Croatian Inspiration

Two weeks ago, I was wondering if my trip to Croatia would provide me with any inspiration for a novel. I’m happy to report success!

 

On the third day, as we travelled along the coast from the small town of Omis (where we were staying) to the city of Split, our tour manager, Kevin, pointed out several boatyards. He told us the Croatians used to be excellent shipbuilders, but most had now turned their hands to converting ancient rusty fishing boats into luxury yachts. We actually saw one of these ‘conversions’ at a small port near to Split – it’s the one on the left which Kevin said he’d seen in its original rusty state, and watched the conversion over several months.

 

The cogs started turning in my mind. Smuggling, maybe? Or what if something had been hidden on the old fishing boat, and ‘someone’ (a few years later) needed to find whatever it was?

Later during the tour, Kevin gave us a lot of information about the war in the 1990s between the Croats and Serbs, and my original idea started to grow. What if the fishing boat had been used to bring someone out of Croatia during the war, maybe because he’d been spying on Serb positions in the mountains, and relaying information to the Croatian army? And suppose the rescue went wrong – and the boat held the clue to who had compromised the mission?

I put this basic scenario to Kevin and asked him if it was feasible. Yes, he said, and then proceeded to give me more information about the many islands off the coast, especially one that (from the mainland) can only be seen from a Croatian fort that guarded a mountain pass (and thus protected the city of Split from being attacked by the Serbs). Even better, during the Communist era, this island had been a military base, and had a port and landing strip.

Now the cogs really were starting to whizz around, and by the end of the week, I’d drafted a short prologue about an unsuccessful rescue in 1993.

Jump forward 20 years, and perhaps the daughter of someone involved in the rescue comes to Croatia to find out just what happened to her father. Of course, she’ll then meet the hero, and …

Well, that’s about as far as I’ve got at the moment, apart from a few scenes with the hero and heroine. For example, he’s going to take her in a small launch up the Cetina river from Omis –

 

 

and he’ll take her to a traditional ‘klapa’ night at a hotel – four (or more) men singing Dalmatian songs a capella. I have my own experiences to draw on for both these scenes.

 

Kevin must have read my mind because, on the last day, he asked me if I’d bought the CD of the klapa singers who entertained us in Split. When I said I hadn’t, he pulled a CD from his bag and gave it to me, saying, “Play this to inspire you while you’re writing your story."

 

Sunset from our hotel near Dubrovnik

 

Blog Tour Results

Well, I’m two-thirds of the way through my blog tour with Goddess Fish Promotions and I have to say I’m pretty pleased with the results. They set up a two-week excerpt tour, with each stop offering an exclusive excerpt of my book, as well as my bio and the book blurb. People who comment will be entered into a drawing to win an Amazon gift card and chocolate. I wasn’t required to respond to comments, although I did because I think it’s important to build relationships with readers. This last week is a review tour, where I provided a .pdf copy to five different review bloggers and each one publishes their review on a different day of the week. So far, I received an excellent review today; who knows what will happen with the rest of the days. Commenters are also entered into the drawing I mentioned above.

I haven’t yet seen my sales for the book, and I still don’t understand how to measure hits on Google, but I will say that I’ve reached many more people than I have setting up my own blog tours. And many of the people who commented have followed the tour every day—perhaps they just really like chocolate—but it’s given me a chance to start a relationship with them, and based on the comments back and forth, I’m definitely finding success with that. Several of the people who have left comments have said they downloaded the book based on the tour, or are planning to do so.

I’m seeing fewer comments on the review side of the tour, although I’m still getting them. Some of that could be that I’m not really publicizing the review tour on social media; if I get a good review, I publicize the Amazon review on Facebook and Twitter, that way, it’s a bit of a different announcement from me.

Overall, I think I’d do this again; however, I’d make one significant change. I would not set up my own blog tour right before the Goddess Fish one. I think people get tired of me, especially my Facebook friends, and hearing me plug my book for three weeks in a row, every day, gets a bit old. Next time around, I’ll spread the two tours out more.

Back on the psychiatrist's couch

      "I love books, Doctor Lexicon," I say. "Hardcover, softcover, classic, trashy. Every kind of book. Even e-books. I always have."

      He nods sympathetically and then urges me to continue.

      "When I was young, I wanted to be a biblipole. I'd scour garage sales hoping to discover an original Little Women. That came in two volumes, you know. Or a forgotten first edition Whitman." I sigh. "I was so naive."

      "How so?" His voice is high-pitched, Freudian.

      My face floods with shame. It's the reason I'm lying on his couch again.

      "I love all books," I repeat. "And books are made up of words."

       I stop on the precipice of my confession, search his sunglasses until I see a glint of reassurance, and   

blurt out, "I don't love all words."

       He exhales sharply, his cheeks flapping like they're in the windblast of a slamming-shut Gutenberg Bible. Consummate professional, he quickly reasserts his composure. "Which words?"

      "Pert and frisson," I whisper. "It happened when I switched from thrillers to romances."

       He opens a dictionary. "Pert: Impudent; a pert remark. High-spirited, as in lively. Jaunty, like a ponytail."

       "Doctor, does pert mean turned up? Can can a nose be pert? A chin high-spirited? Breasts impudent?"

      "The meanings of words evolve over time. Let's move on to frisson. It comes from Latin frgre, meaning to be cold. Old French changed it to fricons, a trembling. An almost pleasurable sensation of fright or shock. A quiver, shudder, tingle, chill, thrill, shiver."

      "Can it be used in love scenes?"

      He smiles. "Close your eyes. Imagine you are at a party and the man you secretly love walks in. His eyes search the room until they land on you. He starts toward you, wanting to talk to you. You shiver with anticipation, with excitement. That's frisson."

      My mind relaxes, and I know I will finally be able to sleep again. I understand frisson.

      And pert implies sass mixed with beguile.

Another New Cover!

To say I'm blown away by the cover for This Feels Like Home is an understatement. I just love, love, love it. It is so perfect for the story. It might just be my favorite of all of my covers so far.

And on that note, I'll just let it speak for itself...

Can a danger-addicted cowboy and a safety-conscious urbanite ever see eye-to-eye?

Until next time,

Happy Reading!

Debra
www.debrastjohnromance.com

Public Speaking

They say writers are introverts. They say writers like to be alone with their imaginary characters. They say writers are “word people.”

Well, I don’t know who “they” are, and I certainly can’t speak for all writers, but for myself, I’d have to say that the above statements are at least partially true. I’m not a complete introvert, but I’m not a complete extrovert, either. It depends on the situation, and my comfort zone lies somewhere in between the two. I like to listen, although I do also like to make people laugh. When my “imaginary characters” cooperate, yes, I like to be alone with them—they’re my means of escape from the crazy outside world. But I’m not a hermit and I love to be with my family and friends. I do like words, but that doesn’t mean I’m an expert by any means.

The thing about being a writer that makes me laugh, though, is that it has forced me out of my comfort zone so many times, and continues to do so. Take, for example, a phone call I received yesterday. An old friend from my temple, who moved away earlier this year, called me to see if I would be interested in speaking to her Hadassah group about writing Jewish romances.

My usual response, before becoming a writer—and yes, I realize that if I wasn’t a writer, I wouldn’t have been asked to speak about this particular topic; work with me here—would have been to drop the phone. But I’ve actually been asked to do this, with maybe slightly different topics, often enough that I took it in stride, although the offer to pay me threw me for a bit of a loop!

I’m happy to talk to the group. I know that the more I get out there, the more books I’ll sell. And I also realize that public speaking is a muscle that has to be exercised. I’ve even started working on what I can say, after a frantic call to my mother. Now I just need to work up the courage to stand in front of a room full of people and speak.

Gulp.

Bees are not in my bonnet

One of my summertime activities is beekeeping. We have at least one hive per garden for pollination, good vibrations, and personal fascination. And wonderful raw honey for oatmeal breakfasts.

Yesterday Sarah and I put a second deep super on the new hive behind the garden shed. The white specks in the air are bees.  The hive cover is next to my feet. I am staring into the hive at bees, frames and brood. We didn't smoke the bees; it was sunny and warm, and they are not yet up to full strength.
This was a good call--we didn't have any angry bee buzzing or stings.

Bees are amazing and essential creatures. They are also suffering from mysterious problems that science has not solved. I have read many bee books and try to keep up with bee news (this post's link to words and writing).

The Elusive On/Off Switch

I had grand writing plans for the summer. I pictured myself happily typing away out on the front porch, back by the pond, or even in the living room. Words would pour from my finger tips and the pages would accumulate faster than I ever imagined. My story would take shape, my characters would come to life, I'd be back in the groove.

So far, that hasn't happened. Now granted, I'm only officially less than a week into summer vacation. But I've discovered that getting back on track with my writing isn't like turning a light switch on. There's much more to it. Motivation. Drive. Persistence. And the willingness to sit and actually get it done. Those things have not yet made an appearance. I've dabbled in some other writing things. I finished my second round of edits on This Feels Like Home and came up with an opening letter to the readers. I've made a list of the things I need to do to update my web-site. But other than that...

...Zip. Nada. Zilch.

I have a project I could be working on. And an idea for another one. I just don't have the aforementioned drive or motivation to do anything about them.

I've been caught up in the sheer joy of being able to run errands (in my convertible now that the weather is warm - FINALLY!) during the day. Of getting together with friends in the evening or watching triple overtime playoff hockey (Go Hawks!) and not having to worry about going to bed early because I have to get up in the morning. Of taking a book out onto the front porch and enjoying the sounds of summer around me while I immerse myself in someone else's story. All of these things are wonderful. But they aren't helping me one whit get going with my writing.

At this point, I'm not sure if I force it...just get the dang lap top out and do something...or if I just wait it out. I mean, let's be honest, it's not like I have adoring legions of fans out there just waiting on pins and needles for my next book. This is a hobby for me. Something fun to do. If I make it into more thing to stress me out that I feel like I have to get done, there's no joy in that. This brings me to the conclusion that I couldn't ever be a full-time writer. If I actually had to make a living doing this, I'm pretty sure I'd wind up in the poor house.

But I would like to recapture the fun, the joy, the pleasure of writing. So like Scarlett says, " After all, tomorrow is another day." Because today I'm heading off to the Botanic Gardens with a friend, then lunch, then to get my nails done.

Ah summer.

Until next time,

Happy Reading!

Debra
www.debrastjohnromance.com