Readers, Writers, and A Book Club

A couple weeks ago, I spoke at a book club.  My first one!  I've spoken to aspiring writers before, discussing all aspects of the writing business, but never to readers who weren't interested in being published.  And man, was that different!

These ladies read everything, mostly fiction, but all genres and not usually romance.  Some authors they've read more than once.  Jane Austen and I are tied at four for having the most novels read by the club.  Since Jane's no longer with us and they're reading my fifth novel soon, I'm about to become the most read author.  Take that, Austen!  (This may be the only contest in which my books beat out Jane Austen's.)

Here's what I learned that was unexpected, and fun - readers get to know your books.  I mean, they KNOW them.  Better than I do!  These ladies would speculate about minor characters whose names I couldn't even remember and wonder if they'd have a bigger role in the next book.  Or whip off the name of a store like they shop there all the time.  It was all so real to them. 

At first I was dumbfounded, but on the drive home I figured out why I was so dense about my own creations.  I wrote and re-wrote and edited those books until I didn't want to see them again.  I changed characters' motivations and backgrounds half way through the story in order to work something else into the plot.  I even changed some of their names.  The book in my head is littered with sub plots that were cut or revised, and people who changed from happy-go-lucky to closed off and brooding.  But my readers know only one version.  It's unmuddled and smooth, and it works. 

And that was the BEST compliment anyone could give me - my fictional town and people became real to them, at least for a few hours.  That's any writer's ultimate goal, and that book club overwhelmed me with how well it worked for them.  What a thrill!  Thanks, ladies!

Writing A Blog (or, What Have I Gotten Into?)

The following is an actual email conversation between me and my daughter, which started out talking about Jenny Lawson's blog, bloggess.com, then sequed into the natural mother-daughter topic of "let me tell you what's wrong with you" (in which either party can be the one pointing out the faults, but this time it's her):

--------------------------------

 

Ariana:  And where's your post about the book club? You'd better be working on it. Jenny Lawson posts pretty much everyday and you're never going to maintain an audience if you don't post on a regular basis. You don't have to start posting everyday right away but you should aim for once a week or something so that at least you're consistent.

 

Me:  I used to do 2 and 3 times a week and tried to keep it up. Sometimes my life just seems too irrelevant and dull. Or doesn't fit with the stated theme of "writing" or "rural life". Maybe I'm confining myself? Or maybe I'm not all that fascinating. Or maybe I'm a harsh judge of what others would read and like. That one, probably. And moody - that too. And unambitious. And apparently self-critical.

Don't confine yourself. If you are writing about yourself or something you experienced then it fits with the theme of your blog. And yes, you probably are too harsh of a judge of what others would enjoy reading. You shouldn't be so self-critical but if you are, then at least write about it! Quit being so unambitious!

 

Me: And I have been working on it, in my head. But it has no point yet. Not a sharp enough one, anyway. Which I guess means I am dull. But I did send Stevie and Steve a sort of clever email yesterday - does that count?

No, a "sort of clever email" doesn't count because it's not out there for your fans to see. It might be progress in terms of getting the creative juices flowing but you still have to post.

 

And one more thing - if you post nearly every day, you start opening way too much of your private life to the internet. People love that they feel they know Jenny and her husband and kid. Same with Heather Armstrong (dooce.com)  She separated from her husband about a year ago, then they divorced, and she couldn't NOT mention it, but it was very abbreviated and mysterious. And when big things like that overwhelm your life, other things can screech to a halt, and there's not much else to write about. So...what was my point here? I think it's that if I want to write more blog entries I might have to get a life, and not get too wrapped up in my family. That sounds almost mentally healthy. I didn't mean to make that point.

 

(Thanks for the bog entry, Ariana)

Writing Technique

My granddaughter took over my office.  She may be a future novelist because I swear this is the same technique I use!  Maybe I should try a pacifier, too.

Writing Dirty Books

I know several people who write erotic romance, both straight and gay stories.  Their sex scenes are, um, let's say explicit.  Terminology is raw, with lots of oportunities to make use of it.  Nudge, nudge.

By comparison, my sex scenes are tame.  You might have to read 100 pages before you find one.  Maybe 200!  I'll tell you what happens, but the emphasis will be on their emotions.  Romance, you know?  Then again, if you're used to reading Dan Brown or Sue Grimshaw, the scenes are a bit lively.  So let's say I write sexy romance.

But that's winthin the romance writing community.  Outside of it, definitions are a bit less exact.

Scene:  I am introduced to my neighbor's adult son, who is visiting.

Neighbor:  This is our neighbor, Starr.
Me: (shaking his hand)  Hi.
Neighbor:  Starr's the one who writes the dirty books.
Me:  Well, they're not really...
Son:   Oh, you're the one!

Sigh.  I guess that's me - the one who writes dirty books. 

The Difference Between Men and Women

The Set-Up:  A contractor is working in my kitchen this week.  He's listening to a John Grisham book on tape as he works, and we've discussed Grisham's books.  Also the fact that I write romance novels. 

The Scene:  I walk into the room as Grisham (on tape) recounts a sex scene.  Actually, he describes his character's confused feelings about the woman after having "done the deed."

contractor:  "See?  Grisham writes romance, too."
me (smirking) "Sex isn't the same as romance."
contractor:  "Yes, it is."

The end.

Hook Them When They're Young!

Romance comprises half of the paperback book market.  Mysteries, science fiction, fantasy, mainstream fiction, etc. - that's the other half.  Readers love romance! 

Why?  MUST YOU EVEN ASK?  What's life without love?  But in case you feel you've somehow been manipulated into liking romance stories, into expecting a muscular, dashing hero to swoop a scantily-clad heroine into his arms. . . um, maybe you have.

See any similarities?

We suck in all those malleable young minds so that years later, when they see an echo of that childhood fantasy on the bookshelf, they snatch it up without question!

(The author of this book, Cheryl Ann Smith, is a good friend of mine, so I don't think she'll mind this free advertisement.  And remember, it's the publishers who pick the covers, not the authors!)

Writing With A Reluctant Muse

Time to write my next book.  I set a trap for my missing Muse - an open Kindle with two new romantic suspense downloads, a glass of wine, and a fleece afghan.

Within minutes she fluttered over, eyeing the set-up suspiciously, then settled delicately onto the Kindle's home page.  She tiptoed across the screen and bent over to read the new titles, glowing with anticipation.  I leapt from behind the recliner and snatched her by the wings.

"#&!@%!"  She struggled, taking futile swings at the air.

"Time to go to work, lazy bones."

"Ef you!"  She spit pixie dust at me.  It drifted down to the cat sleeping on the couch.  He looked up, blinking in surprise, as if he'd just been struck by a brilliant idea.

"Save it, fairy," I told her.  "I haven't written in weeks and I'm going to need all the inspiration you've got."

"Buy a thesaurus," she said.  "And stop pinching my wings!"

"It only hurts because you're out of shape."

"I'm in prime condition!"  She arched her back in fake agony.  "Ow!  Ow!  You're killing me!  Someone help..."  She paused in mid-complaint.  "What's that?"

I dangled her in front of the computer monitor, the ultimate temptation for a Muse.  "That's my opening scene."

She squinted, then shot me a look of horrified disbelief.  "It was a dark and stormy night?  God, Ambrose, you need help."

"Like I said."

"No cliches!  How many times have I told you?"  She wiggled and made little fairy grunting noises as she scanned my desktop.  "Where's your notes?  What's the situation?"

Cautiously, I set her down.  She shook herself, scattering pixie dust, then walked with exagerated dignity to the legal pad on the desktop and began reading my notes.  I eyed the sparkling powder she'd left behind.  Brushing it into my palm, I patted it on my head.  Every little bit helps.

Meanwhile, my Muse was becoming interested.  "This sounds like romantic suspense."

"That's right."

"So she gets attacked in scene one?"

"If you say so."

"Of course she does.  Damn, Ambrose, how dumb are you?"

My Muse is rude.  She's also a sucker for a good suspense story.

"Her father just died, huh?  That's good," my Muse mused, reading my notes.  "But why are you starting at the funeral home?  A cemetery is creepier."

I typed a couple lines.  "Like that?" I asked.

She studied the monitor and tapped a finger thoughtfully on her chin.  "Make it colder.  Late fall.  And get rid of the stupid sunshine."

"Got it."  I backspaced and re-typed.

"Much better.  And the bad guy mingling with the mourners is good."  She read more, frowning.    "Where's the hero?"

"He's not here yet."

"Are you fucking kidding me?  Of course he's there.  Make it happen."

Obediently, I typed him in.

"Yes, see?  Like that."  She nodded approval.  "I like that she's suspicious of him and totally misses the bad guy."

"I have a good idea now and then."

"Not often enough.  Hey, where's that wine?"

"Later.  Write first."

She pouted.  "At least some chips, then."

"Trail mix."

She rolled her eyes.  "You are so boring, Ambrose."  She's wrong, of course, but I know better than to argue with her so I said nothing and waited.  "Okay," she fianlly said. "Let's get this thing moving.  Can we shove her into the open grave?"

"Absolutely!"  I typed, smiling.  "Welcome back, Muse."

RWA Literacy Signing

You know that rush you get when you snort a line of coke right after chugging a Red Bull?  Me either.  But I imagine it would get you as charged up as I felt at last night's Literacy Signing at the RWA national convention here in Anaheim.  For three hours I got to meet readers and hear how much they enjoyed my books - that's a big enough high to be illegal.  And for others who were attracted by the book cover, I got to introduce them to my new series and my past books.  I hate promoting myself, but when they actually come to me...well, I can be persuaded to brag a bit.

That blue flag announcing me as a Rita finalist helped.  It's like a flashing neon arrow saying "Other authors loved this book!"  Maybe that helped get me a corner lot, too, right on the main aisle.  I met so many wonderful readers and authors! 

The books are donated by the publisher, and all proceeds go to literacy organizations.  RWA donates tens of thousands of dollars a year through this event, thanks to the generousity of the publishers and readers.  And I get an entirely selfish high by connecting with my readers.

Still Waiting...

I keep hoping I'll have a happy update on Fritz's condition, but we are, incredibly, still waiting for the abscess to find a path out of his hoof.  Whoever thought good, strong hooves could be a problem?  He is more sore than ever and the skin above his coronary band is puffy and hot - something is happening, but not enough.  I am more nervous every day, because this has got to be putting added stress on his other feet.  Heck, on his whole system, just from dealing with the constant pain.  To allay my fears a bit, I had a compelte blood panel done to check the general health of his organs, and all is well, just an elevated white count from infection.  So we wait.

I am more uneasy each day, because I have to be gone next week.  On Tue. I leave for the Romance Writers of America's national convention in Anaheim, CA.  This is the BIG EVENT for me, as my book Silver Sparks is a finalist for best single title contemporary for both the Rita award and the Booksellers Best.  This may never happen again.  Fritz was supposed to be well by now.  Talk about conflict.  My husband will be here and will do his best to care for him, but Fritz is my baby.  I'm going to be a distracted, nervous wreck. 

The Right Job (You thought I'd say Write? I don't do cliches.)

I finished my novel!  Big cheer!  I'm on vacation!

Day One - no looming deadlines, no contract obligations.  Total Freedom!  I can do whatever I want, starting with the long-neglected laundry and vacuuming.  Ha!  I knew that carpet was beige!

Day Two - God, what do people do all day?  My head feels empty - no plots playing out in the background, no characters getting themselves into sticky situations.  How can I enjoy a novel when all I see is some other author beating me to a juicy plot line?  Unemployment sucks.

That, people, is how you know you're in the right line of work.  That, and when your husband says he's looking forward to retirement, and panic seizes your gut, and you blurt out, "But I don't want to quit working!" 

Did those words just come out of my mouth?  Yes.  I love my job.  Never saw that one coming.

But Starr, you say.  I thought writing made you frustrated, anxious, and constantly distracted!

I said I was happy, I didn't say I was sane.

Grasping At Straws

Three weeks into Fritz's mysterious lameness, I still have a horse that can barely hobble and no clue why.  Lots of clues why not, though.

We eliminated more possibilities today when Dr. DeWitt injected the coffin joint (just above the coronary band of the hoof, a place you wouldn't normally recognize as a joint.)  The idea was to see if the pain originated in the deep flexor tendon by blocking (numbing) the area.

At the same time she also injected a steroid to act as an anti-inflammatory and pain killer.  If this area was the cause of the lameness, we would have seen an improvement in 10-15 minutes. 

We didn't.

We are now at the point technically known as shit-out-of-luck.  Outside of a one-hour trailer ride (with a horse that can barely stand on 4 feet) to the vet college at Michigan State University for a $2,000 MRI, we are out of options.  My bank tells me this is not a real option. 

Tomorrow my farrier will trim Fritz's hoof to help shift weight to the back rather than the toe, relieving as much pressure and pain as we can.  We will also see what he thinks about that bruised-looking area that may or may not indicate a deep abscess.  Vets have a lot of respect for a good farrier, who sees nothing but horses' hooves and knows a lot about their problems.

Meanwhile, Fritz eats less, and has been lying down more often to relieve the constant pain.  For a horse who usually lies down no more than 5 minutes at a time, it's alarming to see him down for one to one-and-a-half hours at a time.  My poor baby.

Through all this, I am re-writing the last chapter of my book, which is due by the end of this week.  That would be the Happily Ever After part, where all the nail-biting issues that kept the hero and heroine apart are neatly resolved, and we know that everything will work out for them from here on out.  Because life is like that - or so we like to think. 

I can be a fatalist if pushed into it, but I prefer to be an optimist.  I am living for the HEA.

Silver Sparks Studies Abroad

. . . and enjoys the beach and view of Vulcan Mederas in Nicaragua while the students work on cultural and language studies.  Life is good.

The (Cover) Art of Selling

I've been absent because I've been busy writing.  That's a good excuse, isn't it?  I like it.  Sadly, it's not true.  Mostly I've been freaking out about how much I'm not writing, because the creative portion of my brain is frozen and I'm not doing much of anything.

In case my editor's reading this: don't panic.  This paralysis is normal for me when my book is due in six weeks.  I always find something wrong with the way I said the story would end, and I have to re-think the whole thing.  I'll annoy everyone around me with my anxious hair pulling and distracted muttering, but I'll figure it out.  My creative process isn't pretty, but it works.

Meanwhile, my publisher has revealed the covers for my next novel and my e-novella, both in the Barringer's Pass series.  We had some disagreement over the cover for the novel, Gold Fire.  They want to change the style from the first novel in the series, Silver Sparks, and I don't like that they no longer seem to go together.  But it's not about what I like, it's about what sells.  (By the way, this is the answer for ANY disagreement in publishing; get used to it.)  Since odds are they know what they're doing, I'm good with it.

So these are the covers:

This is the e-novella, about a horse trainer who has no intention of giving her heart to a man who won't stay in her small mountain town, and a man who has no intention of staying in the small town he left years ago for a successful career in Boston.   

  

This is book two in the Barringer's Pass series, Zoe's story.  She's the ambitious, image-conscious assistant manager of the prestigious Alpine Sky resort.  He's Jase, a washed-up athlete and the current owner of the Rusty Wire Saloon, who's most far-reaching ambition is planning his next fishing trip.  He has what the Alpine Sky wants - the land under the Rusty Wire - and it's her job to convince him to sell.  Her repeated failures don't seem to deter the handsome owner of the Alpine Sky from espressing a personal interest in Zoe.  He's the opposite of Jase - polished, ambitious, and attentive.  And his kisses are more than nice.  But one impulsive clinch with stubborn, irritating Jase has her head spinning.  She might need to get the wrong man out of her system before she can concentrate on the right man.

The big question is, how much does a book's cover influence your decision to buy it?  Or to even pick it up?  Marketing research seems to indicate that it matters a lot, and I'd have to agree.  The question is whether these covers will work well for these stories.  In the end, it's all a gamble.  (My publisher would probably call it an educated guess.) 

What makes you reach for a book?  If you'd never heard of it before, would you take a second look at these books based solely on the cover?

Brave New e-World

I have recently agreed to a new contract with my publisher, Pocket Books, for the third book in my Barringer's Pass series.  It will release early next year as a digital-only book, with the possibility of going to print later.

When I first began writing for Pocket Books, Pocket Star was a line of mass market paperbacks.  Then the name disappeared.  Now it's back, with an impressive list of authors like Cindy Gerard, Laura Griffin, and V.C. Andrews, and featuring new titles you will only find in e-book form.  Including mine!  I'm honored to be included in this group.

And a bit embarrassed - I think I need to buy an e-reader!

That Certain Point In The Book

You can always tell when I get to the sexy parts in my books.  Most of the time that dark blue dictionary sits on top of the pile and gets occasional use as I double-check meanings or whether to hyphenate.  But when I get to the sex scenes, that thesaurus flips open and stays that way until the hero and heroine get their clothes back on.

You wouldn't think it would be so hard to write a sex scene after you get over the fact that your mother might be reading it.  Or your daughter.  Standard disclaimer here, and I cannot stress this enough - it's fiction!  When I kill a character I am not writing from my own personal experience with murder, and when my hero and heroine get into bed they aren't consulting my personal playbook.  Like any other scene, what happens depends entirely on what came before and what sort of characters they are.  So you'd think I could do what I do in every other scene - just imagine it and write what plays out in my mind.

Nope.  Can't do it.  I can see it, alright.  But have you ever tried to describe a sexual encounter without veering into porn or sounding like an anatomy book?  Not so easy.  How many ways can you say "lust" or "desire?"  And how many "heated looks" can he give her without sounding like the bed is about to go up in flames?  Forget "pulsing" and "throbbing"; some words are just too descriptive.  But trust me, readers don't want to be yanked out of the story just when it gets to the most emotionally charged part.  They want to see what happens, and they want it to take a few pages, not a couple paragraphs.  So out comes the thesaurus.  And yes, there's one built into the Microsoft Word program, but it thinks "lust" is the same as "hanker after," so unless I start writing about old ranch hands who sit around the bunk house saying, "By jimminy, I've got a hankerin' for that gal," I won't be getting much use out of the Microsoft thesaurus.

In case you're wondering, the papers under the dictionary and thesaurus are my notes on things to go back and change.  Also my outline so I don't lose track of what's supposed to happen next. 

Oh, and the squirt gun?  That's for cats that think digging their claws into the family room chair while Mom's not watching might be a good idea.  Surprise, it's not.

More Phishing

Another email today (see yesterday's post on Fans and Phishes.) from someone who obviously just wants my signature.  Can someone tell me why? 

Dear Starr,
My wife Mavis gets so much enjoyment from reading your books and she thinks you are a brilliant writer.
Would it be possible for you to send her a signed photograph or bookplate please.
She would be so surprised and delighted, it would really make her birthday extra special. 
Thank you and best wishes from
Keith Holt
25 Field Drive
Alvaston
Derby
DE24 0HF
England
UK

This is when I'm glad that  - PAY ATTENTION HERE, PHISHERS! - I don't write under my own legal name.  Starr Ambrose has no social security number, no bank accounts, and no credit history. 

If anyone is ever considering whether to publish under their own name, my advice is DON'T.  There are too many people out there willing to take advantage of you.

Fans and Phishes

Fan mail has to be one of the nicest perks that go with being an author.  What could be better than having some stranger tell you the creation you labored over for months and months was absolutely terrific?  It made her laugh, made her fall in love with the hero, made her stay up until three A.M. because she couldn't put it down.  If you want to suck up to an author, say all that.  We lap it up, hold it next to our hearts, and repeat it to our best friends until they can't stand to be around us.  It's why we write. That and the paychecks, but really, that.

Then there's the emails that are effusive with praise, but just a little off.  Maybe they use that old cliche about a sister in the hospital who got through all those surgeries and treatments by reading your books.  She reads them over and over.  All of them!  You're her favorite author.  Flattering!  And the guy is so nice he's hoping you'll send him an autographed book so he can give it to his sister, because that would make her sooo happy.  Just send it to his address and he'll give it to her.

Right. 

Authors give out plenty of promotional books.  But not to that guy.  And here's a tip, just for that guy:  authors talk to each other.  We have professional organizations and chat loops that make us all one big family.  And guess what we learned?  Your email from Canada is identical to the one other authors got from Russia and Indonesia, with names changed.  And we all got them, even the new author who has signed that first contract but whose book has not yet hit the shelves.  Imagine how surprised she was to learn she is your sister's favorite author, and that she's read all her books!

I got another of those letters a couple days ago.  This is it, and yes, the salutation was darker and in a different font than the rest of the letter:


Hi Starr,

I'm Jay and I heard about u from my girlfriend Azi. She LOVES your books! I keep seeing her with your books every day! I even think she has your books memorized!

The reason that I'm writing is that her birthday is coming soon and I was hoping maybe u could send her some goodies or even a book or two?? Since I'm gonna move to South Africa soon, I wanted to make this her best birthday ever and I was hoping you could help me with that... Please do tell me if you could send in some stuff for her. You could send the stuff to me at

No 48, Jalan Setia Damai,

u13/14a, 40170,

Setia Alam,Selangor,

Malaysia

Please and thank you!

Yours,

Jay

p.s - She's going crazy looking for a copy of Lie To Me ... Can you maybe send it to her?? *Looks at you with puppy dog eyes*

Aww, Jay, you really got me with those puppy dog eyes!  Sure, I'll be sending you a big box of books and lots of other goodies.  Wait for it!

RITA® Awards

This morning I dutifully sat down to write and got halfway through my first sentence when the phone rang.  There was possibly a moment of cursing.  Then a civil, if strained, "Hello."  Then the shock of my professional life when I was told I was a finalist for the RITA®  Award.

Since then I've received a lot of congratulations.  Also, a lot of "Huh?  What's that?" queries.  So I will explain.

The Romance Writers of America® (RWA) sponsors a contest for published authors named after their co-founder, Rita Clay Estrada.  About 1,200 authors enter their romance books in the RITA® each year, in one of 12 categories.  Books are judged by our fellow romance authors, which is what makes this contest so important.  It's the Academy Awards for romance writers, with an awards ceremony attended by a couple thousand romance writers that strongly resembles the Oscar ceremonies you watch on TV.  Yes, we know how to do it right!  And just as the Oscar nominees say, it is truly an honor just to be nominated.  Because - with all apologies to my lovely readers - there is something special about your fellow published authors saying, "This is a great book!"

So that's why I had a completely giddy, unproductive day today that was all about feeling proud of my book, SILVER SPARKS.  Tomorrow I will get back to writing.  Or maybe dress shopping, because that awards ceremony is impressive, and if I wear my simple black wrap dress again my daughters and friends will disown me.  I've already been warned.

I think we need to get in touch with those Big Name dress designers and jewelers who make the Oscar nominees look so great.   I'd like to be Halle Berry, please.

Coming Around

I warned you all about this back in November ( here ) when I began writing my next book.  I said my brain would be a dysfuntional mess until April.  I wasn't kidding. 

I count it an amazing achievement that here in March I can blink at the blue sky, focus on objects, and murmur with wonder, "Look, I have a blog!  I could probably write something for it if I tried. . ."  Then I sink back into the bubbling muck and plot more problems for my heroine.

But I'm awake, and I have found you, internet.  I'll be back soon.

Writing and Depression

 Another scientific list is out, and I'm in the Loser group - The Depressed People.  Not depressing - so far science hasn't been able to hang that one on me.  But I can't deny the depressed part.

In a list of the top 10 professions prone to depression, writers come in 5th, along with artists and entertainers.  Depression is also a leading cause of suicide, which is rather, you know, depressing.  But more on that later.

True to my profession, I am depressed, or so my doctor says.  (My symptoms were insomnia and an inability to concentrate, which makes sense when you only get 4 hours of sleep.)  And for the record, I know a TON of writers who take anti-depressants.  There's something to those statistics.

What I found surprising is that numbers 1-4 on the Depressed list are all helping professions:
1. nursing home/child care workers
2. food service
3. social workers
4. health care workers
For that matter, number 6 is teachers, which is also another selfless, helping profession.  So how in the heck did we self-absorbed writers get in this group?

And let's dispell a big myth - depression doesn't mean you're moping around thinking bleak thoughts.  It probably means you feel overwhelmed by tasks you used to do easily.  And they have pills for that!  So depressed people who seek help aren't actually depressed.  Got it?
 
So who are those depressed people committing suicide?  Experts can't seem to narrow it down to particular professions.   Here's what they can say - women attempt suicide three to four times more often than men.  That wouldn't look good for me, EXCEPT... men succeed at it four times as often. 

I'm a competitive person, so I don't generally like to be second best at anything.  But guys, you can have this one.  And take a pill, why don't ya?  Or read a romance novel!  Dynamic characters, falling in love, and a guaranteed happy ending - how could that not make you feel better?