the oak tree only to find young Logan knocked unconscious to the ground and Laurie nowhere in sight. As silently as it had come, the fog disappeared and the moon shone across the water. Yet nowhere in the moonlight could they see a body or a boat, or any semblance of conveyance which could have come and robbed them of one of their own. When Logan came to, he was beside himself, racing along the bank yelling for his beloved Laurie. If not for friends restraining him, he might very well have flung himself into the raging waters in search of her. Surely his heart sank to the bottom of that muddy current, and his tears mixed with the misty spray. Inconsolable, he refused to come away from the slippery banks, and his friends stood vigil through the long, dark night as he continued to curse the river for taking her, yelling and sobbing her name in supplication. Finally, he drew into himself for failing to protect her from harm. The cold, gray dawn crept up the river -- no sun shone this day; no white clouds reflected against the usual blue of the water. A silent rain, seeping its cold, wet fingers through their clothes, wrapped their hearts in sorrow. His friends could do no more, and one by one said their farewells to Logan who stood still as death by the spot where his Laurie had been taken. He could not acknowledge their solace, nor could he overcome the anger that had steadily overtaken his heart and mind. It soaked into his body as the rain had, shutting down his senses until that was all there was. There was much speculation as to why Laurie was taken, and by whom, and it is unfortunate that no one had the courage to investigate until the mystery was solved. Both the Bostonians and the British blamed the other, for the colonists would never admit that they had not been able to protect the river and one of their own. The British, still being outnumbered at this time, did not want to start a conflict they had no hope of winning. Whispered accounts, however accurate, blamed the British, stating kidnapping as a ploy to make Mr. McCluer comply with the specifications of the British government on his tea business. Others -- Tories, it is said -- say Laurie was taken by colonists who were angered because McCluer did business with the British, but those closest to the family knew this to be the most vile of rumors. Of poor Logan Mallory, even less is known. He disappeared that morning, never to be heard of by the people of Boston again. But very strangely, mishaps occurred to any British officer, ship, dingy, or sailor who dared to pass near the bend in the River where his beloved Laurie had disappeared. Drownings happened with frightening regularity, and many a body washed ashore with a bullet hole in the chest. Romantic young girls nearly swooned thinking that perhaps handsome Logan Mallory was avenging his lover's death. Idealistic young rebels toasted his daring in the taverns, and bravely boasted their courage as being as great as his. Of course, you must realize that this is all hearsay, for none now were alive on that fateful day, and the story has been handed down by trusted household servant, parlor maid, or stable boy. But all agree Laurie Elizabeth Victoria McCluer's death, and Mr. Logan Mallory's disappearance are tragedies of the highest degree, and hearts weep for a love that could never be. For those who believe, however, it is said that on some nights, when the moon is full and a low mist rolls in from the Bay, you can hear their voices down by the river; their laughter rising above the gentle flow of the current and the soft lapping of waves against the shore. And if you know where to find the old oak tree, you may even catch a glimpse of the two of them, hands raised in unison; voices echoing the cry for liberty.
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