We have another fabulously talented author joining us this Wednesday. You might have read the great reviews she’s been garnering for her most recent release HIS FOR THE TAKING at Smart Bitches Love Trashy Books, and also over at Dear Author, now you’ll get the slightly warped story behind the story straight from the author. (And I use ‘warped’ in the most complimentary manner possible.)

That’s right folks the funny, charming, slightly warped–and I’ll come clean, past critique partner of mine–Julie Cohen will be joining us!

Stay tuned…

When I encounter people for the very first time, I must admit that their eyes are one of the first things I notice.  Whether they’re truly “windows to the soul” I can’t say, but they do make a vivid impression on me.

The eyes are also very important to me as a writer when it comes to describing/defining my characters.  I make frequent references to them, sometimes unconsciously, especially when it comes to my heroes.

Do the eyes of your heroes (or the heroes you read about) make an impact on you?
I’m pasting little “slices of souls”—cropped photos of a few interesting specimens below.  You may or may not recognize them, but that’s not really important.
Do any of these make a special impression on you?
Sexy?  Suave?  Sweet?  Sneaky?  Cold?  Untrustworthy?  Droolworthy?

And if possible, can you explain exactly what it is about the eyes that affects you in a certain way?  The brow?  Lashes?  Color, if shown?  Playfulness?  Sincerity?  Intensity?  It might come in handy for some struggling writer somewhere (snort!) trying to nail a description.

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9) 

Some would say I was a bad girl yesterday, but in hindsight, I’d have to disagree with them. In fact, I’d recommend doing what I did every now and then.

What did I do, you ask?

ABSOFREAKINLUTELY NOTHING!

That’s right, dear friends. It was a no-writing day for me. Procrastination-city, baybee! I just wasn’t in the mood. Am I repentant? Um…. no. Do I feel guilty? Heck no!

Hey, I needed the break. I’m still getting over a vicious flu bug that had me in bed for most of last week. My body is still recovering. My brain is also a bit foggy too. This thanks to Alka Seltzer Plus, Motrin and Robitussin. That’s why writing was the last thing on my mind.

In short, the words are just not there right now.

So I surfed the web (research… okay?). I also read (or tried to read) a few books. Played Mahjong and Solitaire. I even attempted to finish my Golden Heart judging, but I kept nodding off. Not good. That’s when I raided my ’80s DVD stash. I had the most fun watching Flash Dance again. I also watched half of Blade Runner.

Sometimes procrastination is good. Sometimes you need to clear your mind of all the junk, ya know?

How about you? What are your favorite ways to procrastinate?

This is my first guest blog.

The Chicas are taking my virginity. Don’t tell my significant other.

Anyway, I’m here to talk about my book.  How Much You Want to Bet?  A short contemporary romance.  From here on out it will be referenced as HMYWTB.
 
Well, back in 1985 a writer was born . . . I’m kidding.

 
Here’s the story:
 
It took me 15 months to finally step away from my first novel and say it was done. It took me maybe an hour to write the first chapter of HMYWTB. Then I let it rust on my hardrive until I finished my first novel. I went back and made a nice attempt at writing HMYWTB. It sucked and it sucked BAD. But I loved that first chapter. It had such energy. It broke the rule of opening a book with a flashback. Neil Sullivan, the heroine, was a construction worker who had backbone, bite, and secrets. And Gib *sigh*, a cocky, carefree millionaire was the perfect match for her. He’d remind her of all the things she left behind. She’d grounded him. My muses handed this story to me on a silver platter, and honestly I didn’t know how to fix it.
 
So instead of fixing it, I wrote a romantic suspense. I finished the romantic suspense, but something kept pulling me back to this story. I submitted a Q & S to a publisher and received a form rejection. Add some more rust to my hardrive, add some craft, add another 20k written on another story then we’d come to the second time I submitted this book.
 
You might hate me after I admit this, but when I sent HMYWTB to my publisher it was on a whim. I figured I was going to get a rejection. All I wanted was some feedback. I sent it, forgot about it, and received a rejection that changed my life. It was on the romantic suspense.
 
Have you ever had a knife shoved into your heart, then twisted 3/4 to the left? I don’t think so, but imagine it . . . hold the image for a second . . . then you know how that rejection felt. The editor pointed out the book didn’t have conflict, my grammar sucked butt, I should get some critique partners (which I had), and her parting line was, “I hope you have better luck with other publishers.” This may not be verbatim, but you get my drift.
 
Then I received another e-mail that changed my life. The editor from the other publisher wanted a full. She loved the first three chapters. She wanted more. I went back to HMYWTB with the other editor’s words ringing in my head. I fixed the conflict that disappeared around chapter 4. I put in more emotion. I made friends with my delete button. I completely rewrote the ending. I cut info dumps. I got rid of 3/4 of the head hopping. I thought of the first chapter and that feeling I got from writing it and held it close to my chest and wrote my heart out. I sent that sucker off.
 
A week later I received an e-mail with a subject line, “Contract Offer.”
 
I’m not sure what the moral of this post is. (Of course go buy my book. PLEASE!) Maybe it’s write for the fun of it, publishing will come when it’s your time. It’s okay to let a book rust on your hardrive until you know how to write it. Submit on a whim. No, it’s really write because you love it. Write because the characters won’t leave you alone. Write because you can NOT write. Write it and they will come. Yeah, that’s the moral.
 
As a side note: The first chapter of How Much You Want to Bet? is basically the same one I wrote almost three years ago.  

If you liked this post you can find many others like it at http://www.melthegreatest.blogspot.com/ If you are feeling charitable, you can find my book at http://thewildrosepress.com/ in two days, Feb. 15th.
 
Or if you’re into instant gratification you can ask me questions here. Any questions, I’m not shy.
 
Melissa Blue and I’m out. 

Since we’re on the topic of love and romance {snort} yeah right . . .  I was talking w/ Miss Lynn this weekend. I have been trying to “break” into Harlequin. I think every author has an eye on that one NY publisher they want to hit, theone that is the be-all end-all for their goal/list and yeppers, HQ is, was and has been mine! Pretty much from when I started writing for publication I wanted the little quadruple diamond on my paycheck and have (somewhat) focused on that. But alas, I have had one book or another rejected by them.

I will say however, I have been getting more and more detailed rejection letters with suggestions for revisions and explanations as to why it didn’t quite fit–this is a good thing for those who haven’t made the trek through rejections hell yet. Better to have details and knowledge they actually read the book, took enough interest as to form an actual opinion than to have a blanket “thanks but no thanks” stamped siggy. Anyhoo I digress . . . .

So I was saying to Lynn, I don’t think I can write sentimental enough for Harlequin (and this is not to offend anyone who writes for Harlequin–I *Heart* Harlequin–have lived off Harlequin books since I was 13 and stole a dozen Supperromance novels from my Jersey Aunt–wonder if she knows–and read every single one in about a week, then re-read them all and was totally hooked). There is a certain “ahhhhhh… how sweet” to Harlequin romance novels and I so wanna be that way, but well, I am not a terribly sweet person. I have my moments, but’s let’s just say it’s a good thing I have four boys rather than girls.

I have often questioned whether you write what you wanna write or you write what you think this publisher or that publisher wants to have. I realize it is really kind of a mix of both. But damn there are days when that seems so hard. And it can almost be a manic feeling that “OMG, I haven’t sold this,” or “they rejected that” and you consider chucking the laptop out the window. I have the latest rejection letter sitting where I can see it anytime I write–or don’t write almost taunting. Can you obsession?

One thing that has been a total double edged sword that may work on my behalf, I am uber-obsessive. I have ”the list” of things that need to be done be it goals or the umpteen tasks I have agreed to tackle whether I have time or not. I am loathe to let anything go unfinished–well apparently this doesn’t include two particual manuscripts–but one could say I am obsessive in how I avoid finishing them–right? (No, not a good excuse–damnitalltohell.) So I will chug on and one day I daresay I will get that dern quadruple diamond and have a huge ass smile!

What about you? Obsess much? Please tell me I am not the only one . . . . .

To VD…….

No hearts, no flowers, no candy, no roses, no money for…..THE MAN. And no, I’m not talking about YOUR man, I’m talking about the man who makes all that money off of what amounts to a man-ufactured holiday. It is time for us, all of us, to put our foot down and say NO MORE. No more commercial holidays. No more colored candy. No more diamond sales. No more expensive dinners. No more chocolate. Sorry had to scratch that last one….they threatened to take away my Woman Card.

It’s bad enough what they did to Christmas and Easter (Jesus wasn’t crucified so your kid could get a colored bunny and a new dress)…and yes Halloween and Thanksgiving too. PEOPLE WAKE UP. You’re being conned out of your hard-earned money. Do you know what those DeBeers commercials really mean? You know, the one about leaving your woman speechless? Comedian, Ron White says, “Diamonds. That’ll shut her up.” That’s what they really mean. (PS I love Ron White–he’s so crass).

I found this luscious tidbit over at DumpYourWifeNow (obviously THEY are all for boycotting VD).

Real romance is about spontaneity, choice, and reciprocity. Valentine’s Day, on the other hand, is contrived, commercial, unilateral nonsense. If you want to do something special and genuine, choose her birthday and other times when she least expects it. Anything done on Valentine’s Day is a joke.

From Fox News: “It’s supposed to be a holiday of happiness and warmth but instead ends up being a holiday of stress and fear.”

Though it’s technically a celebration of all manifestations of love, Valentine’s Day — named for St. Valentine, who, legend has it, wrote a passionate letter to the apple of his eye from prison, which he signed “From Your Valentine” — is more about the romantic kind than anything else. The young newlywed from Connecticut said words on a page wouldn’t suffice in this day in age.

“If we just wrote a letter, we’d be in the doghouse,” he said.

(snip)

“Valentine’s Day is a time for retailers to rape and pillage,” said the Nantucket husband.

It’s precisely all the pressure — to be part of a couple, to be romantic, to be generous, to be thoughtful — that makes people turn against Feb. 14, sometimes vehemently. Robarge, the Glamour editor, said she “physically rejected” the holiday last year by getting violently ill after a cozy evening of drinking wine and eating cheese with her then-boyfriend.

So it’s (probably) too late to really do anything this year (I guess), but I encourage the world to boycott Valentines Day. Stop the Madness.

There are better and yes, more meaningful ways to say I Love MyselfYou.

I encourage you all to take my little button up there and put it on your blog….keep it up all year long and next year, hopefully February 14th will just be another day in the life. Now, go forth and boycott!

I have something to say.

Big surprise, since this is a blog, huh?

But I brought something with me to help me get my thoughts across.

I put it somewhere…
Wait a minute, I just had it.  Can’t be too far away, and…
Oh yeah.  here it is.

I have certain people in my life—people who are fairly important to me in one way or another—who simply won’t read my books.
Of course, some of that is my fault.  I haven’t bothered to tell them what I’m writing because I know them and what their reaction would be.
After all, my books feature fairly explicit S-E-X.
And heaven forbid we should read about a pleasurable activity that comes naturally to all of us (or should, at least).

The problem is not that they consider me a bad writer.  It’s just that the offensive S-E-X is all they can see from the very beginning, and that’s as far as they can see.  As if that was the only thing in the bloody book.
And I take offense to this.

Most authors work pretty damn hard on their products.  A good book has more than one appealing aspect to it, and to deny yourself that pleasure while reading is not only unfair to the author but to you, the reader.
Emma Holly, for example, probably writes some of the hottest sex scenes in the business.  But if you really READ her books, you’ll find an author with a palatable love of words that strums through her prose.
Nora Roberts can knock out a romance like nobody else, but she can also turn a mean mystery and easy dialogue.

These are just a couple of examples.  A good writer has more than one thing to offer with their storytelling—description, characterization, plot development, etc.  And if the S-E-X is all you’re seeing, maybe you’re short-changing yourself—and the author.

Gotta run.  My soapbox and I have work to do in Washington, D.C…

Can you name three to five of your all time favorite paperback heroes?

Here are mine in no particular order:

(more…)

There’s nothing like great dialogue. It’s memorable and sticks with you long after many other details of the book, movie, or tv episode have faded to blurry recall. 

Here’s some of my favourite exchanges.

From the movie Goldfinger:

Jame Bond: Do you expect me to talk?
Goldfinger: Why no, Mr. Bond, I expect you to die.

From Firefly:

Mal: Don’t hurt him. Just scare him.
Jane: Pain is scary.

From Die Hard:

Hans Gruber: Do you really think you have a chance against us, Mr. Cowboy?
John McClane: Yippee-ki-yay, m*therf*cker.

Some of the best stuff is from the older movies.

From The Thin Man:

Reporter: Say listen, is he working on a case?
Nora Charles: Yes, he is.
Reporter: What case?
Nora Charles: A case of scotch. Pitch in and help him.

From Gentlemen Prefer Blondes:

Esmond Sr.: Have you got the nerve to tell me you don’t want to marry my son for his money?
Lorelei Lee: It’s true.
Esmond Sr.: Then what do you want to marry him for?
Lorelei Lee: I want to marry him for YOUR money.

And this is from a current a wip of mine. In this scene, Winston has just met Raine at a bar:

Winston: “Uh-oh. She’s thinking. She’s thinking, ‘but he’s a stranger’.” His voice was low and softly mocking. “But just think, I won’t be a stranger tomorrow morning.”
Raine: “No. You’ll just be a memory.”
Winston:“Oooo.” He grimaced. “I’ll need a drink to recover from that one. What are you having?” He signaled to the bartender.
Raine: “Am I recovering from something too?”
Winston: “My devastating charm?”
Raine:“I’ll have a ginger ale.”

So how about you guys? Post some of your favourite dialogue exchange–tv, books, movies– in the comments.

So I am messing w/ my kid, helping him find a website on his computer (he only has half day which means I am only half sane all day long–the little sh, er, ah sprite never shuts up!) and then I park my butt at my computer. I am trying to decide what to have for lunch, I have been thinking about the book signing I am doing this weekend with Melissa Schroeder, Michelle, Ames and Shayla Black–planning what to wear, as you know that’s key!–and WHAMO–it hit’s me, dipshit you forgot to blog at SFC.

So I am frantically trying to get to the website–if you don’t know me, I tend to freak out over little things quite easily!–and of course the damn internet has slow as dial-up crawl and won’t turn over. I … am …. cursing a blue-streak (out of ear-shot of kiddo)

So . . . . how’ve ya been? Whatcha been up to? Cause, you know. I’ve got nuttin’! Brain dead. Been farting around all morning THINKing about what I could be writing. THINKing about what I could edit. Sending out e-mails for the signing and dreading a meeting I have later today for a conference I am doing for a different writing group and I . . .  GOT  . . . NOTHING.

Most days I am a smart ass, have a comeback when need be, bite my tongue when dealing with a lot of things, but when down to the wire, my thoughts fizzle and go frizzy like my hair on a rainy day.

It hasn’t helped, I have been thinking on the writing process a lot. Oddly enough several of the RITA books I am reading deal w/ writers on one level or another and it has been on my mind alot. I talked w/ a gal at a bar the other night about writing. Two people she knows have written books–one self published theirs and the other is looking for a publisher. Her awe in my knowledge or lack there of gave me a little spark. Then her going on (and on) about how cool it was to have done something like that, and how big and accomplishment it was gave me a huge reminder of why I enjoy writing. Not everyone can do it. Not everyone can start and finish a book. And I did. (and I can/will do it again, shhhh Ames, I will I swear!)

It is still pretty damn cool to be a writer. To create a world and have folks live it that world. Maybe at the end of the day I am not a total numbskull after al . . . . .