“Mannie Manly sucked the last of the snake’s venom out of his hand amidst the unrelenting hail of bullets and spat it into the nearby quicksand. Retrieving his switchblade from his back pocket, he executed a tumbling somersault over the low-lying barbed wire and landed in the next foxhole.
‘Ha!’ He shouted taunts at his enemies as he proceeded to carve a bullet from his bleeding bicep. ‘Eat spoiled spam and eggs, you guys!’
With a wrenching turn of his knife, he flicked the offending bullet away—just as he felt the cold kiss of a pistol at the back of his head.
Gosh darn it,’ he muttered, closing his eyes. ‘I guess it’s Yahtzee for me, huh?’”
Doesn’t work, does it? (That is, unless you’re writing a comedy or parody, or Manly is a black-ops chaplain).
It doesn’t work because it’s not true to the character.
This past Tuesday marked an historic occasion. The United States elected its first African American president. This represents a huge sea change for our country. Some doubted it would ever happen, but here we are and it’s now a reality.
So what, pray tell does that have to do with fiction writing?
I wrote this post a couple of weeks ago, and since then related discussions have popped up all over, most notable the comment threads of two reviews (m/m/m and m/m/f) at Dear Author.
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Do you believe in the HEA in ménage romances?On the Amazon romance forum, the question was asked: Why are threesomes considered romances? A lot of peeps who posted don’t believe that they are. I didn’t post, but it made me think. I accept ménage romances for what they are: Fantasy.
Even though I know that peep in real life can and do make open and/or polygamous relationships work. Yet, I can’t help thinking that it’s so much work, really to make a one on one relationship work, much less to have another partner permanently added to the mix. Human nature being what it is, all those (supposed) sexual hi-jinks also come with jealousy, feelings on inadequacy, competitiveness, inevitable comparisons, and a heightened awareness/need of always being ‘fair’, etc.
Even when this point was made (which I agree with):
I would think, for such a relationship to work, it would have to be about all three of the individuals, about their feelings for one another — in the m/f/m, IMO, it would have to be about her feelings for the two men, the two men’s feeling for the woman, and the two men’s feeling for each other.
I still don’t totally believe in the 3some HEAs, because the majority of ménage books tend to put the focus on the sex, and particularly on the more boundary pushing elements of them.
I think it really doesn’t fit into my parameters of the ideal romantic relationship (whatever that is). If I look too closely at it—the way the question made me do—I don’t buy it completely. And like someone complain, sometimes it seem like the third person gets thrown into the mix purely for the titillation factor.
But if I step back, and I’m just going along with the flow of the story, sure, werewolves, vampires, ménages, bring it on.
It’s November which means Nano month. I have heard editors dread this time of the year because of the influx of submissions they get shortly there after. But I figure, what ever kicks you in the butt and gets you motivated, then go for it.
It’s another tool in a writers arsenal. Even if you don’t finish by the end of November, if it gets you on the right track or being productive when otherwise Spider Solitaire may call you, then rock out!
As luck would have it, I saw SEVERAL of my fav movies over the weekend–like the stars were lined up just for me. These are movies I probably know by heart and the kids roll their eyes when they know that they are on, “You’re watching that AGAIN?!?”
“Well yeah.”
What does that have to do with writing? They make my heart pitter-patter and I want to create a hero just like that or a scene with that much passion or even the bi*atch that is just as bi*atchy. And some that I just get sucked into time and again. (and they are Speed, Center Stage, Soul Survivors, What a Girl Wants, and lest we forget Friday night was the Live Ghost Hunters special. I will watch these EVERY time I find them on tv).
Back to Nano: I have been inspired the way I needed. I have a story that deserves telling and I wrote Saturday and Sunday–WOOHOO. I will get back to it today once the house settles down. Thank goodness for the Alphasmart. I can plug along where I need to! WRITE ON!
MELISSA BLUE is a frequent visitor here at the Chicas site, and one of our favorite people. So it is with a great deal of pleasure that we announce the release of her latest novel, SEE MEGAN RUN, from the Wild Rose Press, and turn the blog over to her today.
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THE THORNY RELATIONSHIP
Mothers and daughters have a relationship that only mothers and daughters can understand. These relationships are nothing like their counterparts—father/daughter or the mother/son relationships. I’ve yet to meet a woman who didn’t have issues with their mothers.(Some who still do for that matter) Or worse have started their own rocky road with their daughters. * If this is a subject you’d rather not read just skip to the links at the bottom of this post. *
Now I’ll be the first to admit I wasn’t the ideal daughter. (It’s rude to snort that loudly. And, yes, I know it’s not much of a surprise.) Trust me, it doesn’t take my mother much goading to spill the stories of those moments in my life where I was pumped up on pheromones and slightly insane. Her favorite story is the time I flicked a tear at her. Yes, you’ve read that right. I once flicked a tear at my mother. I’m not even sure how I did it or why I did it. Seriously, I blame that temporary insanity on hormones.
So, before I embarked on writing See Megan Run I knew that thorny relationship very well. I had even written about it prior in an unsold women’s fiction novel. There is something so elemental about this relationship I HAD to write about it again. Yet this time I wanted to write it from a humorous point of view, and just because I’m mean, I kept the mother alive this time.
Yes, breathing.
I wanted my heroine not only have to deal with her mother, but to live with her. * Just a show of hands, who wouldn’t do this for a million dollars? * This mother would not have been June Cleaver in her hey day. I wanted a past between these two women that would be fraught with tension and conflict. You know, like most mother and daughter relationships.
Megan Hazley frowned at the dirt driveway leading to the home she had sworn to never step foot in again and then said into her cell phone, “Think wire hangers and you’ll get a sense of the woman who birthed me.”
Even after a million revisions of this first paragraph, the wire hanger reference stayed. Isn’t that a mother’s worse nightmare? Nine out of ten mothers would winced if ever called Mommie Dearest.
I digress.
By this point I pretty much knew Megan would want to kill me. I think I’ve pointed out I’m cruel. * Come on. I didn’t kill the mother off. * I threw in a monkey wrench most women come up against once they’ve grown up—I made Megan start to like her mother.
I had to cross this bridge myself. I was about to have my second child. I was leaning on my mother more than usual for moral support and the like. Then a light bulb hit me in the head—it isn’t easy being a mother. Sometimes you can really screw up and just hope your child doesn’t need too many years in therapy. I was pregnant at the time, so I probably cried when the moment hit me.
Megan, well, she deals with it her way. And I know if she existed she’d still come at me with a two-by four. *Really, I kept her mother breathing. *
With a show of hands, who knows this thorny relationship?
What’s your idea of a scathing review? Well, I guarantee you haven’t seen nothing until you’ve read this one…
Some time ago, a reviewer wrote the following about a bestselling author’s Rita award-winning book:
“[The author’s] latest detective novel … is abusive garbage. If [she] weren’t a woman, she would be accused justifiably of misogyny, and the world would be a better place if she had stuck to her medical practice…[She’s] the only author I have read in 40 years who makes me want to slap her…In the wake of the World Trade Center attacks, there has been some discussion about the entertainment industry reevaluating what is appropriate entertainment … Let’s hope that the New York publishing industry takes part in that discussion. Meanwhile, [the author] lives in Camden. If you see her, tell her you’re not going to read this book, and tell her to donate her royalties to a rape crisis center.”
WOW. I mean, WOW.
Hating a book is fine, but attacking the author crosses the line. Tact sprinkled with a generous amount of discretion goes a long way. This review had neither. I think, out of all the reviews I’ve read, this one is the all-time worst. Whether you’re published or not, what’s the worst review/critique you’ve ever received? NO NAMES PLEASE. Did your reviewer/criticizer stick to the issues (the story)? Or did they cross the line? How did you cope with the negativity?
If you haven’t already guessed, the author who received the aforementioned notorious review has the following initials: TG
The Chicas asked me to drop by. I was going to write up a whole blog post about my new supernatural thriller, RED. It’s a near-future, post apocalyptic twist on the Little Red Riding Hood fairytale. The idea behind the story came from one question: What if Little Red Riding Hood and the Big, Bad Wolf turned out to be the same person. In the end, I decided it would be best to let Red talk for herself.
Without further adieu, I’d like to welcome Gina ‘Red’ Santiago.
“I don’t have all day, so let’s get to it.”
Of course, I know you’re a busy woman, what with running the town of Nuria and all.
“Are you going to ask me any questions?”
What is it like being on a tactical team?
“Some days are boring. Most days are boring. It’s only when you encounter an Unknown that things perk up. I’ve never had one surrender yet.”
Speaking of which, I heard you got your nickname by pursuing Unknowns. Is that true?
“No, I got my nickname from shooting Unknowns. Get your facts straight.”
That’s a big gun you have.
“Yeah, it’s great for blowing big holes into people.”
Gulp.
“It’s a laser pistol. The wound cauterizes as it’s removing your heart from your chest. Want to see?”
No, no, I’m good. Um, how did you meet Sheriff Morgan Hunter?
“The usual way. On the job. I was investigating a murder not far from his town. One thing led to another.”
He’s hot. Don’t narrow your eyes at me. It’s true.
“If you know what’s good for you, you will keep your paws off him.”
Sure, anything you say. No need to point the pistol at me. Is there anything else you’d like to say to the readers?
“Buy the book–or I’ll hunt them down and rip their entrails out.”
I’m sure that will encourage them. Okay then, thank you very much for your time.
Sorry everyone, but Red’s a woman of few words. If you have any questions about the book, fire away and I’ll try to answer them.
Seems like I am always waiting for something. I am waiting for the kids to go to school for quiet, waiting for the weekend so the dh can deal with the kids. Waiting for the movie to end, ’cause I need to watch the WHOLE thing for inspiraition. Waiting to finish this book to work on the next.
Well, let me tell ya… quiet or no, stuff still finds a way to wiggle in and draw you away. Weekend or no the kids will bypass dad to get to you to ask for the 50th time if they can have a snack. Whole movie or no, there’s always another one on (then another, and another…). When you don’t work on either does it really matter which one you intended to finish first?
You just have to DO IT.
It’s trite. It’s simplistic. But it’s the truth.
I won’t say that I have a “gift” for writing. But I do have a passion for it and it seems like a waste not to indulge, explore, hell even exploit this passion for all it’s worth. I have tried to pull back–believe it or not. I don’t know that I ever said aloud, I will not write anymore. But in my heart, I have played my own little self-pity game of, “ooh, you suck; don’t kid yourslef.” Give it a day and I totally buy into that. Give it three and I am scribbling notes on the corners of napkins, gum wrappers and going so far as to spell out words to the 7-y-o that in his 1st grade scawl run together he hopefully can’t piece together: doitinthebackofaminivan.
Sure, I can come up with an excuse not to write. And I have heard everything you could possible think of–trust me on this, I have MANY writer friends. But I can’t not write any more than not breath–again, trite, but true.
The voices don’t go away because you park your lazy ass in front of Lifetime or vacuum the living room for the third time in a week. The yearning to tell Character X’s story doesn’t go away just becuase you have a “day job” or sick kiddo at home. The voices only go away when they don’t have anything to say anymore and that freightens me more than picturing the H/H doing the nasty while sitting through another PTA meeting hearing about school t-shirts.
Just Do It!
BICHOK = But In Chair Hands On Keys. I need this tattooed on my remote control, phone answering, mini-candy-bar-popping (GAW Halloween sucks) hand.
So right now, I am waiting for Nano to start next week….
Update ~
AND I was waiting for the SP wbesite to post my new cover so I could share it … and it’s out now…WOOHOO!
Julie is a good friend, one of my first crit partners and a very talented writer. Today she joins us to talk about her latest release CLOSE ENCOUNTERS, a collaboration with one of her childhood friends, current crit partner, and fellow writer Kathy Love.
What’s more, Julie is giving one lucky commentor a free copy of Close Encounters! So don’t be shy, de-lurk and say Hi.
Edited to add: BH Dark has picked a winner! Dee, Julie will get in touch with you (or vice versa) so see what format you prefer. Congratulations to you Dee , Thank you to everyone who participated and WTG, Julie and Kathy on your debut with Samhain!
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Weird Questions, by B. H. DarkI’ve been a writer for a little while now and while it’s still the best job in the universe, I sort of forget how generally weird it is.For example, this afternoon I went to a kid’s birthday party and was standing around with the other moms, talking.“What did you do this morning?” one of them asked, and everyone else answered stuff like, oh, we went to the park, or the library, or shopping.I said, “I waited until my kid took a nap and then I wrote a sex scene.Oh, but in the middle of it I had to call this cemetery to ask if the crypts would collapse if people got up on top of them.”
Fortunately my friends are used to this sort of thing from me, but it does tend to remind me that other people just don’t have to think this way.For example, I’m pretty sure normal people don’t sit around wondering what would happen if you were abducted by aliens, pumped full of pheremones, and forced to have sex with a total stranger against the wall of a blue tube.Like…what would you talk about with this person, afterwards?The weather?
Here’s a little excerpt from our book CLOSE ENCOUNTERS, out tomorrow, which examines this very question:
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“Are you in pain?” Beau asked.
“I’m fine.”Cassandra’s voice trembled.
“I’m so sorry.I don’t usually grab total strangers and have sex with them against a wall of a blue tube.Especially if–”He tried to think of a tactful way to say it, but he couldn’t.“You were a virgin, weren’t you?”He winced at his own words.
In answer she peered around the room.“How do you think we get out of here?”
“Damn!”He slammed his fist against the outside of the blue tube.“Cassie, I am so sorry.”
“Stop apologizing!”From her expression, the loudness of her voice startled her, too.
He didn’t say it.But he thought it.This was all his fault.
Okay, there was no way he could have known she was a virgin, what with the hot kissing and her hands all over him.She was beautiful and passionate and horny, and those attributes didn’t scream “Beware!Virgin Alert!” in his head.
But he’d felt the barrier, the tearing, and he hadn’t stopped.Or not for more than a split second, and then he’d been pumping away at her like a horny hound dog.No finesse, no tenderness.Only lust.
“Are you–you’re not engaged or anything, are you?” he asked.There.That wasn’t an apology.
“Do I look like an engaged person?”
“No.”She looked adorable, and confused, and upset, and too small for his leather jacket.But she didn’t look engaged.
“Well, then.”
“You’re not like in training to be a nun, though, right?”
She glared at him. “I’m a Unitarian.”
***
What’s the weirdest question your life, writing or otherwise, has led you to ask, lately?
is a two for one special! On Monday we’ll have BH Dark (the writing team of Julie Cohen and Kathy Love) And on our regular Wednesday we’ve got Jordan Summers. I’ll let Jaq tell you about BH and I’m going to talk about Jordan Summers and her upcoming release, RED (on sale Nov 4)
I’ve known Jordan probably almost as long as I’ve been blogging. Not only is she funny and smart and cute and cool, she is, without a doubt, one of the most genuinely nice people I’ve ever met, so I’m really excited she’s going to introduce us to Red on Wednesday–who is not near as nice as her creator *looks around* :lmao:
RED is a futuristic paranormal romance set in an ecologically desolate 2160. Gina “Red” Santiago, the lone woman in the elite international tactical team commanded by the grandfather who raised her, travels off-duty to Nuria in the Republic of Arizona to investigate a woman’s mysterious, brutal death. Gina doesn’t believe in the rumors of supersoldiers, vampires and werewolves created by a secret government genetic engineering project, until she learns that almost everyone in Nuria is a werewolf and finds herself powerfully attracted to lycanthrope sheriff Morgan Hunter even as she connects others in his pack to the murder investigation.
