I Was A Freelance Manuscript Reader

Thea Devine here, with a true confession:  Long ago in a publishing landscape far away (and over the course of the next twenty-five years),  I read manuscripts for several mass market publishing houses, back before electronic transmissions, back when we were writing 500 pp. books on real paper.

I read historical and contemporary romance, romantic suspense, women’s fiction, mysteries, sagas, fiction for reprint, and non-fiction, agented and slush.  And I assure you every proposal was looked at, no matter what form it arrived in — single spaced, cursive font, unchaptered, block paragraphs, handwritten, buried in popcorn. strangled in rubber bands.

And there were always manuscripts;  just the number of conferences across the country on a weekly basis assured that.  But after National — the deluge.

During those years, I never had an editor tell me what to look for, what they didn’t want to see.  Nothing was culled before it landed on the reader’s shelf.

But really — it was always about the story.  Those grab and go opening pages still grab editors..  And they really do know it when they see it..

But what the editor told me when she hired me was, don’t be afraid to be wrong.

Think about that.   Don’t be afraid to be wrong.  Because what if you passed up another Gone With The Wind or DaVInci Code?  What if the manuscript you loved was shot down and rejected by the editor and then became a best-seller for another publisher? (It happened).  What  if … in the fragile world of publishing as it was then, and is now, so dependent on the subjective opinion of reader and editor.

Don’t be afraid of rejection.  Because the editor could be wrong.  And if the editor could be wrong, then a rejection doesn’t t mean you wrote the worst book ever.  It just means this book didn’t move the editor or it didn’t fit into a particular marketing slot.

That still holds true.  The market itself will judge a book, in this new publishing milieu, if not an editor in a publishing house.   All you can do is write.

Some writing secrets from the reader:

It’s the story. It’s always been the story.  It’s how you get into the story.  Get your characters moving.  Make sure the inciting incident is critical, grabs the reader, and requires your characters to do something.

Conflict.   Your protagonists can’t want the same things (his family stole her family’s business;  she wants to get it back; he wants to give it back), even though they can want the same thing (an object of desire — like the Grail in Indy 3).

Pile it on.  The more obstructions, obstacles and problems you present your protagonists, the harder it will be for an editor — or reader — to put your manuscript down.

Grammar counts.  Sorry.  No dangling participles.  Subject and verb must agree.  A line edit takes forever on a manuscript that needs a lot of work.

Motivation.  Why exactly did your heroine go into the burning mine when everyone specifically cautioned her not to?  There are always reasons why your characters do what they do. Make sure your reader buys into it.

Make sure the ending holds up after all the build up.

Have you ever been rejected?  How did you handle it?  Do you think a publisher using readers is a good thing or bad?

What a Difference a Year Makes…

A year ago today I sat down to write my very first blog post. Wow that year has gone by fast. This year I celebrated my fifth year as a teacher. My fifth year being out on my own. My fifth year out of college. And I’m inching one year closer to my thirtieth birthday. (Yikes)

As for my family ,this year one of my brothers turned twenty -one, while another is sneaking up on the big one-eight and college is looming in his near future. This year will mark my parents’ thirty-fifth wedding anniversary. The loss of my first childhood pet and arrival of a new puppy to take her place.

And my Scribes family has had a big year too. Katy and Casey have seen their babies published. REAL VIRTUE and MYSTIC INK are out and getting rave reviews from fans.

PJ is selling books all over the place, even appearing on the Amazon Bestseller list.

Susannah is polishing up her books and getting requests from editors and agents at conferences.

J Monkeys is churning out chapter and picture books alike to the delight of children of all ages.

As for me I finally got an agent and the other day my first phone call from an editor. No, I did not get a contract but I got valuable advice of how to make my book shine. Onward!

A year ago none of us were in the same place we were before and that’s a good thing because it means we are growing and hopefully one day we will all be in the place we only thought was possible in our dreams.

So what does this all mean for us? We’ve just got to work harder. Make new goals and do our best to become better writers.

For those of you who are new to us or just a little curious about where my mind was a year ago. This was my very first blog post…

Coming Out of the Writer’s Closet.

Okay, if this was my closet I might never come out of it.

Hello. My name is Jamie Pope and I write… Get ready for it…. Ready? I write romance novels. Phew! There I said. Step one. Check. What a load off my back. Almost no one knows that I write. It is-was- my well kept little secret, the thing I did alone in my room under the cover of night. And the reason that I kept it a secret  for so long was fear of one little question: What do you write? I love romance novels, they are somewhat of an obession for me. I discovered them when I was sixteen and looking for a way to escape my mundane teenage life.  Since then I have read hundreds upon hundreds of them. I can tell a good one from a bad one. I can tell when a writer loves their work or is just phoning it in. I can recite the format blindfolded with my hands tied behind my back and plugs in my ears. So with all of that ,why should I be afraid of a single little question? Here’s the answer: Inside all of us is a self conscious thirteen year old little girl. Remember her? The girl who thinks everybody is looking at her. The one who is having a miserable day because she can’t get her hair right . The one who thinks everybody is judging her. That’s me. I feared that by telling the world I wrote romance novels no one would take me seriously as a writer. I even imagined some jaded people rolling their eyes, immediately dismissing what I do because they think only Harper Lee or John Steinbeck can write a great novel. Taking that into account,I thought I might say that I wrote Women’s fiction. I am a woman.(Hear me roar!) Half the world is made up of women. Besides, women’s fiction sounded so serious and I am serious, very much so, about my writing. But then that label didn’t work for me either. My writing is funny or at least I hope it is, so I thought maybe Chick Lit would fit. But I immediately disregarded that because something about that phrase annoys me. Nobody calls any form of writing Dude Lit. So back to romance it is because I write about strong women, and hot men. Because I write happily ever afters. Because I write steamy love scenes. Because I write about the kind of love lives most women wished they had. Because I belong to the RWA and CTRWA. Because I am in great company with Nora Roberts and Susan Elizabeth Phillips and Rachel Gibson and thousands of other unpublished hopefuls. Phew! There I said it. My name is Jamie Pope and I proudly write romance novels.

Your turn to share! How has your life changed in the past year?

Set Sail with Jennifer Fromke on A Familiar Shore

Happy Memorial Day Weekend! Katy Lee here with Jennifer Fromke. She’s here to share  about A Familiar Shore, her latest book that just happens to take place around Memorial Day. Did we plan that just right, or what?! I’m excited to hear how Jennifer did her research for this exciting story, so take it away, Jennifer!

Thank you, Katy, for having me on the Scribes! A long time ago, back when I was only thinking about writing, I decided contemporary fiction would be the easier route because there would be no research. Remember, I said it was a long time ago…I was fairly naïve.

Obviously, all writing requires research. This quickly became a stark reality for me. Now I think writing a contemporary story may even require more research, because every reader is living in the same time period and everything must ring true.

So I began the process of researching as I began writing my debut novel. Thank goodness for the internet! My story takes place on and around several boats and the biggest blessing for me as I wrote A Familiar Shore turned out to be my best source of information about boats: my dad.

Growing up in Michigan, it seems like we were always on the water. Most fair weather weekends were spent either boating on the Great Lakes, or water skiing and sailing on one of the smaller lakes. Dad recently even spent one winter living on a boat in Florida. Boating is his hobby and he taught me a lot about them as I grew up. For example, I have an immovable sense about which side is Port and which is Starboard.

One of the main characters in my novel is an octogenarian who lives on an old yacht, travelling along the southeastern seaboard. So I wrote several scenes taking place on the yacht. I can’t count the number of times I emailed Dad asking something like this: “What do you call that thing in the pilot house that the captain uses for . . .” He was so patient with me! He always knew where to send me for further research, photos, etc . . .

Then I wrote an action scene in the novel, which takes place in the middle of a lake on a Hobie Cat. I needed Dad’s help to see what the boat would do in my scenario and how an inexperienced sailor might react. And again, there were several questions about what you call that “thing-y . . .”

While I like to talk to my dad fairly frequently, having this extra excuse was truly a blessing for me. Sometimes my questions would trigger a memory he recounted to me. Sometimes his answer would remind me just how wise and full of knowledge he is. I became extra grateful for a childhood largely punctuated by time on the water and I think this comes out in the novel.

As I write the next novel, which is strangely devoid of boats, I’m missing my “go-to” guy for research. It’s way more fun to talk with somebody I love about what I’m doing than it is to read from the internet all by myself. But I’m plugging away at it. With joy.

Question: Have you written about a topic in which your family or friends are experts?

Jennifer Fromke is a native Michigander, but writes from North Carolina these days. She is a Wheaton College graduate and loves nothing better than a few solitary hours with a great book and a latte.

In her debut novel, A Familiar Shore, we meet Meg Marks, a young lawyer raised off the coast of the Carolinas. An anonymous client hires her to arrange his will, and sends her to meet his estranged family at their lake home in northern Michigan. After a shocking discovery, she finds herself caught between his suspicious family and a deathbed promise her conscience demands that she keep. Will she sacrifice her own dreams for revenge, or will she choose something more?

A Familiar Shore is available on Amazon and Barnes and Noble.

Great to have you, Jennifer, on the Scribes! I hope you will come back again.

Readers: A Familiar Shore is an exciting story! And what better way to spend Memorial day on the lake in a boat! Ahhhhh! It’s just one click away, and you can be there, too!

R.C. Bonitz – A Blanket for Her Heart

Happy Friday everyone! Casey Wyatt here. Please welcome our guest today, romance author R.C. Bonitz! To see R.C.’s response to our interview questions – click here. RC is here to tell us about his new novel and free giveway. Stay tuned until the end for more details!

Take it away, R.C.!

Thank you for hosting me today Casey. It’s a pleasure to be on Seven Scribes.  This post is mostly about a free giveaway, but you might find my comments on other author’s books interesting.

I took a walk recently on a very bright and sunny day. Global warming has been filling the skies with clouds lately, but the sun looked really good. And since we had rain not too long before that everything was a brilliant Springtime green. Wonderful. But, enough about the beautiful day. I’ve got a bit of news about my books and a few others.

I’ve been very busy editing my new book (number three — A Little Bit of Baby) and writing a new one and promoting the two that are out there already, so taking a break for the sunshine was really great. Despite all that I’ve had the time to read three books on my Kindle. Some of you may know the work of Kristan Higgins? Laura Moore? Natale Stanzel?

I’ve read most of Kristan Higgins books and loved them all. But I think she’s outdone herself with the latest — Somebody To Love. Parker Wells stuck with me from an earlier book even though she was a minor character in that one. This time she’s the star of the show, and a very humble one at that. Kristan’s humor cracks me up, but in the end this is a book that pulls at your heartstrings. Can’t wait for the next one.

Another writer I’m hooked on now is Laura Moore, author of the Rosewood series. Her book, Believe In Me, the second in the series, was the first of hers I’ve read, but I’ll be back for more. The Radcliffe sisters and their clan are the kind of cozy family you just wish you were a part of. And when Jordan meets Owen her world warms up considerably. (After it falls apart a bit.) Like Kristan’s book, Believe In Me warms your heart as well.

My third recent read was Pandora’s Box by Natale Stenzel. I had never heard of Natale until we connected on Linkedin. Liking romantic comedy, I thought I’d try her book, then discovered I was reading paranormal romantic comedy. Now there’s an interesting genre combination- and Natale pulls it off very well. Once I started reading I couldn’t put it down. Mina was a great heroine and I was ready to pop the Puca upside the head a few times, especially when it looked like Teague was in trouble, but with a few surprise twists the end was very satisfying.

Okay, I said I had some news about my own books. Here you go. I will be doing a free giveaway of A Blanket for Her Heart. It’s about Anne Hoskins, who is suddenly faced with a decision that can change her life completely. Choose to hide, or give wings to her life? Which way will she go? Check out Amazon May 24 and 25 to get yourself a FREE read. I haven’t gotten any formal reviews yet, but folks are going out of their way to tell me they enjoyed it. Take a look at the excerpt below and have fun. I hope you like it too. Cheers RC

A BLANKET FOR HER HEART- EXCERPT

~ ONE ~

 First light formed leaf shadows on the cabinets as she entered the kitchen. Those big trees had been there for years, but they were old now, tall and thinned out, blocking less of the early morning sun. Winter sometimes seemed better, on sunny days when bright rays slid through barren branches to flood the breakfast table. Not always though. Not when winter’s cold was dark and penetrating.

Bright and sunny, just comfortable, the day was starting well. She’d been up since three, reading and pacing, waiting for the light so she could start her day outside. Early was a pattern lately, into bed and out of it, bored to numbness when sleep was so elusive.

Her friend Molly thought it was time to see a doctor, but there was nothing a professional could say she didn’t know already. Physically her health was perfect.

“I need a new bed, that’s all,” she told her friend. “Besides, I’m always thinking of what I’m going to do in the morning.”

“What’s so important?” Molly asked, and she offered the usual list of things.

That was what she did, things. This thing, that thing, nothing. Tend her garden, read Jane Austen or some travel book; wash the dishes, paint, or whatever. Granted, her paintings were beautiful and she did so many one always sat unfinished on the easel, but she hadn’t sold any. Furniture restorations brought in some income, but she usually didn’t do that many pieces.

Fifty-four years old and not counting, she lived like a hermit with few friends. She did know one neighbor, but she’d never married, and had always lived alone. Molly often told her she’d be happier if she did more with her life and she struggled with such thoughts these days.

She turned on the TV, hoping the movie channel might have something good.

Sly Stallone in his first Rambo. So stimulating. Thought provoking. Annoyed but too bored to care, she settled back in the sofa and within minutes the images barely touched her mind. By seven-thirty, she’d had enough and punched the off button with the remains of her wrist. Dry cereal and milk, half an orange, and coffee for breakfast; she dumped the dirty dishes in the sink twenty minutes later and abandoned the kitchen.

The patio garden looked like an impressionist’s palette. Her one green thumb coaxed flowers to brilliant life year round. Indoors in winter of course, but she had plants ready to bloom as spring temperatures began. Each morning she spent two hours weeding and pruning, winding her fingers through the dirt to carefully arrange it to her whim. The stump of her left arm served as well as her right hand, caressing dirt and flowers with the same gentle touch. It was a touch returned by the earth, giving her the best hours of each day in quiet occupation of her mind. She put a dozen pansies in a juice glass and remembered she hadn’t thanked Molly for picking up the flats this year.

After gardening, she returned rake and hoe to the garage and cleaned up at the slop sink in the corner. She wiped black dirt from her knees and delivered a good scrubbing to the right hand. A brush screwed to the wall just above the sink did the job. Small stitch scars in her stump got an easy wipe. The skin was smooth and quite soft for all the abuse it got. Both hand and stump got a dose of hand cream, spread liberally, but only lightly rubbed. A wipe with the old towel she kept handy finished the job.

Lunch was the usual. Peanut butter and grape jam on white, red wine, and a handful of Lorna Doones. Sometimes it was cream cheese instead of peanut butter, chocolate chips instead of Lorna Doones, but that was about it as far as variety went. She took two glasses of merlot this time instead of one. That was not unusual lately.

Afterwards, she wrapped a dishtowel around the left arm and secured it with two rubber bands to wash the dishes.

“You’d be amazed what I can buy through the mail now, Hannah. Rubber bands, seeds, books, clothes, all sorts of things. You’d probably be selling things on a website these days yourself.” She wiped the breakfast bowl with the left arm towel and set it on the drying rack. “Not like me though. I hate that ridiculous computer. Molly talked me into buying one, but I can barely turn it on right.

“I’m having trouble with that painting I’ve been working on too. It looks so bland, not even that maybe, so much as gray and dismal. I should probably trash the thing. You know what? I think I’m going to catch a little sun this afternoon.”

It was one sided, this conversation with her dead grandmother, but quite all right. She knew it was imaginary, though sometimes it almost seemed she got an answer.

Her father got an occasional remark as well, but little more. It was Hannah she talked to, Hannah she often wished were truly at her side. Their chats had served to keep her company, at least until now. There was no one else to talk to most of the time.

Except Molly, or Grace, when one of them came around. Which didn’t seem to be that often lately. The house was still too, her world so very silent these last few months.

Dishes washed, towel removed, she headed for the bathroom, stripping off her pink tee shirt as she went. She dropped it in the hamper, brushed her teeth and hair, and relieved herself quickly. Then it was out to the patio, where she pulled one white lounge chair into place and stretched out to take the sun on her back. She’d heard all the cancer warnings, but never did the sun thing very long. Besides, everyone needed some vices in their life.

Face down on the lounge, wearing only shorts, she was drifting into sleep when something made a sound behind her. She turned. A man smiled weakly, then stared, eyes wide, as she dashed for the house.

“Please. I need help,” he called as she slammed the door in his face.

 Get a copy of A BLANKET FOR HER HEART  free MAY 24 AND 25 at

AMAZON    

Thanks for being our guest today R.C!

What books have you read recently that you really enjoyed? If you have questions, for R.C., don’t be shy – ask away!

How Do You Handle Bad News?

NOTICE: This is a true story that took place very recently. If you are sensitive to slighty yucky but natural things I suggest you do not read on.

I hate delivering bad news. In fact I dread it. Though in my line of work it is a necessary evil. As a special education teacher I find myself in contact with parents more than most teachers. Like daily. This week alone I had to call a parent to tell them that their child proceeded to color his teeth black with a magic marker when he was out of my line of vision. But most of my phone calls are little things. Like little Johnny is eating toilet paper and glue sticks and has a real fondness for chalk. Or Mikey has taken to looking up all the adults skirts. Or Becky is eating her boogers. A lot. Like so much I’m wondering how she has a nose left. Even though my babies are special most of what they do is not outside of the normal kid realm.

But there is one thing I hate telling parents. Like hate-hate. Like stay up at night wondering how I’m going to break the news. You think I would be a pro at it by now. Kids typical and special alike do it.  And I see more of it than one would expect teaching second grade.

“Excuse me, Mrs. Doe? Would you mind coming inside for a few minutes,” I ask a parent during dismissal.

The poor woman gives me the look. The what now look, that I see from every parent when I ask to speak to them in private. I know she isn’t going to want to hear what I have to say and trust me I don’t want to be the one to have to tell her. But one must soldier on in these cases.

“Your son is…. Um…” My ears start to burn.

Mrs. Doe looks at me with sympathy.  ”What is it? Trust me. Almost nothing you can say would shock me at this point.”

“Your son has found his willy wacker.” (For the record I did say the real word but so low the woman couldn’t hear me.)

“Excuse me?”

“His thing.” My ears are on fire at this point. ”He’s found his thing. And has taken to whipping it out at every opportunity. I guess the good news is that he doesn’t know what to do with it so he kind of just swats at it. But my point is that he CANNOT do that in school.”

The mother sighs, only, slightly mortified. “I was hoping he was only doing that at home.”

“Nope. He’s sharing his love with everybody.”

“How long can I expect this phase to last?”

“He’s a man, Mrs. Doe. It will probably be for the rest of his life.”

Thankfully she laughs and wraps her arm around me. “Thanks for telling me. Now how do we fix this?”

That problem I actually know how to fix. I have a file on my computer filled with information about this along with a bunch of other files most teachers wouldn’t dream of having.Like a nose picking file. And how to potty train children over five file. And a body odor file. But I digress. For me the only way to deliver unpleasant news is to plow through it.

On the reverse side I take in good and bad news the same way. I barely react at all. My poor parents have been disappointed many birthdays and Christmas Mornings. Because I barely reacted to my awesome presents at all. Although a child once surprised me with a plate of brownies and my face lit up like a the Fourth of July. (Go figure.)

So what about you? How do you deliver bad news. How do you receive it? Are you a reactive person. Are you easily surprised?

How I Got My Agent….

I finally got an agent! Hip hip hooray, YES!, YAY! and every other happy word I can think of. But let me tell you this process was not an easy one. It took years.

Me jumping for joy!

I started writing in 2007, my senior year of college. From the beginning I wrote romance. I blame Susan Elizabeth Phillips’ THIS HEART of MINE, which was the first contemporary romance I had ever read. (Till this day I still have a soft spot for Kevin and Molly.) And Jennifer Crusie whose BET ME introduced me to Minerva and Cal and was the only book I’ve ever read twice in a row. You know when a book is good when you still remember the characters names years after putting it down.

As a writer I knew I wanted to accomplish that. I had to accomplish that. I’m the kind of person that once she decides she is going to be good at something doesn’t stop till she gets there. So I wrote BY HAND, (gasp) for years. Full novels in notebooks while I read every romance novel I could get my hands on. This was my training period. I had no clue what the RWA was or that local writing groups existed. All I knew was that I wanted to write. And so I did, like a job, I wrote everyday, getting a little better.

In 2008 I completed( typed) my first novel and sent it out to about a dozen agents. In the back of my mind I knew it wasn’t ready. It was too long. The plot was a little all over the place and the genre wasn’t clearly defined. I didn’t know that then though. I didn’t know much except that I wanted to be a writer.

A few more embarrassingly bad hand written manuscripts and one semi decent one later I decided to enter a contest. I really wanted feedback. I knew I could write but I didn’t know much about the art of writing. It was then the writing Gods interfered and introduced me to my Fairy Writing Godmother Kristan Higgins who suggested I join a local writers group. From these people I learned about community and what it really feels like to have people truly want the best for you.

I also learned practical things like… I suck at commas.( Thank you, Jane.) And sometimes I am far too wordy. I make my heroes say stuff that most self-respecting men would never say. (Thank you, Christine.) I tend to over complicate my plots. And I use You’re when I mean Your.

They helped me learn from my mistakes, showed me it was okay to have practice manuscripts.(Thank you PJ Sharon.) So when I sat down to write the book that got me my agent I was determined to write a good one.

I know I didn’t write the next great American novel but I wrote a book I could be proud of.  (I promise I’m getting to the good part now. Damn writers and their back story!)

So I sent it out into the world and ended up getting 6 full requests. 3 partial requests and a hell of a lot of rejections. I queried 51 agents since December 16, 2011. I was getting frustrated by the whole process. The funny thing was I never received a rejection on a full manuscript. I actually wanted one of those, just for the feedback alone. Three of those agents had my book for months and each day of silence was making me more and more discouraged.

But then it all happened so quickly. I got a request for a full. Then the next day I got a call from that agent offering me representation. As soon as I hung up with her one of my dream agents requested a full, when I told her I had just been offered representation she asked me not to sign anything until she got the chance to read it. By that time I was ready to barf. Two agents! And if that wasn’t enough my fairy god writing mother was bragging (as all good fairy writing god mother’s should) that I had just received an offer to yet another agent.  That agent asked that I email her. So I sent off my manuscript and the day after that I got another call.

I really and truly fell in agent love with Emmanuelle Morgen. Love LOVE LURVE! The other agents were nice but Emmanuelle rang every bell, told me exactly what I could expect from her and what she would expect from me. She didn’t make me huge promises and was up front with everything. Explaining the history of the agency, who her clients were, what advances were like, what houses were the best for authors. We talked about the future, and long-term goals and that was before she ever offered me representation. I hung up the phone after our forty minute conversation and felt like this woman will do her best to get the best for me.

I’m not the type of person who can have laid back agent. I need someone who is going to be on my tail to help me create the best book I can. And so when Emmanuelle said I needed to get on those edits and cut down my word count by 5- 10k and get it back to her by Friday morning. I busted my ass to do so. By Friday afternoon I had my work with five houses. All of this happened in the span of two weeks.

People who see me wonder why I’m not shaking with excitement.(Well, I barely gotten any sleep these past two weeks) But I am excited and grateful and happy, but I’m also a realist. I know that crap happens, and despite the best of intentions books don’t always make it to publishing. And until I see my book on a shelf I’m going to keep my optimism cautious. And I’ll never stop learning how to be the best writer I can be.

Sooo thank you to all my CTRWA members who have cheered me on. And to my fellow scribes, especially Casey who has seen my book at it’s worst and still encouraged me to finish it. And to Kristan Higgins who has been the best Fairy Writing God Mother a girl could ask for.

Honor Thy Mother

Happy Mother’s Day, Katy Lee here, and in lieu of Mother’s Day, I thought I would share a bit about my heroine’s mom in my Inspirational-Romantic-Suspense, Real Virtue. (FYI-I did post this on Sandra Orchard’s blog last month, sorry if you’ve already read it.)

I’m especially excited to give a little more insight into Arlene Mesini’s character because Arlene was influenced by my own mother. You see, like my mom, Arlene suffers from the horrible brain disease, Schizophrenia. When I set out to write Real Virtue, I did not plan for Arlene to have this disease. Never in my wildest imagination did I think my story would link up with it either, but during my research of online virtual-reality gaming I came across an avatar with this affliction. You see, in Real Virtue, my heroine is a gamer who takes her pastime a little too far. She is living a life that is a bit removed from reality…just like her mother. But in Mel’s case, she has the choice.

It was during my research that I found this video of what a day in the life of a schizophrenic person is like, and in watching this video I knew I had found my heroine’s mother—and the perfect conflict for Mel to face.

A conflict I understood very well.

I’m going to be honest here and say, growing up with someone who has this disease is extremely difficult, and it took me a long time to understand my mother’s pain, but more importantly, to accept her as she is. If I was ever to have a relationship with her, I needed to stop trying to escape from the reality of the situation, (excuse the pun) and get to know her.

And the same goes for Mel.

So, once Arlene was “born,” I knew I had an opportunity to take it one step further and honor my own mom through her. I dedicated Real Virtue to my mom as the strongest person I know. I can only hope Arlene does her justice.

The Unlocked Secret That’s Not Really a Secret: Happy Mother’s Day to all you mom’s out there! Being a mom is the most important thing you will ever do. Take pride in it. You are shaping the world and you ARE making a difference. And remember to honor your own mom today. She, too, made a difference.

Question: So since we’re sharing, tell me something about your mother. But remember, keep it honoring.

Lessons I Learned In The Woods by Becky Wade

Hello, Katy Lee here, along with the wonderful author of My Stubborn Heart. I was blessed to review a copy of this book a few weeks back, and when I finished I immediately invited the author to share the day with us. I’m so excited she said yes! But more than that, like any good storyteller, she came prepared with a story!

So, Becky Wade, take it away! 

Imagine a princess who set off on a journey toward a pink and glittering castle.  She’d fallen in love with the castle through her recurring dreams of it and so she worked for years to reach her destination, overcoming obstacles, honing her navigation skills. 

At last — finally, joyfully — she arrived!  She lived in the castle for a few years, enjoying its splendor.  But on one fateful afternoon, the owners of the castle came for her, politely escorted her across the moat, and raised the drawbridge against her.

Bitterly confused and disappointed at her banishment, the princess settled into a cottage in the village.  A benevolent town Elder gave her a miniature pony as a gift.  The Princess adored the pony, so she decided to pour all her heart and attention into the care and raising of miniature ponies.  She tucked away her dreams of castles.Years passed. 

The town Elder paid her another visit.  He showed the princess a beautiful drawing of a castle constructed entirely of flashing diamonds.  He spun enchanting stories about the place.

Her old hopes stirred.  She wanted, down deep within herself, to see the diamond castle.  But she knew firsthand how perilous and difficult the expedition would be and how disappointing the destination might prove.

The Elder reassured her. He promised to walk beside her and to help her across every mile of their joint quest.  All that He required of her?  To expend the effort the trip would demand.

So, taking her ponies and her frayed courage in hand, the princess set off into the woods behind the Elder in pursuit of a castle of diamonds.

 CAST:

Princess: Me.  (Don’t you love being a writer?  One can give oneself the role of Princess!)

Pink Castle: Publication of historical romance novels for the general market.

Elder: God.

Ponies: My kids.

Diamond Castle: Completion of a manuscript for the Christian market.

 

The above tale is, in a nutshell, how I found my niche in the world of books and publishing.  I first set out on my writing journey eighteen years ago and, as you can see, I took a circuitous route!  Here are a few of the lessons I learned in the woods….

• The first time I chased the dream of publication I took a traveled road.  I studied the craft.  I joined writer’s organizations and local chapters.  I was desperate for someone to read my work, so I enlisted critique partners and entered contests.  I traveled to conferences.  I practiced hard by churning out one manuscript after another.  Lesson #1: The traveled road is one route to publication.
• I never felt right about some of the content in my secular romance novels, yet I managed to rationalize my concerns away.  Well, God Himself eventually stepped in and closed that door firmly.  Lesson #2: If you don’t feel 100% right about some facet of your work and/or have to rationalize away concerns — you’re headed in the wrong direction.  Stop and reassess.
• The second time I set out, this time with the goal of writing a novel for the Christian market, my instincts directed me to veer off the traveled road and to follow instead a narrow pathway. I wrote the book in a solitary way, just me and God.  No organizations, no critiques, no contests, no deadlines.  Lesson #3: Follow your instincts because God speaks to you through them.  Narrow pathways can also lead to publication.
• Since I only had an audience of One to please, I wrote the book of my heart, the way that I loved it, and exactly as I wanted it to be.  I stumbled backwards into a modern setting, which turned out to offer a great backdrop for humor, which turned out to suit a quirky, casual, wry author’s voice I’d never known I possessed.  Even better, though?  The writing brought me such joy!  The most joy I’d ever encountered in a project.  Lesson #4: The real blessing isn’t in the destination of publication or happy readers or career success.  The real blessing is the satisfaction that’s found en route, in the doing of the work. So choose a trek that deeply delights you.

What have your instincts told you about your writing journey in the past?  Or what are they telling you now?  Have you made any wrong turns along the way?  Or have you reached a goal only to find you might have been slightly off-course the whole time?

 

And let me just add my two cents, Becky…I totally felt your joy in writing this story! It came through perfectly on every page. And readers, it’s got a hot hockey player in it…what’s not to like?!

My Stubborn Heart is available now from Bethany House Publishers and you can purchase it here through Amazon!

A Sensational CBA Debut in Contemporary Romance!  This summer author Becky Wade makes her CBA debut with a fun — and funny — contemporary romance.  Amidst the light-hearted banter and laugh-out-loud moments is a compelling spiritual journey of one woman’s choice to listen to God and wait on him.  Filled with humor and authentic romance, My Stubborn Heart is shaping up to be the hit of the summer.

Kate Donovan is burned out on work, worn down by her dating relationships, and in need of an adventure. When Kate’s grandmother asks Kate to accompany her to Redbud, Pennsylvania, to restore the grand old house she grew up in, Kate jumps at the chance.

Yet, she discovers a different kind of project upon meeting the man hired to renovate the house.  Matt Jarreau is attractive and clearly wounded — hiding from people, from God, and from his past.  Kate can’t help but set her stubborn heart on bringing him out of the dark and back into the light… whether he likes it or not.

 

Becky Wade makes her home in Dallas, Texas with her husband, three children, and one adoring (and adored) cavalier spaniel. Her diamond castle (an inspirational contemporary romance titled My Stubborn Heart has just been released by Bethany House.

 

Readers: We would love to hear your comments and questions, but first, I’m going to through the first question out there…Becky, what is next for you? Spill it!  

What Do You Want in a Hero?

Couldn’t you see him on the cover of a romance novel?

So I met a guy. And he’s nearly perfect. Sigh… He’s got light caramel colored skin, and curly dark hair. His big brown eyes always look at me in a slightly worshipful manner. And he’s got an accent! Kind of like Antonio Banderes only a little bit softer. Plus he loves me. He tells everybody how smart I am. How I know everything in the world. And he thinks I’m bee-yoo-ti-ful. I get the most lavish compliements from him every day. Too bad he’s only eight years old.

I hope my little Mario doesn’t lose any of his charm because one day he’ll make some girl (his own age) very happy.

Thinking about him got me thinking about heroes. I am in the beginning stages of my WIP and therefore am in the getting to know you phase with my characters. I know my heroine because honestly each one of them has a little bit of me inside of her. But my hero… he’s a little more complicated. Which brings me to the question I ask my self every time I start a book.

What makes a hero a hero?

I think it may be different for each of us but here are some of the traits I commonly see in the heroes of romance novels.

He’s rich…

Hey, baby. Want to roll around in my millions.

A lot of them are, especially in Regency romance as well as titled. In category romance there seemed to be more than enough billionaires to go around. Susan Elizabeth Phillips likes athletes. Many of her books are based around the fictional Chicago Stars Football team. And if they aren’t filthy rich they at least have good jobs. I see a lot of FBI agents, doctors, lawyers, contractors, firemen etc. I haven’t seen one romance novel where the hero was a regular old teacher. Have you? I might have to write one. But knowing myself he would fall into some kind of inheritance and soon become rich.

So why do we see so many rich hero’s? Because we need to know that he is going to be able to take care of our girl.

He’s super sexy…

Why don’t we ever see any chunky heroes? None with pot bellies. Or balding heads, or buck teeth. No short ones. No. Our loves are always tall and have hard rippling bodies. Even if they aren’t classically handsome they make our heroine swoon and they always seem to have ah-mazing stamina in bed.

Why? Because heroes are fantasy. They are little bits and pieces of perfect rolled up into one man. The men we secretly wish other men would turn into.

Although I have to give it Mary Balogh who in Lord Carew’s Bride makes her hero born physically disabled. He wasn’t your usual big strong sexy masculine romance hero. But that book worked for me. I love to see my characters with a little more depth.

He’s strong…

And I’m not just talking about physically strong. Emotionally (at least in the end) he’s everything our girl needs in a man. He holds her while she cries. He fights the bad guy. He’s tough but sensitive. He lends support. He makes her see the world in a different way.

Two books in one!

Why is this? Because weak heroes aren’t sexy. Nobody really wants to see a man crying and cowering behind his woman.

Help me make my hero a whole man. What kinds of traits do see in heroes that you go gaga for? Were there some I missed? What kind of man do you like to write about? Any and all comments are welcome.

What Physics Games Taught Me

Thea Devine here, a rabid Mahjong Titans fan.  I play it endlessly, I’m fascinated by it, I love it.  But what I never expected was that I would go crazy nuts over physics games.  You know — the cut, slice, dice, collide and explode things kind of games.  Oh my goodness — your basic hopeless-at-math, barely-passed-algebra, don’t even talk to me about geometry, calculus. trigonometry or physics student madly in love with and intensively absorbed by physics games.

And I’m constantly searching out new ones (don’t tell my husband — who did take calculus and trig) and I spend far too much time playing games, which require analyzing angles, balance, sweet spots, swing, timing and torque, among other things, in order to collide, cut, destroy or dynamite the objective.

But here’s the thing:  the angles, timing, swing, and speed don’t always work the way you think they will.  Sometimes, when you slice one way, your object collapses the opposite way.  Or your maneuver to get two pieces to collide when one is descending faster than the other which is perched on a ledge with no discernible way to reach the oncoming object leaves you dizzy and totally perplexed.  How many times do you try it the way you think it should work before you realize you have to recalculate and devise a different  theory?

Sometimes, I discovered, you have to think back to front, down instead of up, sideways instead of straight ahead.

Sometimes, I thought in a lightbulb moment, that’s how you have to approach a plot that’s not working. Slice and dice.  Go under instead of over.  Cut the ground out from under a character and see what happens.  Think front to back, especially if you’re plotting a mystery.   The bad guy has to account for everything in order not to be suspected.  The guy who says he took off on a camping trip with his kids the snowy stormy night his wife was murdered sounds awfully suspicious.  There has to be a better alibi than that.  Start with the murder.  Who what when where why how.  Especially what and how.  Back to front:  how did he do it, how did he cover his tracks, what’s his alibi, how does he make it foolproof, where does he slip up (subtly)?

Or reverse things.  Make a male character into a woman (or vice versa).  That solved a problem for me when I had in my head the picture of this guy on a subway whom I noticed when my husband and I were on our way into Manhattan one evening (we lived in Brooklyn then — that’s how long he occupied my head).

He’d knelt in front of this couple, and the expression on his face was just gorgeous:  all lit up, all intense and focused on the couple. . For years I wanted to make him into a  a hero — but I couldn’t fit him and that moment into any scenario I was working on.  Then one day I thought — he doesn’t have to be a guy. And if I changed him and his glowing intensity into a woman, it would give me the heroine for a contemporary project I’d been thinking about.

Outside the box.  Sometimes you have switch off that linear thought process.  When I was in the midst of thinking about the plot for The Darkest Heart, I still couldn’t wrap my head around the idea of a romantic vampire hero.  I was thinking blood, gore, dank, dark, dirt, yuck — romantic?  Really?  I mean I knew the reasons vampires are alluring:   they’re mysterious, they’re immortal;  you’re flirting with reckless endangerment (death is but a kiss away).  they’re protective … but none of that sparked any romance in me.  So I asked my husband.  And he said, in his logical look-at-every-angle way, “they’re victims.  They had no choice.”

I mean, I never even thought of that.  I wasn’t as deeply into physics games then (if that’s an excuse), so naturally I didn’t think of a different angle.  But instantly that one outside my box perception opened everything up for me.  My hero was now vulnerable.  He’s wrestling with what he was, what he’s become, what he can’t change, and where this irrevocable transformation must lead, even as he’s bent on a warpath of revenge.  And then the heroine pops up to derail all those plans …

And there was the plot.  All because of one different perspective on vampires.

Oh, do I love my husband!

Do you play physics games?  What about your plots and plans?  Have you ever sliced, diced, exploded or reversed a plot?  Did it work?  How much do you love your husband?