Sunday, January 27, 2013

Special Guest Sunday - Eva Scott



Hello everyone! Please help me welcome Eva Scott, as she talks about the inspiration for her book The Reluctant Wedding Planner

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THE RELUCTANT WEDDING PLANNER BY EVA SCOTT




People often ask me what my inspiration was for writing The Reluctant Wedding Planner and I fumble about for a bit before mumbling something unsatisfactory. I’ve been giving it some proper thought lately and I wonder if I secretly yearn to be a wedding planner or a wedding florist? Imagine organising amazing events for people, events that mark such important transitions in their lives – and you helped made their wedding dreams come true! Between you and me, I don’t think I would have been any good at it. One grouchy bride and I’d be off. Better I stick to writing where I can organise as many weddings as I like and the bride is always happy.

In The Reluctant Wedding Planner Georgi is shanghaied into helping dashing rural vet, Dr Camden James, upgrade his sister’s wedding as a surprise for the happy couple. I think my favourite scene is where Cam persuades Georgi to try on wedding dresses. Loads of fun.

See what you think.

Category – Sweet Romance (Calliope, Musa Publishing)

Tagline - Not only flowers bloom...

Blurb -

Dr Camden James is a rural vet, not a wedding planner, so he quickly feels out of his depth when, in a fit of generosity, he offers to glam up his sister's budget wedding in a secret move designed to surprise her. With only six weeks to make this the wedding of his sister's dreams he needs to move fast.
Stumbling around in the largely female world of weddings he gets a lead on the go-to girl for wedding flowers - Georgiana Mac Intyre. Georgi, reeling from a very public breakup, is not interested in men in anyway shape or form. Not even super-cute vets - even when they are clearly interested in her.
Cam shamelessly uses his story to get her to help. It has all the elements; romance against the odds, true love, orphans (you can't have good story without an orphan or two), and a bride.

Excerpt -

“Who the hell are you?” Georgi demanded. “And what are you doing back here?”
Camden James held both palms up in a gesture of surrender. When the lady at the shop counter sent him to the workroom he had hoped for a more welcoming response.
“I come in peace.”
“What?” Georgi couldn’t hear a word over the music. She moved to turn down the volume as the man shouted:
“Me friend.”
She cocked one eyebrow at him, watching as a red flush colored his face.
“Little early to tell, isn’t it? We haven’t been formally introduced yet.” Her heartbeat had returned to normal and she was over her initial fright. Commonsense told her whoever this man was; he wouldn’t get past Irene and the Happy Gardeners if he didn’t have a bonafide reason to do so. Georgi placed the scissors back on the work bench.
“Me florist” she said.
A slow, warm smile spread across Cam's face. He liked a gal with a sense of humor.
“Now that fact we are sure of” he said.
“What can I do for you?” she appraised the man before her, recognition dawning. Mr. Gorgeous, it was hard to forget those blue eyes—or his great butt. He filled her work room with his presence, taking up all the space and the air or so it seemed. This made her feel small and feminine at the same time. Not to mention just a little off kilter.
“I need some help and the kind lady out front felt sure you would be most accommodating.”
“Irene did, did she?” Georgi made a mental note to have a word with dear, kind Irene about meddling in her private life. I can find my own dates, thank you very much. Providing she felt like dating of course, which she didn’t. But for Irene to infer she would be 'accommodating' was a bit much. It was no use rustling up Tall-Dark-and-Handsome as temptation. This was the third time this month Irene had thrown a man in her path.
“Well, I don’t know what Irene told you but I'm not interested in being accommodating.” She crossed her arms to emphasize her point.
“Oh,” said Cam. “That's disappointing. I had my hopes up.”
“Sorry to dash them so quickly but I'm super busy and just do not have time for dating anyone - no matter how handsome they are.”
“I'm sorry” Cam blinked in confusion. “I was only looking for advice on flowers for a wedding. You've been recommended to me by Wendy Richardson. “
Wendy Richardson was one of the biggest wedding planners in Brisbane. Georgi blushed at her mistake. God, she'd even said she thought he was handsome! Hoping he hadn't noticed that bit of her tirade, she wiped her hands on her apron and stepped out from behind the work bench, hand outstretched.
“When you said Irene sent you through, I assumed…I mean, I thought…never mind. I'm Georgiana MacIntyre.”
“Georgiana of Georgi's Garden.” He smiled a slow, warm smile.

Short bio –

I live on the Sunshine Coast, in Queensland Australia with my fabulous husband and gorgeous little boy. When I'm not writing romance you can find me out on the water kayaking, fishing or swimming. When on dry land its all about the shoes and the coffee.

Buy Link –

http://musapublishing.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=35_29&products_id=513

Personal links -

http://www.evascottromance.com/

http://www.facebook.com/eva.scottromancewriter

http://www.twitter.com/EvaScottWriter

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Thanks so much, Eva, for stopping by. Makes me think that I might want to be a wedding planner too! Sounds like a lot of fun! Then again, that's the great thing about reading and writing, trying on all these different occupations, lifestyles, choices, and living vicariously through it all.

Sunday, January 20, 2013

Special Guest Sunday- Téa Cooper



 Hi, everyone!  I would like to introduce my special guest for this Sunday-- Téa Cooper!  Welcome Téa! 

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Whether you are a plotter or a panster you have a picture in your minds eye of your characters. I know I’m stating the obvious! It makes a lot of sense particularly if you are writing a romance. A hero or heroine can make or break a story but perhaps my favourite “character” is their silent partner. The setting. It doesn’t take the limelight but it is an often forgotten and very powerful tool.

I read a review recently of a romance book and the reviewer’s only complaint was that they didn’t realize until half way through the book where the story was taking place. Does it matter in a romance? Possibly not but setting can be a very powerful metaphor and without it the characters are simply performing in front of a blank canvas.

The setting can reflect the mood of the story, change the temperature and give colour and texture to your characters emotions. It is the perfect way to carry the reader deeper into the story and allow them to feel your characters’ mood.

Like the back story it is not something that can be dumped in several consecutive paragraphs and then ticked off a list of plot points it needs to be ever changing and woven through the story like the threads of gold in an Indian sari.

I was thrilled when many of the reviews for Tree Change made comments about the setting. “I could taste the salt on the sea breeze…” and “The description…makes me want to pack up my bags and head for the coast…” and “The settings are depicted with vibrancy and colour...”

Truthfully the descriptions in Tree Change were more by accident than design but it has become something I pay more attention to now, a tool I don’t intend to waste.

What about you?

Tree Change Blurb:

Despite her success in the Sydney art world Cassia yearns for the idyllic life she once lead with Jake in their shack over looking the Pacific Ocean. Seeking closure she falls, like a recovering addict, straight back into his arms, and out again equally quickly.  Not only has he taken up with his brother's wife but it seems they have a child. 

Truth is Jake is living a lie, sworn to secrecy and hamstrung by a promise. Cassia’s fey, artistic character and magical body possess his imagination and his heart. Can he convince her to trust him long enough to save the crumbling remains of their relationship?



Here’s an excerpt from Tree Change. I like to think the setting adds to Jake and Cassia’s angst.

A blanket of silence filled the car. It was palpable. Jake could touch it, feel it suffocating him. His breathing slowed, and time stood still. The red traffic light registered through his subconscious, and he slowed the car to a halt. It had started to rain, and the road surface was slick and black, the streetlights reflecting shattered pinpoints of light. Large raindrops bounced on the hood of the car. He glanced across at Cassia. Her eyes looked big and bruised in her pale face as she stared through the windshield, focused on some space beyond.
Making a left-hand turn, he slowed the car, the tires bouncing on the old cobblestones of the access way. The Harbour Bridge hung, cold and dark, across the black night sky of the bay. The red and green navigation lights flickered their warning to the ships passing underneath. As Jake stopped outside the last apartment at the end of the wharf, Cassia opened the car door and stepped out into the rain.

Buy Links:
Tree Change is available from:

Téa’s Bio:
Lurking in the back of Téa’s brain somewhere was the knowledge that one day she would write a novel. It probably started with a rather risqué story in the back of an exercise book at boarding school featuring the long suffering school gardener - not really the stuff romantic heroes were made of but it was before she knew any better.
Life and few heroes of her own showed her the error of her ways and with a baby under one arm, a husband and a half built house she entered a Mills and Boon competition. To her absolute earth shattering amazement she won second place – the prize was a bottle of perfume! Next time she determined she would do better.
But it was still the stuff of fantasy and her family, a herd of alpacas, a protea farm and teaching intervened until one day she decided it was time to do or die. No more procrastination. The characters and plots that had lived in her head for so long were clamoring to escape.
In August 2011 she got serious and joined Romance Writers Australia, entered the Harlequin Mills & Boon New Voices competition and to her horror discovered she hadn’t been – discovered that is. Not even a bottle of perfume this time. But in reality she had won. Procrastination was conquered and determination set in. It was time to get serious.
Tree Change is her first contemporary romance novel and is available now. Her second, a historical novel Lily’s Leap - set in Wollombi, the time-warp village she now calls home – was accepted by Lyrical Press and will be published in May 2013. The Protea Boys an Australian rural romance has just been accepted for publication and she has recently completed her second Australian historical novel Matilda’s Madness - inspired by some of the fascinating characters haunting the local museum.
When Téa is not haunting the Wollombi museum she can be found on Facebook, Twitter and Goodreads or you can email her at teacooperauthor@gmail.com. 



ABOUT TÉA COOPER…



Téa Cooper is an Australian contemporary and historical romance author.
Originally from England Téa came to Australia via India and a few other places in between. She has lived in Sydney, on the NSW Central Coast and now lives in the time-warp village of Wollombi near Cessnock.
To find out more about Téa, or to check out what projects she's working on right now, you can visit her website http://www.teacooperauthor.com

BIOGRAPHY:
Lurking in the back of Téa’s brain somewhere was the knowledge that one day she would write a novel. It probably started with a rather risqué story in the back of an exercise book at boarding school featuring the long suffering school gardener - not really the stuff romantic heroes were made of but it was before she knew any better.
Life and few heroes of her own showed her the error of her ways and with a baby under one arm, a husband and a half built house she entered a Mills and Boon competition. To her absolute earth shattering amazement she won second place – the prize was a bottle of perfume! Next time she determined she would do better.
But it was still the stuff of fantasy and her family, a herd of alpacas, a protea farm and teaching intervened until one day she decided it was time to do or die. No more procrastination. The characters and plots that had lived in her head for so long were clamoring to escape.
In August 2011 she got serious and joined Romance Writers Australia, entered the Harlequin Mills & Boon New Voices competition and to her horror discovered she hadn’t been – discovered that is. Not even a bottle of perfume this time. But in reality she had won. Procrastination was conquered and determination set in. It was time to get serious.
Tree Change, her first contemporary romance novel was published on 30th November 2012 and her second, a historical novel Lily’s Leap - set in Wollombi, the time-warp village she now calls home – will be published in May 2013. She has recently signed a contract for her rural romance The Protea Boys and has completed her second Australian historical novel Matilda’s Madness - inspired by some of the fascinating characters haunting the local museum.
When Téa is not haunting the Wollombi museum she can be found on Facebook, Twitter and Goodreads or you can visit her website or email her.


ABOUT TREE CHANGE…



Contemporary Australian Romance
Release date: 30 November 2012
Publisher: Breathless Press
Word count: 40,000




BLURB:
Despite her success in the Sydney art world Cassia yearns for the idyllic life she once lead with Jake in their shack over looking the Pacific Ocean. Seeking closure she falls, like a recovering addict, straight back into his arms, and out again equally quickly.  Not only has he his taken up with his brother's wife but it seems they have a child. 

Truth is Jake is living a lie, sworn to secrecy and hamstrung by a promise. Cassia’s fey, artistic character and magical body possess his imagination and his heart. Can he convince her to trust him long enough to save the crumbling remains of their relationship?

SHORT EXCERPT:
She dismissed his words with a wave of her hand, but her eyes betrayed her. He knew her too well. The burn of hurt behind their velvety depths had nothing to do with the here and now, but everything to do with the past. His fault? Lyle's fault? No one's fault? Just circumstance.
                "I need answers, and I need them now. I can't go on like this. Either we are together or we are not. You have to make a choice: Madeleine or me. I can't be a convenience you can pick up and put down as the mood takes you."
               "My feelings for you, Cass, are a million things but convenience isn't one of them." He shook his head in sorrowful disbelief. How could she not recognize the bond they had?
               "Madeleine?" Her raised eyebrows challenged him.
               "Right now I can't explain what happened with Madeleine, but her safety is paramount."
                Her body shuddered as if she was trying to lift a great weight. What was he doing to her? Madeleine, Madeleine, always Madeleine. "I can't do this again, Jake. I need to go home." Jake slipped her cardigan over her frail shoulders and then stepped back to allow her to lead the way past the bar and up the narrow stairs to street level.
               He unlocked the car door and held it open. Her skirt caught on the ribbons of her espadrille. As he leaned down to untangle them, she flinched. Closing her door with exaggerated care he walked around to the driver's door and let himself in. He clicked his seat belt into its clasp before he twisted the key in the ignition. The engine sprang to life, and he pulled out into the darkened street.
              "You have to trust me, Cass. I know it is difficult, but you just have to trust me and wait. Everything will be sorted out soon."
               Her sigh filled the car. "Jake, I can't. How can I? I've tried and look where we've ended up. Me in Sydney, and you living with your brother's girlfriend."
               "Wife," he corrected, regretting the word the moment it left his lips.

Buy Links:

ABOUT LILY’S LEAP
Historical Australian Romance
Release date: May 2013
Publisher: Lyrical Press
Word count: 45,000

BLURB:
Born into the privileged society of the squattocracy, Lilibeth Dungarven finds herself married, widowed and back under her father’s thumb all before her 21st birthday - a position this feisty and independent young woman fiercely resents. When she finally persuades her father to let her accompany a shipment of horses to Sydney, with the added promise of her stallion winning at the Windsor races she believes that her life is finally on the right track. That is until she is bailed up by a band of bushrangers who are intent on stealing her horses and holding her to ransom - a ransom her father is not prepared to pay.

SHORT EXCERPT:
Lily could see the pale ribbon of road below cutting through the trees and the bright blue expanse of sky wide-open in front of her.

Nero. You can do it,” she whispered into his sleek, shiny neck and he snorted in response. Her thigh muscles burned as she tightened her grasp on his flanks. His muscles tensed in response, attuned to her body. She gritted her teeth and willed her shaking hands to steady. “We can do this, Nero. We have to.” Her heart hammered so hard in her chest she thought it might leap right over the culvert and down the hill ahead of them.

With barely a moment’s hesitation she dug her heels into the stallion’s flanks and urged him down the hill. The last trees cleared and the sudden heat of the sun stung her face, then she crouched low over Nero’s neck. The clatter of his hooves on the sandstone surface told her they had reached the road. The blood raced through her veins, pulsing in her ears, a violent and excruciating pounding raged through her body.

Stop.” Tom’s command echoed around her as the blocks of the convict hewn, sandstone walls reared ahead of her. Surely it wasn’t such a huge jump for a horse like Nero?

She leaned forward in the saddle and her cheek brushed the dampness of his neck. Time slowed. With her eyes squeezed tightly shut she sucked in a great gulp of air and clenched her teeth tightly together. Nero lifted into the air. His muscles bunched beneath her and he flew over the chiseled blocks and down the slope. Her knees gripped the saddle and she dragged the reins almost vertical as they plunged down. Tufts of wiry grass and small rocks littered the route. She flinched as Nero’s hooves crashed across them. Gasping in a quick breath, she prayed for the terrain to level off.

Her lungs contracted like bellows and what little air remained, whistled out through her pursed lips. Nero tensed and she shuddered as he stumbled and then regained his balance. Her heart leapt to her throat and her wrists twisted as she wrenched on the reins to slow him. He quivered to a halt. Silver spots danced in front of her eyes and she gulped in a breath to feed her starving lungs. Nero’s muscled body trembled and quaked beneath her and white froth flecked his muzzle.

We did it, darling Nero. We did it.” The salty tang of his body filled her nostrils as she leaned over his neck murmuring endearments. She swayed with exertion and forced her rubbery muscles to respond as she squinted into the sunlight. Figures on horseback towered above her, stalled on the road. She had an overwhelming urge to wave her hand and shriek in triumph.

But she resisted; this was her opportunity and she had no time to waste. She cut away to the right praying her memory of the maps was correct as she searched for the track leading her to Laguna.

Lil-eee. Lil-eee.” Tom’s call bounced off the sandstone walls. Shading her eyes with her hand she stared back toward the culvert wall. It was empty.

Lil-eee. Lil-eee.” The sorrowful echo reached her, resounding somewhere deep in her gut. Her sweat-soaked curls clung to her face as she shook her head, raging at her ridiculous foolishness. After such an exhilarating and successful leap for freedom why did she suddenly feel so melancholy? Her heels bruised Nero’s flanks and she urged him away in a fast canter.

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Wow, I can really see how setting can change a character's mood, feelings, actions, and disposition.  This drums up all sorts of interesting ideas in my head.  Plopping a character down in their element, out of their element, can be a driving force in a story.  A character on vacation versus the their daily life?

Thank you so much for stopping by Téa, and thank you for this wonderful insight on the setting of a story.


Sunday, January 13, 2013

Special Guest Sunday - Raven McAllan

Hi Everyone,

This is a very special occasion!  Starting this week on my blog, I will  have a special guest on Sunday to discuss writing.  This week my special guest is Raven McAllan.  Thank you, Raven, for stopping by.


Crafts anyone?

So what do you consider is a craft? Crochet? Macrame? Water color painting? Or Maybe you'd say Zumba, ballroom dancing or yoga?
Does anyone think of adding writing to the list?
You see writing is a craft of many parts. It's not enough to put pen to paper or fingers to keys, you have to know your characters, reveal them to your readers and more importantly…to yourself.
I think this is one of the hardest things, as an author I personally can do. Because we are all individuals, and as such all have very different ideas of how you come to love or hate a hero. We as authors have to find that fine line that makes the maximum number of people believe.
That can be difficult.
I'm one of those people who don't like a lot of description of my hero or heroine. I like to make my own mind up about how they look. Give me hair color, eye color height etc…that's fine. I personally, don't like to be told they look like the actor so and so, or the politician you know who.
But some people do, and I need to remember that. That doesn't mean to say I do a detailed description of my characters, I don't. It's make your mind up time. I'm happy if you think hero a looks like actor b and heroine c looks like the female kick-ass politician D. But truthfully, as I write he's my idea of a hot-bod, and it doesn't fit any one person. As long as you have your vision in your head, and you write that vision, then your readers will get it/him/her.
In my latest book, A Shimmer Of Silk,) released Thursday 17th from www.evernightpublishing.com ) which is book two of my series The House On Silk Street, (book one is Solver Silk ties)I gave general ideas of how my characters looked. They are very vivid in my mind. However, unless I say er well, my friend Cairsti's hair, my daughter's eyes and that woman from that old game show's smile, I can't go into so many details. This is where I hope I've given you enough to use your imagination. And if you want to see the heroine as Lily Cole and the hero as Johnny Depp, that's fine with me.

Here's a taster or two.

Blurb…

Deborah may not know the full truth of her childhood, but she knows she needs to find her soul.
During one of her performances at Silk Street, she attracts the attention of Oliver, Lord Craster. Known for his extreme tastes, he sensed a kindred soul in Deborah.
Persuading her that their needs mesh proves a challenge, even to a man of his experience.
Will Oliver be the man she needs to unlock her secrets? Or will his dominance scare her too much to even try?
Are the nightmares simply too strong?

And a excerpt

Oliver speculated what was going through her mind as she lay on the bench, her body stretched and her face devoid of expression.
"Do it," Luc said. "For the love of God and De…her, do it now. Do not make her wait. That is cruel."
He was not a cruel man. Even as he wondered what Luc had been going to say, when he had stopped mid-word, Oliver held the candle high and watched. As if in slow motion the tiny tears of wax dripped and hit her skin. To him it was a caress, a bite of pain, which would morph into a swell of pleasure, and a hint of things to come. A gift he could give her. If he thought they had the chance.
"Another." Luc was insistent. "As we discussed. Now. While she is within herself."
His phrasing intrigued Oliver. Nevertheless, he tipped the taper once more, and created the patterns they had agreed upon. By now his peers were cheering, the sight of her soft flesh covered in the ribbons of cooling wax a turn on to all those there. Even if it was not their own preference, each could appreciate how something so misunderstood, and called deviant by many, was so necessary to others.
In one way it seemed an aeon before Luc indicated he was done. In another scant seconds. He handed the stub of the candle to Luc and took his bow, before he turned to the woman still supine in front of him. With what the watchers would see as theatrical, he bent his head. To all intents and purposed he was offering a soft kiss to her neck. In reality he moved and nipped her earlobe. "It is over. Come, make your bow and let us take you out of here."
******

It was one thing to agree to accompany Oliver; it was another to do it with insouciance and style. Deborah hung onto her composure by a thread. One word out of place, one unaccustomed challenge, and she feared she would fall to pieces. But deep inside her was an excitement she had never felt before. The recognition of hope and arousal that she sensed would over come any negative feelings, or doubts, within her.
He took her hand and tucked it into his as they walked along a brightly lit, deserted corridor. There were no doors to break the flow of the walls, just lamps at regular intervals. "We will see no one unless you wish it. My apartments are mine alone. Nevertheless, Felton knows you are with me, and I have given him my word, as I did to Luc, we will do nothing without your acceptance. I promise you this also. Our life will be ours. Not for us anything others want, it will be as we desire." He stopped suddenly and pulled her into his arms.
His cock pressed against her quim, and Deborah's breath hitched. Her mouth was dry, as she felt her juices run. It seemed preferable not to look down, for she was sure the pantaloons she wore would show the marks of her excitement. As Oliver's lips touched hers, she opened her mouth and let his tongue in, to mimic the act she knew they would enjoy later. As he thrust, she couldn't help but grind her cunt against his prick.
Oliver lifted his head. "Soon, love. You taste of nectar."
He tastes of hope.
Within minutes she was standing in a small entrance hall. Deborah looked round her, hoping to get an idea of the preferences of the man. It was bland, almost conventional with cream walls and a pale green a chaise set next to a drum table against one wall. The only splash of color was a bright gold and red cushion thrown carelessly to one end of the chaise. Oliver had evidently picked up on her puzzlement.
"This is for servants to deliver food etcetera. For visitors to wait in and for us to pass through as swift as we can. Are you ready? If not now is the time to say so. You can pull the rope and a servant will escort you to your room."
Her stomach was churning but with excitement not fear. The shivers she felt were those of anticipation, not worry.
"I thought this was now my room? To share with you? Are you reneging, my lord?" His face was a picture of astonishment. Deborah couldn’t help herself; she burst into laugher. "Oh, my lord, you should see your expression. It is a sight to behold. Truly, if I ever feel threatened, uncomfortable, or unable to sustain aught we do, I will say so. My safe word is sauf."
"Your safe word?" he said slowly. "What do you know of safe words?"
"Nothing except if we are to discover my limits, we need to decide on one. A word which if I utter, you will desist immediately in whatever activity we are partaking. That is not to say you will not return to the, er subject at a later date, once we have discussed any reluctance or questions I may have. Ah, Oliver, do you think I did not know the reasons why this house exists? Even if our, that is mine and Luc's enquiries, had not told us enough, Lord Dalrey was insistent we knew where and the likes of whom we were entertaining."
"And you are happy with this?"
She giggled. "Until I taste what you have in mind for us, how do I know?" Deborah thought it was a reasonable question in the circumstances. "In theory, I know some activities will be good, some will push me, and strain my thoughts and mind. Indeed, some things may be beyond my endurance and I cry stop. But which fits where has yet to be determined. Nevertheless, I wish to see what you deem suitable for us. I need, I must, discover myself." She dare not say more. Indeed, she would have been hard pressed to do so. Deborah had no idea how to describe the turmoil her emotions were in.
He gave her a sharp glance but didn't comment.
"Sauf it is." Oliver pushed open a door. "After you."
An imp of mischief made her curtsey and she saw the glint in his eyes.
"One day, your sauce will be your undoing, my love, I will remember."
She was sure he would. In a strange way she looked forward to it.

I've given you the general picture. You need to frame it…

Happy reading
Love R x

Find me here…





Raven Bio

Raven lives in Scotland, along with her husband and their two cats—their children having flown the nest—surrounded by beautiful scenery, which inspires a lot of the settings in her books.
She is used to sharing her life with the occasional deer, red squirrel, and lost tourist, to say nothing of the scourge of Scotland—the midge.
Her very understanding, and long-suffering DH, is used to his questions unanswered, the dust bunnies greeting him as he walks through the door, and rescuing burned offerings from the Aga. (And passing her a glass of wine as she types furiously.)








Wow, that was hot!  Thank you so much Raven for stopping by.  Loved the excerpt. If you have any thoughts/opinions about character descriptions, or about this amazingly hot excerpt, please feel free to post in the comments below.





Saturday, January 12, 2013

Ways to Come Up With Characters

Ways to Come Up With Characters

**Just letting you know, I'm not condoning in any way shape or form any sort of plagiarism at all.**

I just wanted to say that, as this post refers to using inspiration from other sources for inspiration for your own writing. I have found that this method does work and the end result is usually nothing like the beginning inspiration. Therefore there is no need to feel plagiarism at all.

So, you are stuck coming up with an interesting character. We've all been there.

What I've found that helps sometimes is to take references from other sources to help achieve your desired character.

(NOTE: That certain writing programs such as Scrivener you can put photos and source material in the program and bring it up when necessary. It's neat! I haven't had a chance to play with it, but the blog entry from Aurelia from December 30, has some great screen shots of it.)

Friends, Family, Movies, Books, Television, Theater, etc.

So, let's combine them.

My heroine, let's call her “Claire.” I want her to look like Anne Hathaway from Princess Diaries, and I want her to act like this girl I knew in college, Khloe, who was really prim and proper, and had a very overbearing mother, and I want to give her a distinguishing characteristic of having a long scar down the side of her neck that she is really embarrassed over so she wears her hair down all the time over it. I want her to work at a bakery, that her mother disapproves of. She ran off and got married at 18, and then her husband died. Her mother-in-law owns the bakery. She's in her early 30's now.

My hero, let's call him, “Gerald.” I want him to look like Mike Rowe from Dirty Jobs, but a little younger. He is old-fashioned, and acts somewhat like John Wayne in the movie McClintock. He thinks women should be all prim and proper, and the mother wants to set them up. He wants to buy the bakery and tear it down to make room for an old west style saloon that would cater to the tourists and make him lots of money. He has been considered a playboy.

So, there we go. We have two fleshed out characters. If I were to continue with this story, by the time I was done with it, there would be no way in knowing that I started off with the idea of Mike Rowe and Anne Hathaway. They will have become their own people. However, by doing this I'm getting a solid foundation of them in my mind.

Don't be afraid to give them bad attributes. It makes them more human and more realistic to the reader.
Give them scars, ticks, limps, bad attitudes, sarcasm, bald, etc. Keep them interesting.

Next up- Where to start?



Tuesday, January 1, 2013

Being mean to your characters.

Being mean to your characters.



Once upon a time there was this lady and everything possibly nice happened to her. She met a guy and they fell in love, and they lived happily ever after.

*yawn* Boring...

As a writer, your characters can become your friends, family, children, but just because they feel close to you does not mean you need to be sickeningly nice to them. A story where everything goes right for the characters is boring.

Let's take Hamlet for instance. (If you don't know Hamlet, go read it right now... no seriously... go do it... I'm waiting...)


Our major characters are:

Hamlet
King Hamlet- Hamlet's Dad
Claudius- Hamlet's Uncle
Gertrude- Hamlet's Mom
Polonius- Hamlet's Girlfriend's Dad
Ophelia- Hamlet's Girlfriend
Laertes- Hamlet's Girlfriend Brother

If you don't really know the story of Hamlet, but have seen the movie “The Lion King,” same thing.

OK, so what if Shakespeare had been nice to Hamlet.

King Hamlet never dies and they all live happily ever after.

The ghost never turns up to tell Hamlet that Claudius killed King Hamlet, therefore never torturing Hamlet into acting mad and finding out the truth.

Hamlet never acted mad therefore Ophelia never went off and “got thee to a nunery” and drowned. Also upset her dad died.

Hamlet never stabbed Polonius.

Etc.


All the complications given to the characters, whether through their own actions or outside forces are interesting. If everything nice happens to them then it is boring.

The question the audience would have, would be “why am I reading this?”

I have to warn about just using outside forces to affect the characters as that can be perceived as bad too, as why does only bad things happen to this character? This is a major problem that people have with the books of the Twilight series, as bad things just seem to happen to Bella, and she doesn't cause them, etc. Making the story boring. (Note: This is an example only, and something I've noticed from reviews of Twilight I have seen.)

When I'm writing, I like to think to myself, "Am I being too nice?" 

If I find a boring patch, I make something bad happen.  Keeps things interesting.



Next Up- Ways to Come Up With Characters