G is for Game

Is writing a game?

A game of chance perhaps?

How do we know whether a publisher will accept our precious manuscript? Should we self-publish instead? 

Writing is a profession that is getting harder and harder to break into and it breaks our hearts when something we’ve spent months and perhaps even years working on is turned down. Is it any wonder, then, that writers turn to self-publishing? It could be seen as a gateway into becoming a published author, or it could be something that appeals to aspiring writers because they can write the story they want. It does, of course, need to be of professional quality, otherwise readers might cast it to one side and not read anything else that you write.

I know when I started writing it was a game to me. I was writing because I enjoyed it, not initially believing I would ever do anything with my manuscript. I’d simply had an idea for a story and went for it. I’d always enjoyed English at school, so it was an added bonus when I became a published author. (I even found out where my retired English teacher lived and sent her a letter telling her about it. She said she wasn’t surprised because I had always been good at English.)

G is for Good-bye Summer

It's back to school for Debra.

The temperatures are still in the 80s...sometimes even nudging the 90s. The flowers are still blooming. The trees still have their lush foliage. And the cicadas are still buzzing. But for me, summer is over.

This week I headed back to school. I've been organizing and planning and rearranging and updating to get ready for a new set of third graders. They'll show up next week. The excitement of a new group of kids is always something I look forward to, but there are definitely things I'll miss about summer. Driving around during the day in my convertible running errands. Reading book after book out on the front porch. Weekly trips out to see my mom and dad. Staying up a little bit late. Sleeping in...ah...sleeping in...getting up early is definitely the bane of my existence.

Usually at this point I'm also lamenting the loss of my writing time. In the past, I would spend my summers tapping away at my keyboard. (The best investment I ever made was in a lap top so I could 'travel' around my house - both indoors and out - while I wrote.) I would make great progress, often finishing up, polishing, and submitting a book.

Alas, this was not the case this summer. I've noticed a gradual decline in my writing productivity over the last few summers, but this year I hit an all-time low. Aside from a few rounds of additions/revisions/edits on my New Year's Eve story, I wrote less than 200 words on new projects this summer. In some ways, this is a staggering, awful number. I knew I didn't accomplish much in the way of writing this summer, but to actually look at a number like that could be a bit depressing.

But for whatever reason...I'm okay with it. Over the past few years my writing habits have changed and evolved. I don't get most of my writing done in the summer. Summer is my brain break. Not just from school, but from 'life' as well. I scrapbook. I read. I shop. I visit with family. I explore. In essence, I don't do much of anything that has to do with 'real' life. Oh, I keep up with the mandatory stuff: paying bills, cooking, etc. But for me, summer is all about relaxing. I used to teach summer school. And I took classes and earned my Master's Degree. After completing that three year cycle, I treated myself to a summer off. Now, ten years later, I'm still taking summers off. Teaching is not the 'go-in-at-nine-and-you're-home-by-three' job most people perceive it to be. It's hard work. And it's stressful. And it's tiring. Of course it's also rewarding and fun and exciting and challenging and each day is a new day that you don't know what will bring. Knowing I'm shaping the future is an awesomely powerful privilege...and a huge responsibility.

So I take the summers off. And if people have a problem with that and think I have a cushy job...well, that's THEIR problem.

With a routine settling into place with fall approaching, I have a good feeling that my writing will get back on track too. Even if I haven't been writing at the computer, I have been thinking about ideas. I revisited a project I'd put away last year when I got 'side-tracked' by the Holidays at The Corral series. Right now that's probably what I'll be working on come fall as I get back into a routine that also includes writing. I also have ideas for two new series I'd like to pursue.

It hasn't been a totally unproductive year. All told in 2016 I'll release four books (novellas). That's not too shabby. And even though there may be a bit of a lull in my publishing output since nothing I have in the works is anywhere near ready to go, I'm okay with resting on my backlist for a little bit. I have a crazy idea for promoting my NYE story come December, so we'll see what happens with that. :)

For now, I'm going to wave good-bye to summer and welcome the upcomng autumn with open arms.

Until next time,

Happy Reading!

Debra
www.debrastjohnromance.com

G is for Galway

Paula invites you to visit Galway in the west of Ireland, which features in all her 'Irish' books.  

Galway lies on the River Corrib where it enters Galway Bay. The Irish name for the river is Gaillimhe, meaning stony river, and the original settlement was called Dun Bhun na Gaillimhe, ‘fort at the mouth of the Gaillimhe.’

One of Galway’s nicknames is ‘City of the Fourteen Tribes’ which refers to the merchant families who controlled the city in the Middle Ages. They are remembered in the flags which fly in Eyre Square in the centre of the city, and also in the names of the roundabouts (traffic circles) on the Galway ring road.

The city thrived on international trade in the Middle Ages, especially with France and Spain, and the ‘Spanish Arch’ was constructed near the harbour in the 16th century.

There is also a legend that Christopher Columbus visited Galway. Several years later, he wrote a note in his copy of Imago Mundi, saying, ‘Men of Cathay have come from the west. We have seen many signs. And especially in Galway in Ireland, a man and a woman of extraordinary appearance have come to land on two tree trunks.’ It is said that this is what persuaded him to sail across the Atlantic, having seen the signs of a land beyond the ocean. This monument was presented by the city of Genoa to Galway on the 500th anniversary of the discovery of America.

Adjacent to the city is Claddagh, originally a small fishing village outside the city walls. The thatched cottages were demolished in the 1930s, and colour washed stone houses now line the quayside.

And, of course, there is Galway Bay, one of the largest inlets on the west coast of Ireland. About 30 miles long, and between 6 and 19 miles wide, it separates County Galway in the north and County Clare in the south. Here’s the view of the bay from one of the hotels I stayed at on the promenade at Salthill, Galway’s seaside suburb.

From one of our favourite restaurants on the coast, a few miles west of Galway, we once saw a beautiful rainbow over the bay (but not the pot of gold at the rainbow’s end!).

And here, near the western end, is where the bay meets the Atlantic. If you sailed due west from here, you’d reach Goose Bay in Labrador.

One of my favourite Irish songs starts:

“If you ever go across the sea to Ireland

Then maybe at the closing of your day

You will sit and watch the moon rise over Claddagh

Or see the sun go down on Galway Bay.”

One evening we hoped to see the sun set on the bay, but got stuck in a traffic jam on the way. Watching the sun go down on the Galway Ring Road isn’t quite the same! But the next evening, we reached the small beach at Furbo in time to see the sun going down on Galway Bay, one of the most beautiful sunsets I’ve ever seen.

G Is For Gideon

Jennifer talks about her first book hero...

Gideon is the hero of the first romance I ever published, AHeart of Little Faith. He’s the first hero of mine I ever fell in love with and even now, several years and more polished writing skills later, he’s still my favorite (although Dan, the hero in my current WIP is turning into a close second).

He’s hard on the outside—proud, stubborn and independent—but soft inside. He’s a sucker for kids and is fiercely loyal to his friends and sister. And he’s the first to offer anyone help who needs it.

Burned by a woman in the past, he’s hesitant to let himself fall in love again. When his boss, who’s a force of nature and a frat boy combined into one boisterous package, threatens to fix him up, Gideon knows he has to do something, so he makes a bargain with the heroine, Lily. And, well, things happen. J

I had a lot of fun writing this book. He was a complicated hero to write, but he turned out well. If you’ve read it, I’d love to know what you think.

Who are your favorite heroes to read and/or write?

G is for Good News

Ana waits for good news.

The good news I am hoping to hear is acceptance of my first romance from Entangled Publishing. An editor requested a full after I entered a first 100 words contest through the Hearts Through History chapter.

Excited, I finished the manuscript and submitted it. Entangled gave me a passcode to check on its progress. It's been "in progress" for seventy days.

I still have a good feeling about its chances for acceptance, but do not hold my hopes off the ground.
There are other publishers. I could go back to my original plan to self-publish. In the meantime, I am following the classic advice : start on another WIP.

What do you do after you hit send? How do you wait for good news?

F is for Feelings

Margaret talks about expressing feelings.  

Feelings are possibly the most important part of a romance novel. We have the story line, the conflict, and whatever else is going on but feelings are vital. As we read a book we (hopefully) experience the character’s feelings and emotions. I know I’ve felt tearful, surprised, joyful, as well as lots of other emotions while writing and also reading other authors’ books. I actually called one of mine Feelings where my heroine was jilted the day before her wedding. Naturally it put her off men but eventually the inevitable happened. Not that it was love at first sight when she met the man she was to ultimately marry.

Here’s how they met:

“Melly, love, I’d like you to meet Benedict Burton. Beebee for short. And this Beebee, is Melissa Sutherland, the daughter of a very dear friend of mine, and a very competent secretary.”

Melissa was horrified. This was Beebee? And she was expected to work with him for the next three days? It was not a woman as she had expected, but a man. The despised sex. She couldn’t. She wouldn’t! But she was forgetting he wasn’t interested in her. All she had to do was be good at her job. There would be no unwelcome advances.

He nodded his head curtly in acknowledgement of Vivienne’s introduction, but did not offer his hand. “Have you experience in advertising, Miss Sutherland?”

Vivienne answered for her. “No, she hasn’t, but she’s a quick learner, and I have no doubts that she’ll fit in. And you can’t call her Miss Sutherland. It’s Melissa, or Melly if you prefer.”

Benedict Burton clearly had doubts about her qualifications, many of them. His smoky grey eyes were taking in every inch of her, from the thick reddish-brown hair scraped back from her shining face, her eyes which looked smaller without mascara on her pale lashes, the shadows beneath them, her bloodless lips, right down to her feet in a pair of flat-heeled sandals.

Melissa caught Vivienne’s eye and accepted the challenge. “I’m sorry, Mr Burton – or may I call you Benedict? – if I don’t exactly conform with the image you have in mind. I’ll just have to make sure that my work more than compensates for my lack of – beauty.”

His lips thinned. “It’s nothing to do with me what you look like.”

“But I did hear you tell Aunt Viv that I looked like a mouse – or was it a lame duck? I’m not sure.” Melissa did not know what was driving her. She simply wanted to humiliate him as he had her.

“Didn’t you know that eavesdroppers never hear good of themselves?” His voice was ominously quiet, betraying his anger far more than if he had shouted.

“How could I help it when the door was open and your voice was loud enough to be heard in the street?”

“Children, children,” intervened Vivienne. “I think that’s enough.”

Melissa felt the blood rush to her cheeks. “I’m sorry, Aunt Viv. That was very rude. I don’t know what came over me.

The older woman smiled. “I think I do. Beebee can be extremely overpowering. You’ll soon get used to him.” And in a louder tone, “Won’t she, Beebee? Tell her your bark’s worse than your bite.

He merely grunted and turned back into Vivienne’s office, this time closing the door firmly.

Vivienne shook her head, smiling broadly. “I should have warned you about Beebee. He’s a law unto himself. He’s my godson; you must have heard me mention him?”

Melissa shook her head.

“He worked his way up in the business until eventually I made him my partner. I don’t know what I’d do without him now. I love that boy.”

Boy? Melissa did not class him as a boy. He was a man, all man, as masculine as they come. Ruthless, arrogant, domineering. And she did not see how she was going to work amicably with him for the next three days. Although, on the other hand, it might be fun proving she was not the dimwit he had dubbed her.

Feelings are an integral part of our lives, the emotional side to our character. Do we have feelings when we write romantic fiction? Most definitely. We feel everything that our heroine or hero goes through – we live their lives for them. You simply cannot write without entering into that person’s mind, whether you’re writing romance, crime, science fiction or any other genre.

F is for Fourth of July at The Corral

Fourth of July is the third (and middle) installment in Debra's Holidays at The Corral Series.

I know I've mentioned it before, but I tend to get inspired by music. My genre of choice is country, and someone once said to me, "There's a story in every song". For me, it doesn't even need to be an entire song. Sometimes, a verse or a stanza or a single line can trigger an idea. So it happened with a song sung by Rodney Atkins called "The River Just Knows". There are a couple verses in the middle which go like this:

The way the sun bounced off the water
I could hardly make him out
But I could see he had a fish on
A big ole rainbow trout
The fight went on forever
And as they headed down my way, I saw his
military hair cut and the new scars on his face
Right then I knew what brought him to this place

You know the river don't talk, the river don't care
Where you've been, what you've done
Don't know why it is your standin' there
It just rolls on by whisperin' to your soul
It's gonna be alright, the river just knows

He held that fish down in the water
And he coaxed it to back to life
He said "I'll help, you get your wind back
'Cause you helped me get mine."
And all I could think to say was "Welcome home."
But I think that river said it best on its own

The first time I heard the song it made me want to write a story about a military hero who comes home wounded. I started the beginning, but didn't get much past the first page. When I decided to write a series of holiday stories, it dawned on me that the military hero book would be perfect for a Fourth of July story. Just like in the song, my hero has scars on his face from an IED explosion during a tour of duty in Afghanistan. He's sent home to recover. At one point in the story, Tyler heads down to the river to let it ease the stress and strain of life. The scene comes complete with a stranger offering him a fishing pole and a "Welcome home, son."

To get to the root of the conflict in the story (SPOILER here), I turned to another song. This one "Two Pink Lines" sung by Eric Church. In it, a guy and girl indulge in a brief summer affair that culminates in them waiting to see if two pink lines materialize on a home pregnancy test.

Yeah, that second hand just keeps slowing down
I swear it stopped twice the last time around
Yeah, we'll know the truth in 3 minutes time
We're just sitting around waiting on two pink lines
Sitting around waiting on two pink lines

When the moment of truth finally comes
She gives me a look
And then comes undone
She says, "It looks like we're lucky
Someone's smiling down."
She grabs her coat and says,
"See ya around."

In the song, the result is negative and they each go their separate ways. But I had a thought. What if it was really positive, but she lied so he wouldn't feel trapped?

So, I combined the two ideas and in my story, not only is Tyler injured in the line of duty, but he comes back to discover he has a son he never knew about. The two of them waiting on the pregnancy test results appears as a flashback in the story.

Even though I can't carry a tune in a bucket, music is a huge part of my life. For me it defines my memories and brings me endless amounts of inspiration. And when I hear those lines in the songs now, I immediately think of my characters. It makes them even more real to me.

Until next time,

Happy Reading!

Debra
www.debrastjohnromance.com