I remember back in the 1950s when soaps were introduced and grew in popularity. As a young teen, I can remember a minor interest, but American Bandstand and The Ed Sullivan Show stand out more in my memory. Oh, to see Elvis on tv in snowy black and white. His gyrations embarrased me and I couldn't watch him with my brother and dad in the same room.
In 1969 when my husband returned from Viet Nam, we moved to Aberdeen Proving Ground, MD. For a number of months I didn't have a job and found myself emersed in in the lives, much to the dismay of my husband, of the characters on All My Children. He was grateful when I finally got a job.
Off and on throughout the years, I've checked back in on Erika and the others but have managed to not get hooked. When my mother-in-law was diagnosed with lung cancer last year and moved in with us, I started watching The Bold and Beautiful with her. She blamed her addiction on her husband. She watched it to keep him company. I watched it to keep her company.
Anyhow, now I'm hooked and don't miss it if I can keep from it. Why I bother is a mystery to me. I've never seen so many disfunctional famlies. Plus, they've all been married to each other, had children with each other. Their lives are so intertwined that after a year of watching I'm still not sure how they're all related.
But, boy, they sure know how to leave you with a hook each day, especially on Friday. So, I guess watching is not a total waste of time. Maybe it will spark an idea for a story.
How about you, do you watch soaps? Which ones?
Thanks for reading!
Linda
Linda LaRoque ~Western Romance with a Twist in Time~ A Law of Her Own, Forever Faithful, Desires of the Heart, My Heart Will Find Yours, 5-9, Flames on the Sky10-9, Investment of the Heart 5-9, When the Ocotillo Bloom 7-9.
www.lindalaroque.com/ http://wwww.lindalaroqueauthor.blogspot.com/
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Gothic Romance
I just finished reading Victoria Holt's King of the Castle, a gothic romance from 1967. I love gothics -- Irene Pascoe is one of my favorites and I hear Jane Toombs writes a wonderful one as well. As a fellow Champagne author I need to make time to read her. Victoria Holt is still, I think, the reigning queen of gothic romance. Dark, brooding, a mystery that will change more than the heroine's life...the stuff of good angst.
What struck me outright it is how far we've come in writing in terms of style, drama, passion, emotion and language. No, I'm not talking about certain words that we said only in the most dire of situations back in the 60's...I remember the first time I heard someone say the "f" word in high school as part of their irritation at something. I was stunned. I remember Mark using the word, not why. He died a year after gradution, I remember why, but mostly I remember him using the word. These days I hear it several times a day along with a host of others. It's no longer a word of shock, but simply part of our vocabulary. With a langauge as rich as English is, that's sad.
But I digress. The story is a solid example of what was great romance of the time. It's told in the first person (something I'm not a fan of although it seems I'm reading more and more of it). The teen in the story's dialogue is stilted, forced. Although to Ms. Holt's credit this not one of those annoying precocious children I see too often in books these days. In fact, much of the dialogue is pretty two dimensional. I felt no connection to the heroine, who's point of view the story is told in, because she tells what she sees and feels, but the story evoked little, if any emotion in me. I can see now, after my own adventures in editing (thank you to the good ones I've had) that it's because it's all telling with no showing. It's a flatly told story. Even when she finds the "key" to the mystery it is such a non-event. I almost missed it.
BUT, it was a story of its time, told in what the manner of the time was. I'm not so sure we would accept the writing as a top choice these days. It is a mellow read, which is good, the action is downplayed, little emotion. It's not the kind of book you sit down and read in two or three days because you just can't put it down, ,but you are called back to it over and over because you want to find out the answer to the mystery.
I struggled with the heroine's first encounter with the Comte (our hero) because she outright dislikes him...but why? Because the author has told us through the heroine? And then she's just as suddenly in love with him even though she hardly sees him and basically thinks he's a jerk. Because it is told in the first person we have no idea what his thoughts are and he doesn't really spend all that much time around her, so the heroine makes these leaps in deciding what's going on with the hero. It wouldn't fly today. We want to know the motivation, how they got there, and why she would want to be with him.
Yet it takes the reader back to perhaps a simpler, more innocent time. No passionate kisses, they aren't even alluded to. There are just whispered conversations that the heroine overhears, but not all of them. There is one character who ends up pregnant, but again, there is no passion there. It is a reflection of the time the book was being written. These things went on, marriages were arranged when they did, little was said.
It reminds me in ia way of the changes in movies and is, for me, a contrast in what I like. I LOVE the movies from the 40's and 50's. Singing in the Rain is in my top five, I loved How to Marry a Millionaire, The Maltese Falcon, Key Largo (do you see a Bogart trend here). The movies relied on acting, talent, not special effects and camera angles. I'm not saying current films are all techno-driven -- I'm a huge fan of Sandra Bullock, especially her more recent work that delves into the paranormal. The Lake House is a huge favorite. Readers have told me they can so see her as Kelly in my McKenna crime series which is looking for a good home.
I also have watched Sleepless in Seattle and You've Got Mail over and over -- the actors truly act in them. I feel the character's emotions technology is incorporated but doesn't drive the film. The talent can stand on its own.
It is interesting to me that I enjoy older movies, but prefer modern books. It seems we demand more of authors today while technology seems to have made less demand for authors.
I didn't dislike King of the Castle. It was a good read for my hour bus rides to work each day. I leave in the morning while it is still dark, sit in a seat in the back with only a dim reading light above me -- very appropriate for a gothic read. At night when there is usually someone beside me I scrunch in my corner and after the fast pace of the day it was a good book to transition to the lull of evening.
I enjoyed Ms. Holt's books growing up -- I believe she still is the Queen of the Gothic Romance. What has changed is what I want from a book, from the characters.
What struck me outright it is how far we've come in writing in terms of style, drama, passion, emotion and language. No, I'm not talking about certain words that we said only in the most dire of situations back in the 60's...I remember the first time I heard someone say the "f" word in high school as part of their irritation at something. I was stunned. I remember Mark using the word, not why. He died a year after gradution, I remember why, but mostly I remember him using the word. These days I hear it several times a day along with a host of others. It's no longer a word of shock, but simply part of our vocabulary. With a langauge as rich as English is, that's sad.
But I digress. The story is a solid example of what was great romance of the time. It's told in the first person (something I'm not a fan of although it seems I'm reading more and more of it). The teen in the story's dialogue is stilted, forced. Although to Ms. Holt's credit this not one of those annoying precocious children I see too often in books these days. In fact, much of the dialogue is pretty two dimensional. I felt no connection to the heroine, who's point of view the story is told in, because she tells what she sees and feels, but the story evoked little, if any emotion in me. I can see now, after my own adventures in editing (thank you to the good ones I've had) that it's because it's all telling with no showing. It's a flatly told story. Even when she finds the "key" to the mystery it is such a non-event. I almost missed it.
BUT, it was a story of its time, told in what the manner of the time was. I'm not so sure we would accept the writing as a top choice these days. It is a mellow read, which is good, the action is downplayed, little emotion. It's not the kind of book you sit down and read in two or three days because you just can't put it down, ,but you are called back to it over and over because you want to find out the answer to the mystery.
I struggled with the heroine's first encounter with the Comte (our hero) because she outright dislikes him...but why? Because the author has told us through the heroine? And then she's just as suddenly in love with him even though she hardly sees him and basically thinks he's a jerk. Because it is told in the first person we have no idea what his thoughts are and he doesn't really spend all that much time around her, so the heroine makes these leaps in deciding what's going on with the hero. It wouldn't fly today. We want to know the motivation, how they got there, and why she would want to be with him.
Yet it takes the reader back to perhaps a simpler, more innocent time. No passionate kisses, they aren't even alluded to. There are just whispered conversations that the heroine overhears, but not all of them. There is one character who ends up pregnant, but again, there is no passion there. It is a reflection of the time the book was being written. These things went on, marriages were arranged when they did, little was said.
It reminds me in ia way of the changes in movies and is, for me, a contrast in what I like. I LOVE the movies from the 40's and 50's. Singing in the Rain is in my top five, I loved How to Marry a Millionaire, The Maltese Falcon, Key Largo (do you see a Bogart trend here). The movies relied on acting, talent, not special effects and camera angles. I'm not saying current films are all techno-driven -- I'm a huge fan of Sandra Bullock, especially her more recent work that delves into the paranormal. The Lake House is a huge favorite. Readers have told me they can so see her as Kelly in my McKenna crime series which is looking for a good home.
I also have watched Sleepless in Seattle and You've Got Mail over and over -- the actors truly act in them. I feel the character's emotions technology is incorporated but doesn't drive the film. The talent can stand on its own.
It is interesting to me that I enjoy older movies, but prefer modern books. It seems we demand more of authors today while technology seems to have made less demand for authors.
I didn't dislike King of the Castle. It was a good read for my hour bus rides to work each day. I leave in the morning while it is still dark, sit in a seat in the back with only a dim reading light above me -- very appropriate for a gothic read. At night when there is usually someone beside me I scrunch in my corner and after the fast pace of the day it was a good book to transition to the lull of evening.
I enjoyed Ms. Holt's books growing up -- I believe she still is the Queen of the Gothic Romance. What has changed is what I want from a book, from the characters.
Friday, March 27, 2009
Heeding the call
Michael W. Davis
Many years ago, as I approached the crest of my professional career, I pondered, “What next?” I had spent my adult life encased in the clutter, crime, and traffic of metropolitan areas like Baltimore and Washington. Truth was, unlike many city dwellers that thrive on that existence, I hated it. It was such a far cry from the environment where I was nurtured as a child in the countryside of the south. The islands of humanity that kept to themselves, the philosophies of entitlement and government intervention into every aspect of your life; all of the chains that enslave those that cling to city life made my skin sting, like it was bathed in a thousand jelly fish.
Then on one of my weekend hikes into the woods near my house, I realized the yearning I had ignored all these years. I needed to return to my roots, the belief of self-reliance and cordiality that abound in the countryside. We packed up, moved back to the south, and have never regretted the decision to return home to my beginnings. It took several trips to relocate, and on the third excursion, I decided to venture into an unknown area, to us, east of Buena Vista, VA on route 530. Half way, we pulled off onto an overlook and I watched the water snake its way along the valley of the mountain range. The experience rekindled memories from my youth. The smell of honeysuckle, the cascading falls firing a cloud of water vapor down the cliffs, the railroad tracks inching along the river and disappearing into the distant; everything stimulate my muse and BLIND CONSENT was born.
I decided to derive a story based on those visions, those memories, coupled with the hero heeding a subliminal call to return to his birthplace. Only, in Ryan’s case, the rumblings beneath the voice calling him back are dark and sinister, both in terms of a young boy’s guilt, and a secret buried away in the roots of his town, Tanglewood Falls. A toll has been levied against the people, but because of their simple views and trust in others, they blindly consented to what appeared in their best interest, but in fact exposed them to a lifetime of suffering and poverty. The hero searches for the truth, the answers to what happened twenty-six years ago, what its done to the people, and how it’s responsible for the folklore about their blessed Annie. Finally, the answers echo from the community graveyard, the accident-prone logging operation, and the strange relationship between Annie and the town doctor. Ryan discovers that his dreams, his yearning, every thing he is and will become is linked to Annie and the blind quest from one man to end his loneliness regardless of the pain it inflicts on the people of Tanglewood Falls.
Although the intriguing storyline and suspenseful plot are the imagination of a warped mind, many of the people and events are derived from real life. For example, Alice and Annie (names changed of course) were my first childhood sweethearts. Aunt May, with all her strength and candor, was based upon my deceased Aunt who, like in the story, saved my life as a toddler. The novel will be released April/09 and excerpts are currently available at Davisstories.com. If you read the story, remember: the answers we seek are buried in the secrets of the past.
See ya in four weeks.
Big Mike
Michael W. Davis (Davisstories.com)
Author of:
Blind Consent, “The answers are buried in the secrets of the past.”
Forgotten Children, “Only Sara knows the truth.”
Tainted Hero, “Sometimes good people do bad things.”
The Treasure, “A lonely heart can impair one’s judgment.”
Veil of Deception, “Sometimes truth cuts deeper than a lie.”, Jan/2010
Thursday, March 26, 2009
February Writing Prompt - The Guerrilla Truck
Isn’t this a great photo for the story starter this month?
I spotted this monster on Catalina Island and it simply screamed for a plot.
So share with us how you would use this truck in a story.
Here’s my take…
“I’ll drive.”
Great, Cole thought as he followed the stiff backed, designer suit clad woman out the door. He’d have to cram his six foot four frame into some tiny little sports car. One bump and he’d be wearing the dash. But he needed this lawyer chick so he kept his mouth shut.
At least until they got to her vehicle. There it dropped open.
“It’s unlocked,” she prompted as she climbed into a massive truck, careful not to smudge the fifteen layers of mud it was sporting onto her prissy outfit.
Unlocked? Of course it was unlocked. No one in their right mind would steal the beast.
And the sight of this tiny lady seated behind its wheel? All he could do was stand on the sidewalk and gawk. Like a great big idiot.
“You coming or what?” She threw an irritated glance in his direction
“Oh, I’m coming alright.” He wouldn’t miss this for the world.
Kimber Chin shares short stories, posts photos of men in great fitting suits, and gives away her favorite romance eBooks on http://businessromance.com/ . She is thrilled to announce that Flawless, the sequel to Invisible, will be published by Champagne Books February 2010. Woo hoo! More Tavos!
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
From The Top with Jane Toombs
Since I wasn't able to post to this blog for months because I didn't know how, I think maybe the only book and cover from Champagne I succeeded in I succeeded in posting was Once an Outcast which won't be out until May or June. So I thought I'd go back and start withthe first book of mine that Champagne published, my thriller, HIGH RISK. This takes place in the High Sierras in California where a man who will stop at nothing to gain what he wants, along with his men, pursue three women over the mountains. He has a chopper and weapons, the women have nothing but their backpacks and their wits. But, in one backpack, is what he wants. The women are expendable collateral. Before I post an excerpt, I must tell you how glad I am March is here. it's a dirty month in snow country, and undependable, but the ice is gone from Lake Superior, with only bits and pieces floating there now. Robins are here and the mountainous snowbanks now reveal some bare ground, making our calico cat very happy. Us, too, for that matter. The maples are full of bright red buds--spring seems to be sneaking in. Like this excerpt:
High Risk:
Prologue
The take-off roar of a 747 blasted across the tarmac as Clint Hastings
strode through L.A.'s smog-diffused sunlight to the private pad where the small, sleek jet waited.
Keep cool, man, he urged himself as he stifled an impulse to glance behind him. No one from the casino's going to check at the bank for at least two days. Nothing can go wrong.
His skin prickled with unease. As though an invisible being trailed him.
Clint straightened his shoulders. He didn't believe that shit. Anyone with half a brain knew there was nothing in the stories the old men told. Hell, he'd never even heard about invisible watchers until his mother caught up with him and dragged him off to the reservation when he was twelve.
He shifted the heavy suitcase to his left hand and slowed his pace. I'm no more a goddamned Indian that Powers is, he assured himself. Why couldn't the old lady leave well enough alone? She didn't want me when I was born, why'd she expect I'd want any part of her and her people when I grew up?
The pilot stepped from the jet's shadow and approached him, his glance taking in Clint's beige suit, bronze shirt and tie. Poor bastard, Clint thought.
"Nice day for a jump," the pilot said. "You making it in that outfit?"
"You fly this crate," Clint said, "and I'll take care of the rest. Okay?"
The pilot shrugged and turned back toward the jet.
Once they were in the air, Clint unsnapped his safety belt and opened the suitcase. He carefully lifted out an attache case and slid it just as carefully out of sight under the seat. More of Powers' careful elimination of any witness, but bombs made him nervous. He stripped to his shorts and took a jumpsuit from the suitcase. By this time tomorrow there'd be Sara.
He zipped up the jumpsuit. He wanted Sara Powers--God, how he wanted her. The sound of her hesitant voice on the phone yesterday had made him hard right there in the booth. She was so small, so helpless, so elegant. A lady. Randall Power's lady.
His lips curled into a half-smile. He planned to change that. All it took was money. The money would give him Sara. Among other things.
He fastened a thick width of leather around his waist and stared from the jet's window. The smog was far below; the sky was cloudless. Beneath him the Tehachapis leveled off into the great basin of the San Joaquin Valley. He checked his watch. Powers had timed this to the second. In a few minutes he'd tell the pilot the jump would be sooner than planned.
"Don't let him know until you're approaching the Sierras," Powers had said. "Tell him there's a bonus waiting in Reno if he keeps the switch to himself. When the chute deploys, keep your eye out for the yellow X in the meadow. "
Clint nodded. Powers thought of everything.
Everything except me. Powers doesn't have a clue about my plans or about me and Sara. He sat on the edge of the seat, smiling to himself, seeing Sara's blue eyes, her fair hair.
"I wish you wouldn't take these risks," she'd said when she'd called him back three days ago, before she left for the lodge. "What if Floyd tells Randall you called?"
"Floyd didn't recognize my voice."
"You shouldn't have taken the chance. For all I know, Randall monitors every call."
"I doubt that."
Sara sighed. "He doesn't miss much."
"All he can find out is that a man called you and left a phone number. This is a phone booth, Sara. Relax, we took enough chances last fall and never got caught."
"I must have been crazy."
"You drove me crazy. You still do."
Her soft intake of breath ignited him but all she said was, "Randall and I leave for Deerhead Lodge this afternoon."
"Everything's set?"
"Marlyn and Elise are both coming. It'll work out."
The phone had clicked in his ear before he could say anything more.
Clint's smile faded as he checked the .44 Remington magnum in his arm holster. He didn't exactly figure on trouble with Powers but he'd have no qualms about using the gun if he had to. He lifted two large, heavy pouches from the suitcase and unbuckled his thick leather belt to slide them onto it, one to either side, then refastened the parachute harness. Almost like dropping into South America that time, going in loaded.
Had he overlooked anything? The bunch at the casino hadn't a clue, he was sure. To them he was old buddy Clint, a blood brother, returning to the tribe when they needed him. Why should they suspect? Damn it, he'd worked hard to help them get the casino set up and running. Even now, when it was pulling in money hand over fist, he helped out when they asked him.
So they'd find out you can't trust anyone. You'd think Indians--no, what the hell, they were Native Americans now--would know better after undergoing two hundred years of having their faces shoved in shit. He had a slight twinge of guilt about one thing only--his half-brother.
Clint grimaced. He'd tried to sound Frank out, sort of wanting to let him in on it, but his brother was one thick-headed Indian. Once he realized Frank was a complete straight arrow type, he'd shut up, not daring to let him suspect what was going down. You couldn't trust anyone. Not even your brother.
Not even Randall Powers?
With his hand touching the switch on the attache case, Clint hesitated. It wasn't too late to fly on to Reno and forget the jump. Keep the money. Get out of the country. Forget Powers.
That'd mean forgetting Sara, too.
How long would he last with Powers after him? Powers and those types Powers dealt with, men even Powers was polite to. Powers was taking a chance by shafting one of them--Bandini. If Clint Hastings was dumb enough to take all the money, Powers and Bandini would team up and zap--he'd be ashes.
Carrying out Powers' orders was a better shot. And safer. With some modifications in his own favor. Like Sara.
Clint flicked a switch on the attache case. Now there was no turning back. . Jane
Prologue
The take-off roar of a 747 blasted across the tarmac as Clint Hastings
strode through L.A.'s smog-diffused sunlight to the private pad where the small, sleek jet waited.
Keep cool, man, he urged himself as he stifled an impulse to glance behind him. No one from the casino's going to check at the bank for at least two days. Nothing can go wrong.
His skin prickled with unease. As though an invisible being trailed him.
Clint straightened his shoulders. He didn't believe that shit. Anyone with half a brain knew there was nothing in the stories the old men told. Hell, he'd never even heard about invisible watchers until his mother caught up with him and dragged him off to the reservation when he was twelve.
He shifted the heavy suitcase to his left hand and slowed his pace. I'm no more a goddamned Indian that Powers is, he assured himself. Why couldn't the old lady leave well enough alone? She didn't want me when I was born, why'd she expect I'd want any part of her and her people when I grew up?
The pilot stepped from the jet's shadow and approached him, his glance taking in Clint's beige suit, bronze shirt and tie. Poor bastard, Clint thought.
"Nice day for a jump," the pilot said. "You making it in that outfit?"
"You fly this crate," Clint said, "and I'll take care of the rest. Okay?"
The pilot shrugged and turned back toward the jet.
Once they were in the air, Clint unsnapped his safety belt and opened the suitcase. He carefully lifted out an attache case and slid it just as carefully out of sight under the seat. More of Powers' careful elimination of any witness, but bombs made him nervous. He stripped to his shorts and took a jumpsuit from the suitcase. By this time tomorrow there'd be Sara.
He zipped up the jumpsuit. He wanted Sara Powers--God, how he wanted her. The sound of her hesitant voice on the phone yesterday had made him hard right there in the booth. She was so small, so helpless, so elegant. A lady. Randall Power's lady.
His lips curled into a half-smile. He planned to change that. All it took was money. The money would give him Sara. Among other things.
He fastened a thick width of leather around his waist and stared from the jet's window. The smog was far below; the sky was cloudless. Beneath him the Tehachapis leveled off into the great basin of the San Joaquin Valley. He checked his watch. Powers had timed this to the second. In a few minutes he'd tell the pilot the jump would be sooner than planned.
"Don't let him know until you're approaching the Sierras," Powers had said. "Tell him there's a bonus waiting in Reno if he keeps the switch to himself. When the chute deploys, keep your eye out for the yellow X in the meadow. "
Clint nodded. Powers thought of everything.
Everything except me. Powers doesn't have a clue about my plans or about me and Sara. He sat on the edge of the seat, smiling to himself, seeing Sara's blue eyes, her fair hair.
"I wish you wouldn't take these risks," she'd said when she'd called him back three days ago, before she left for the lodge. "What if Floyd tells Randall you called?"
"Floyd didn't recognize my voice."
"You shouldn't have taken the chance. For all I know, Randall monitors every call."
"I doubt that."
Sara sighed. "He doesn't miss much."
"All he can find out is that a man called you and left a phone number. This is a phone booth, Sara. Relax, we took enough chances last fall and never got caught."
"I must have been crazy."
"You drove me crazy. You still do."
Her soft intake of breath ignited him but all she said was, "Randall and I leave for Deerhead Lodge this afternoon."
"Everything's set?"
"Marlyn and Elise are both coming. It'll work out."
The phone had clicked in his ear before he could say anything more.
Clint's smile faded as he checked the .44 Remington magnum in his arm holster. He didn't exactly figure on trouble with Powers but he'd have no qualms about using the gun if he had to. He lifted two large, heavy pouches from the suitcase and unbuckled his thick leather belt to slide them onto it, one to either side, then refastened the parachute harness. Almost like dropping into South America that time, going in loaded.
Had he overlooked anything? The bunch at the casino hadn't a clue, he was sure. To them he was old buddy Clint, a blood brother, returning to the tribe when they needed him. Why should they suspect? Damn it, he'd worked hard to help them get the casino set up and running. Even now, when it was pulling in money hand over fist, he helped out when they asked him.
So they'd find out you can't trust anyone. You'd think Indians--no, what the hell, they were Native Americans now--would know better after undergoing two hundred years of having their faces shoved in shit. He had a slight twinge of guilt about one thing only--his half-brother.
Clint grimaced. He'd tried to sound Frank out, sort of wanting to let him in on it, but his brother was one thick-headed Indian. Once he realized Frank was a complete straight arrow type, he'd shut up, not daring to let him suspect what was going down. You couldn't trust anyone. Not even your brother.
Not even Randall Powers?
With his hand touching the switch on the attache case, Clint hesitated. It wasn't too late to fly on to Reno and forget the jump. Keep the money. Get out of the country. Forget Powers.
That'd mean forgetting Sara, too.
How long would he last with Powers after him? Powers and those types Powers dealt with, men even Powers was polite to. Powers was taking a chance by shafting one of them--Bandini. If Clint Hastings was dumb enough to take all the money, Powers and Bandini would team up and zap--he'd be ashes.
Carrying out Powers' orders was a better shot. And safer. With some modifications in his own favor. Like Sara.
Clint flicked a switch on the attache case. Now there was no turning back. . Jane
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Breaking news
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
CONTACT INFO:
J. Ellen Smith, Managing Editor
Champagne Books
Box 35069
4604 37 St SW
Calgary, AB Canada T3E 7C7
admin@champagnebooks.com
http://www.champagnebooks.com
Champagne Books Announces Book Clubs
www.champagnebooks.com/book club.htm
March 22, 2009 – Champagne Books is pleased to announce the release of two exciting new book clubs for our readers.
For our readers who prefer to read electronically, our Electronic Book Club is now available for subscription. Readers receive four books each month for the low price of $12.00. This includes two new releases per month, and two alternate books. Ebooks will be billed monthly, and sent to the reader's inbox, in pdf format (default format) approximately five days before the official release date.
For our readers who still prefer the feeling of a paperback in their hands, our book club allows them to receive one new-to-print book per month, and one other book. Books will be billed monthly and will ship at month end. All books are perfect bound, trade paperbacks. $20.00 +6.50 shipping.
Print club members may also receive bookmarks, postcards and other assorted goodies in their packages.
Readers and prospective authors may read more about Champagne Books on the website. Submission Guidelines available online.
For information: http://www.champagnebooks.com
Contact: J. Ellen Smith, Publisher
admin@champagnebooks.com
or Kat Hall, Executive Assistant
kat@champagnebooks.com
CONTACT INFO:
J. Ellen Smith, Managing Editor
Champagne Books
Box 35069
4604 37 St SW
Calgary, AB Canada T3E 7C7
admin@champagnebooks.com
http://www.champagnebooks.com
Champagne Books Announces Book Clubs
www.champagnebooks.com/book club.htm
March 22, 2009 – Champagne Books is pleased to announce the release of two exciting new book clubs for our readers.
For our readers who prefer to read electronically, our Electronic Book Club is now available for subscription. Readers receive four books each month for the low price of $12.00. This includes two new releases per month, and two alternate books. Ebooks will be billed monthly, and sent to the reader's inbox, in pdf format (default format) approximately five days before the official release date.
For our readers who still prefer the feeling of a paperback in their hands, our book club allows them to receive one new-to-print book per month, and one other book. Books will be billed monthly and will ship at month end. All books are perfect bound, trade paperbacks. $20.00 +6.50 shipping.
Print club members may also receive bookmarks, postcards and other assorted goodies in their packages.
Readers and prospective authors may read more about Champagne Books on the website. Submission Guidelines available online.
For information: http://www.champagnebooks.com
Contact: J. Ellen Smith, Publisher
admin@champagnebooks.com
or Kat Hall, Executive Assistant
kat@champagnebooks.com
Monday, March 23, 2009
WHEN DO YOU KNOW?
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WHEN DO YOU KNOW?
I’ve always been interested in how other authors write a book, but when do you know to end it? Whether it’s ending a chapter or the magic words THE END, the point where the break comes is vital to snagging and keeping the reader’s interest. Since I write by the seat of my pants, the chapter ending usually is not planned, but suddenly leaps up from nowhere to slap me in the face with an aha moment. It’s as if the characters decide on their own how much suspense should lie in wait for unsuspecting reader. I read that once the story has been told the writer and characters should skeddadle as quickly as possible. To my mind lingering is sheer torture for everyone concerned.
When do you know your characters have taken off with the flourish and level of wisdom you desire? Sometimes it’s evident by the end of the first chapter, but I find I can be well into a story before I realize the characters are only now showing their true colors. Then my inclination is not to change them to fit my needs but to let them have their head and use their personalities to my own benefit in the rewrite.
When do you know your writing has provided the sustenance that will feed your creativity for some time to come? Simple for me…it’s when a reader hounds me to know the release date of my next novel.
As always, I appreciate comments on what works for you.
Strong, smart, sensuous heroines; heroes to die for.
Carol McPhee: http://www.geocities.com/carolmcphee2003
Friday, March 20, 2009
***Happy Spring!***
As today is officially the 1st day of Spring, thought I'd share a little trivia I found on the net... On the first day of spring, the hours of daylight and of darkness are equal.
Around March 21st, the earth's position in its orbit around the sun places its equator in line with the sun. This time period is called the "vernal equinox" and is the first day of spring in the Northern Hemisphere. "Vernal" means spring and "equinox" means equal.
The ancient Greeks celebrated Mother's Day in spring.
The ancient Greeks celebrated Mother's Day in spring.
The ancient Greeks celebrated Rhea, "Mother of the Gods," with honey-cakes, beverages, and flowers at dawn--the earliest known Mother's Day celebration.
Finding a four-leaf clover is thought to bring you good luck.
Four-leaf clovers are thought to bring good luck, but there's no scientific evidence to support that claim.
The area along the California-Oregon border, is known as the "Easter Lily Capital of the World."
An area along the California and Oregon border produces 95 percent of all bulbs grown in the world for the potted Easter lily market. They produce more than 11 million bulbs annually.
Baby birds must learn how to sing.
Though baby birds are born with the ability to sing, they must learn the songs of their species. An isolated baby bird will learn simple songs, but not the complex songs of its species. A bird must hear in order to learn. Only a few birds can sing the songs of other species. The mockingbird seems to be the best at imitating the songs of other birds.
Finding a four-leaf clover is thought to bring you good luck.
Four-leaf clovers are thought to bring good luck, but there's no scientific evidence to support that claim.
The area along the California-Oregon border, is known as the "Easter Lily Capital of the World."
An area along the California and Oregon border produces 95 percent of all bulbs grown in the world for the potted Easter lily market. They produce more than 11 million bulbs annually.
Baby birds must learn how to sing.
Though baby birds are born with the ability to sing, they must learn the songs of their species. An isolated baby bird will learn simple songs, but not the complex songs of its species. A bird must hear in order to learn. Only a few birds can sing the songs of other species. The mockingbird seems to be the best at imitating the songs of other birds.
Arbor Day, which encourages the planting of trees and celebrates the role trees play in the environment, is traditionally celebrated on the last Monday in April.
Arbor Day is traditionally celebrated on the last Monday in April; however, each state can select its own date, depending on weather conditions. The first Arbor Day Celebration was held on April 10, 1872 in Nebraska.
Spring Fever is a real physical condition.
Spring Fever is a real physical condition which commonly occurs when a sudden warm spell follows a long cold period. When the temperature rises, the body has to get rid of heat; thus there's a dilation or expansion of the blood vessels so that blood can be carried to the body surface where heat can be lost quickly. Some people experience an energetic feeling when this change happens due to the body's reaction to the great amount of internal work going on.
An emerald represents spring.
An emerald represents spring, rebirth, hope, peace, and tranquility.
An emerald represents spring.
An emerald represents spring, rebirth, hope, peace, and tranquility.
William Wordsworth wrote a famous poem about daffodils.
William Wordsworth wrote the poem, "I Wandered Lonely As a Cloud," which was about yellow daffodils.
I have several projects in the works...currently captivated by a series laced with magic, lust, hot heroes and willful heroines; as well as sitting on a few semi-finished works. I say semi as I like to set my manuscripts off to the side when I've finished the first few drafts, work on something else, then go back over them with fresh eyes.
Until then, you can read my first 3 novels available in both e-book and print via http://www.champagnebooks.com/:
Amulet of Fate
Once A Rebel (Book 1 in the Orphan Train series)
Corsair Cove
Until next time, Happy Spring!!
Angie
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Fear of Book Signings
Last month, I worked up the nerve to visit my local Chapters bookstore to inquire about selling my book on consignment. I took my one remaining copy of Bad Ice, a typed press release and a letter of introduction with me. I packaged the whole thing in a pocket folder with a dark blue marble pattern that looks like the scarred surface of a pond on a cold Canadian day.
The consignment manager wasn't in, but another manager was kind enough to take my kit and give me information. She flipped through the book, inspected the back and asked if it was fiction. I assured her it was, and pointed out the press release containing a blurb and the two reviews I had received so far. *Note to self: beg for more reviews*
She apparently liked what she saw and suggested I coordinate the consignment and my upcoming newspaper profile with a book signing.
My heart lurched at the mention of a book signing. She must have seen the fear in my eyes and assured me, "Oh, it's easy. Our schedule isn't too full and you can book it a couple of weeks in advance. We put a table right at the front and put up some posters."
I've seen the posters. I've also read horrifying accounts of authors left sitting by themselves with hordes of shoppers avoiding eye contact. I've also heard about signings when the author only brought twenty books and a hundred people showed up. What to do?
I asked, "What comes first, the chicken or the egg? Do I get the newspaper article out first and then schedule the signing?"
She suggested I make the signing shortly after the newspaper article. Many authors have had profiles in the local paper but hadn't bothered to informe the bookstore. When their customers came in asking for the books, the poor staff had no idea what they were talking about.
My other dilemma is book supply. Since Chapters has a strict ordering protocol, I still haven't seen Bad Ice on their database. Therefore it is up to me to supply the books. So I'll show up with as many copies as I can afford and hope they don't take a huge cut. It looks like I'll be paying to allow my readers to enjoy Bad Ice.
Hmm.... maybe I can write it off in my taxes as a loss. At least local readers will be able to read a book with a familiar setting. Plus, if I get lots of inquiries, Chapters might put Bad Ice on their online database.
Back to my story: I waited and waited for my newspaper editor to tell me when they'd interview me for my book. After a few weeks, I asked the reporter in charge what I should do. She said she was waiting for me to tell her when I was having the book signing! Being in the communication business isn't all it's cracked up to be.
Okay... back to the phones. I called the Event Manager and booked a signing for April 11th (Easter Weekend). Then I informed the editorial department and we have an lunch interview scheduled for Tuesday.
At first I thought a signing on Easter Weekend would be a disaster, but think about it - all those people suffering from Good Friday shopper withdrawal will flock to Chapters. Uh, right?
"All right, Mr. De Mille, I'm ready for my close-up."
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
What I like about epublishing
I've been deep in thought today. That's pretty serious for me since I'm known as an air-head sometimes. heeheee But something happened last night (which I won't go into) that made me start comparing the electronic publishers versus the big NY publishers. Now, I've never been with the big publishers, but for the past eight years, I've been with the smaller presses, so I don't have a lot to compare, just with what I've heard. I've heard that if you're published with one of the NY publishers, your book has a shelf-life of only six weeks. Yikes! That's not a lot. Are the books available after that through the publisher or bookstores? I don't know, but that bothers me. Yet, when one of my books comes available with Champagne Books, my books are available for THREE years! But, if the publisher wishes, they can extend the contract. Not very often do I hear that happening with the big publishers. Most of my books with Champagne Books have been extended. That's a cool thing. All my books are available in PRINT through Amazon or Barnes & Noble. That's a plus, too! Besides that...my books are also available electronically. Haven't you heard? The big guys are jumping on the electronic train and coming along for the ride. That's even better, right?
So, with that being said...I'm very proud to be a Champagne Books author! Let me tell you about my latest Champagne release, Kisses Of Fire...
She needs money for her bar, he seeks incriminating evidence to close her. Will the auction be the key, or will her kisses turn his loins to fire?
Cassidy Hilarion needs money to save her bar…hoping auctioning off her waitresses and herself for a night of pleasure might do the trick. How can she protect her heart when a gorgeous hottie bids on her and all she wants to do is kiss him…endlessly.
Mark Carrington is on a mission—to find some incriminating evidence to help his father close down the bar. For years, the Carrington’s have tried to get this land from the Hilarion’s, and Mark is determined to win. But when he gets to know the sexy co-owner he wants more than the bar. He wants her body and soul.
4.5 Hearts!! Ms. Phyllis Campbell has written a very interesting, fast-paced book about instant attraction between two would-be enemies. She created two main characters that were self-motivated and determined to be successful. The sexual encounters were scorching and very well told. The book should be a success. I recommend that all who are interested in romance and sex read this book. ~~ Brenda Talley / The Romance Studio
Click to purchase as ebook
Click to purchase print
~Phyllis~
So, with that being said...I'm very proud to be a Champagne Books author! Let me tell you about my latest Champagne release, Kisses Of Fire...
She needs money for her bar, he seeks incriminating evidence to close her. Will the auction be the key, or will her kisses turn his loins to fire?
Cassidy Hilarion needs money to save her bar…hoping auctioning off her waitresses and herself for a night of pleasure might do the trick. How can she protect her heart when a gorgeous hottie bids on her and all she wants to do is kiss him…endlessly.
Mark Carrington is on a mission—to find some incriminating evidence to help his father close down the bar. For years, the Carrington’s have tried to get this land from the Hilarion’s, and Mark is determined to win. But when he gets to know the sexy co-owner he wants more than the bar. He wants her body and soul.
4.5 Hearts!! Ms. Phyllis Campbell has written a very interesting, fast-paced book about instant attraction between two would-be enemies. She created two main characters that were self-motivated and determined to be successful. The sexual encounters were scorching and very well told. The book should be a success. I recommend that all who are interested in romance and sex read this book. ~~ Brenda Talley / The Romance Studio
Click to purchase as ebook
Click to purchase print
~Phyllis~
Monday, March 16, 2009
Wicked Redemption now in print!
I’ve been shouting this all over the Internet, and I’ll say it again here. Wicked Redemption is now available in print! This was a very special book for me, in that writing it didn’t feel like real work. Not sure why. Perhaps because it contains all the paranormal elements I love, ghosts, goblins, things that go bump in the night. So to celebrate, I thought I’d post an excerpt:
Not again.
Water clogged his lungs making breathing impossible. Not quite pain, an ache as deep as earth, like someone gutting him from the inside out with a spoon. A roaring in his ears replaced sound, coupled with sounds of movement, muffled and sluggish. All around him was just a murky void. Inhaling only produced more choking.
He would not die, would never die. A certainty. And that was worse than any pain.
Trapped underwater forever.
Realization defied logic, and panic was almost instantaneous. Heartbeat tripped double-time, lodging in his throat to choke and suffocate. How long would the torture last? Could be hours, days, even centuries? The stronger he fought, the more they liked it.
The man tried to concentrate on something to steer his mind away from the growing hysteria. Something to focus on, something to draw strength from.
Why couldn’t he remember what always kept him in control?
Fruitless as it was the man struggled against the torment. Instinct breathed in again, only to inhale lungs full of water.
Drowning was a new suffering. The usual torture involved burning. The exact details of the punishments were lost, save for the smell of charred flesh and the pain. He would never forget the pain. Again, he tried to concentrate on the motivation to endure the agony and control hysteria, but he couldn’t remember what that something was.
The man moved his legs, surprised to discover they weren’t bound. Not really anyway. Something was wrapped around them, restrictive but allowing considerable movement. The same material was wrapped around his head, shoulders, and arms, loose enough to allow enough movement for awkward swimming.
The man kicked hard, breached the surface, threw back his head and inhaled a breath of sweet, intoxicating oxygen. It filled his lungs, raced into his brain, through his bloodstream and into his extremities. He tread water, breathed again and again, each exhale steaming against the cold. Chills racked his body, but it did not matter. Air equaled life. With life, hope.
The sky was a backdrop of gold and pink along the shoreline. Lights from homes dotted the edge of the water tike tiny lanterns in an Asian festival. Those who tormented him would come for him…if they weren’t already here. Maybe they lived in one of those houses. Maybe they were ever-present all around. He really had no idea.
He cast away the heavy, plastic-like material that had bound him and swam. Who was tormenting him? And why? No use; his mind was a blank slate. Thankfully, his persecutors didn’t seem to be here. There was no movement whatsoever in the near distance. No sound except the ripple of water against his body. A definite contradiction to what was going on inside him.
Ice cold water caused uncontrollable spasms. His arms and legs turned numb; blood flow slowed to a crawl through his veins. Questions screamed in his mind, but were pushed back to concentrate on moving forward, propelling himself toward the shore as fast as possible, even though each movement was like carrying dead weight. The shore was visible but still so far away. If he didn’t reach it…death.
Never death.
Correction: If he didn’t reach the shore…torture. The realization that death might be as imminent as the frigid water. Dying would always be out of reach. A dream coveted for so long it seemed like forever. Had to be something, someone, a reason to hold fast to life. Nothing. It was as if memory was as black, as cold as the water. No past, no future.
What did it matter if he died?
Oh, and did I mention Wicked Redemption is #4 on Champagne Books’ bestseller list? So what are you waiting for? Go get your copy! :)
Purchase Wicked Redemption here:
http://www.champagnebooks.com/books/index.php?main_page=advanced_search_result&search_in_description=1&keyword=wicked+redemption
~ Nancy
http://www.nancyhenderson.com
http://www.nancyhenderson.blogspot.com
Not again.
Water clogged his lungs making breathing impossible. Not quite pain, an ache as deep as earth, like someone gutting him from the inside out with a spoon. A roaring in his ears replaced sound, coupled with sounds of movement, muffled and sluggish. All around him was just a murky void. Inhaling only produced more choking.
He would not die, would never die. A certainty. And that was worse than any pain.
Trapped underwater forever.
Realization defied logic, and panic was almost instantaneous. Heartbeat tripped double-time, lodging in his throat to choke and suffocate. How long would the torture last? Could be hours, days, even centuries? The stronger he fought, the more they liked it.
The man tried to concentrate on something to steer his mind away from the growing hysteria. Something to focus on, something to draw strength from.
Why couldn’t he remember what always kept him in control?
Fruitless as it was the man struggled against the torment. Instinct breathed in again, only to inhale lungs full of water.
Drowning was a new suffering. The usual torture involved burning. The exact details of the punishments were lost, save for the smell of charred flesh and the pain. He would never forget the pain. Again, he tried to concentrate on the motivation to endure the agony and control hysteria, but he couldn’t remember what that something was.
The man moved his legs, surprised to discover they weren’t bound. Not really anyway. Something was wrapped around them, restrictive but allowing considerable movement. The same material was wrapped around his head, shoulders, and arms, loose enough to allow enough movement for awkward swimming.
The man kicked hard, breached the surface, threw back his head and inhaled a breath of sweet, intoxicating oxygen. It filled his lungs, raced into his brain, through his bloodstream and into his extremities. He tread water, breathed again and again, each exhale steaming against the cold. Chills racked his body, but it did not matter. Air equaled life. With life, hope.
The sky was a backdrop of gold and pink along the shoreline. Lights from homes dotted the edge of the water tike tiny lanterns in an Asian festival. Those who tormented him would come for him…if they weren’t already here. Maybe they lived in one of those houses. Maybe they were ever-present all around. He really had no idea.
He cast away the heavy, plastic-like material that had bound him and swam. Who was tormenting him? And why? No use; his mind was a blank slate. Thankfully, his persecutors didn’t seem to be here. There was no movement whatsoever in the near distance. No sound except the ripple of water against his body. A definite contradiction to what was going on inside him.
Ice cold water caused uncontrollable spasms. His arms and legs turned numb; blood flow slowed to a crawl through his veins. Questions screamed in his mind, but were pushed back to concentrate on moving forward, propelling himself toward the shore as fast as possible, even though each movement was like carrying dead weight. The shore was visible but still so far away. If he didn’t reach it…death.
Never death.
Correction: If he didn’t reach the shore…torture. The realization that death might be as imminent as the frigid water. Dying would always be out of reach. A dream coveted for so long it seemed like forever. Had to be something, someone, a reason to hold fast to life. Nothing. It was as if memory was as black, as cold as the water. No past, no future.
What did it matter if he died?
Oh, and did I mention Wicked Redemption is #4 on Champagne Books’ bestseller list? So what are you waiting for? Go get your copy! :)
Purchase Wicked Redemption here:
http://www.champagnebooks.com/books/index.php?main_page=advanced_search_result&search_in_description=1&keyword=wicked+redemption
~ Nancy
http://www.nancyhenderson.com
http://www.nancyhenderson.blogspot.com
Saturday, March 14, 2009
I Have a Dream!
Many people ask how I (as a writer) come up with my ideas for stories and longer works. I do have a list I've created (and continue to add to) which I refer to when trying to come up with themes for my short stories. My longer works sometimes will follow that same process.
But my favorite works usually come from dreams.
Heroes Die Young was actually one of those pieces. The end of the first chapter actually came from a dream I'd had in which someone was running to escape an exploding ship. When I woke up, I began writing down what I'd seen, and from there began asking myself all sorts of questions about what I'd seen.
For example, what was he doing on the ship? Why was the ship (and Aston) there in the first place? Why was the ship exploding? Who was trying to destroy the ship and why?
As you can tell, the answers to these questions spawned even more questions and answers. All of them received answers, until the formulation for the entire manuscript started to take shape.
Obviously, some changes had to take place from the original dream to the manuscript, including the addition of the mystery stowaway, and the ship not exploding until Aston was already away from the derelict. But overall, the dream was the key.
And not to give anything away, but a scene from my next manuscript, Friends in Deed, was also spawned from a dream.
***
But my favorite works usually come from dreams.
Heroes Die Young was actually one of those pieces. The end of the first chapter actually came from a dream I'd had in which someone was running to escape an exploding ship. When I woke up, I began writing down what I'd seen, and from there began asking myself all sorts of questions about what I'd seen.
For example, what was he doing on the ship? Why was the ship (and Aston) there in the first place? Why was the ship exploding? Who was trying to destroy the ship and why?
As you can tell, the answers to these questions spawned even more questions and answers. All of them received answers, until the formulation for the entire manuscript started to take shape.
Obviously, some changes had to take place from the original dream to the manuscript, including the addition of the mystery stowaway, and the ship not exploding until Aston was already away from the derelict. But overall, the dream was the key.
And not to give anything away, but a scene from my next manuscript, Friends in Deed, was also spawned from a dream.
***
T. M. Hunter (posting under his ever-popular Aston West moniker) is the author of Heroes Die Young, the latest science-fiction (space opera) sensation from Champagne Books. His Aston West short stories have been featured in the e-mag Ray Gun Revival with his short story "Little White Truths" a top ten finisher in the 2007 Preditors and Editors Readers' Poll. Heroes Die Young is currently nominated for Best-Selling Novel of 2008 over at Champagne Books. He (and Aston) can often be found over at AstonWest.com.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Essence of Time
Most know I teach and each day brings something new to the table. On Monday, a student whom I don't even teach came by the room and wanted to interview me about the 1980s for a school project. "Sure, come on in, and I'll do my best."
I'm still chuckling. I had to cheat. Yes, I had to resort to looking at a 1980 timetable to jog my memory. After the interview, which consisted of things like what did I wear, what were my favorite TV shows, what historical event did I remember and how did it affect me, etc., she asked me for photographs. "Um, sure. Come back tomorrow."
I went home, searched the photo albums for about an hour before I came up with 4 photos I thought would work. I chose one (pictured above) because it showed the style of jeans we wore, one for the length of dresses we wore, one for the hair styles back then and the last because it showed my huge glasses. Even then, I was really hurting to find photos that showed a notable difference between now and the 1980s.
Sure, there are big differences but only if you're really into style and fashion. I basically dress the same and arrange my hair the same as I did in 1985. Wow. So I'm style challenged I guess. But my point is that if you're doing a historical or a story set in a time period different from the present, you have to capture the essence of that period and really pay attention to the subtle and not so subtle differences.
My coming release (August 2009) is a Viking time travel. The first part of the book is set in 2024. I had to visualize what the subtle changes might be for that time period. Yes, I hunted websites for info on the next up and coming technological advancement but even then who's to say exactly what will exist and what won't. And how 'bout the laws? How will society as a whole evolve? I get shivers thinking about it. My grandmother lived to be 101. That's a century of change. Just think how much change she did witness from 1906 until her death. The essence of time is a fleeting novelty, one that's either very difficult to pinpoint or a snap to capture. Some historicals come easily for the author because the facts are fairly well documented, but some time periods still have mysteries left to be solved, questions left to be answered.
By the way, I do apologize for posting late. Time slipped by before I remembered.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Answers I Would Love To Give
I’ve been published in romance for a long time now, and frequently speak at conferences and book signings. People who discover I’m a published author ask questions about the business, and I try to answer their questions with an appropriate response. But, there are some questions that have me gritting my teeth. So, here are the answers I’d really like to give!
The question first and then my ‘I wish I could say that’ response.
1. Why don’t you write a real book? To which I would love to respond, “Oh, you mean like Jane Austin, or maybe Charles Dickens, who were considered authors of pulp fiction in their day, or maybe Nora Roberts who has sold more than 35 million books.”
2. How much money do you make? To which I would love to respond, “How much do you make?”
3. Do you try all the stuff in those bedroom scenes? To which I would love to respond, “Do I look like a sex goddess? Or – Would you like to ask my husband?”
4. I have this great story. If I tell you all about it, would you write it and split the profits with me? To which I would love to respond, “Did you know you can find ghost writers on the internet you can hire?”
5. I know I can write a book. It can’t be too hard. To which I would love to respond, “Then why don’t you try it.”
AND the best one of all!
6. Aren’t you ashamed of writing all that sexy stuff? To which I would love to respond,
“You mean there is something wrong with sex and talking about it?”
As an author, what’s your favorite teeth-grinding question?
The question first and then my ‘I wish I could say that’ response.
1. Why don’t you write a real book? To which I would love to respond, “Oh, you mean like Jane Austin, or maybe Charles Dickens, who were considered authors of pulp fiction in their day, or maybe Nora Roberts who has sold more than 35 million books.”
2. How much money do you make? To which I would love to respond, “How much do you make?”
3. Do you try all the stuff in those bedroom scenes? To which I would love to respond, “Do I look like a sex goddess? Or – Would you like to ask my husband?”
4. I have this great story. If I tell you all about it, would you write it and split the profits with me? To which I would love to respond, “Did you know you can find ghost writers on the internet you can hire?”
5. I know I can write a book. It can’t be too hard. To which I would love to respond, “Then why don’t you try it.”
AND the best one of all!
6. Aren’t you ashamed of writing all that sexy stuff? To which I would love to respond,
“You mean there is something wrong with sex and talking about it?”
As an author, what’s your favorite teeth-grinding question?
Monday, March 9, 2009
In Between The Tick And The Tock
There was this scene in the series "Babylon 5" where the main character was suspended in time. They were between the "tick" and the "tock". I'm appreciating the feeling right now, for, as a writer, I find myself in the same position.Yesterday, I finished a year-long work called "Rogue Dancer". It is the sequel to my first novel "Blade Dancer". I have been living and breathing with my characters on almost a daily basis. My wife and I took the entire weekend to perform a final review ahead of the submission process. I feel like a wrung out sponge.
Tick.
Today, I am looking at...nothing. The manuscript is gone hunting for a home with Champagne Books.
Tock.
Ahead of me is the third in the "Dancer" series. A list of ideas, events, and vague concepts that chart out my characters and their futures. It may be enough for one book, or perhaps two. My wife and I will soon be sitting down and doing a series of bread-boarding out of which will come a chapter outline. But that's ahead of me. I don't even know what the book title will be - though it is a sure bet it will have something to do with dancing (grin).
But I'm not there yet. I'm in between where you see me looking at nothing. Got some shrubs that need planting. Visit the in-laws. Start playing a few games on the computer for once. Between the tick and the tock.
Maybe I'll finally pet the cat or something before those voices come calling again.
Kerry
www.kmtolan.com
Tempus Fugit
It is quite remarkable how quickly time passes. It seems like only yesterday that I received the wonderful news that Champagne Books agreed to publish The Gender Divide. First edits came and went and just last week I received the Advance Reader Copy for final review.
I've spent most of the weekend re-reading The Gender Divide. I had read through it once already during the first edit but I still enjoy reading it. Admittedly, I am biased but I am also the first to be critical. In fact I have to restrain myself from making changes that I know aren't really needed except in my own mind.
I thought that I would share a small snippet from the novel, one of my (many) favorite scenes. I hope you like it as much as I do. Enjoy.
Posted by: David Boultbee
I've spent most of the weekend re-reading The Gender Divide. I had read through it once already during the first edit but I still enjoy reading it. Admittedly, I am biased but I am also the first to be critical. In fact I have to restrain myself from making changes that I know aren't really needed except in my own mind.
I thought that I would share a small snippet from the novel, one of my (many) favorite scenes. I hope you like it as much as I do. Enjoy.
“We should leave,” Ryan said, rising from the sofa. As if on cue, both the front and the back door crashed in.
Instantly, Ryan launched himself forward, grabbing her, and smashing through the large picture window behind her. The glass gave way with a crash and they were airborne for a few seconds. Nicole braced herself for the landing, but Ryan twisted in midair and as they landed, they rolled, using their momentum to get away from the house and into the open.
Nicole felt an instant of panic as the curtains tangled around them, blocking her vision and hindering her movement, but it passed as the curtains parted like wet paper towel under their combined efforts. She dropped the tattered remnants and looked around in surprise. They were still alone on the front lawn and she looked at Ryan breathlessly.
“What was that about?”
“I don’t know how many of them there are, but I’m sure they’ll outnumber us. The only way we can make it out of this is if we fight as a team. We can’t do that effectively in the cramped confines of the house so…” He shrugged as he scanned the grounds visually and his eyes glazed over as he linked into something, likely his air car. A few moments later, his eyes cleared as he confirmed her guess.
“I just linked to the scanner in my air car and it looks like there’s an even dozen of them. From what I can tell, only two of them have enhancements, probably the team leaders.”
Nicole felt panic wash over her again as she considered the odds. Ryan must have sensed it since he turned to her and grinned tightly.
“It’s not as bad as it sounds. Most people, enhanced or not, aren’t as trained as we are. We faced this all the time in the military. This is a typical example of a team that looks good on paper, but it takes more than numbers or enhancement to make it work. It takes training and teamwork. It’s not going to be easy, but we can do it.”
“But?”
Ryan laughed a short, bitter bark.
“Well I started jamming communications, but they might have called for reinforcements earlier. I put in a call for some reinforcements myself, but I don't know if they'll get here in time.”
Nicole bit her lip as she considered this. Even as she did, figures began emerging from around the sides of the house. “Would it do any good to call the police?” she asked as she instinctively assumed a combat stance, her back to Ryan’s.
“No offense, but most of the police are females. Not only that, but technically we are in the wrong here.”
Nicole sensed he was about to say something else, but their assailants had finished gathering, and they headed towards Ryan and Nicole in a headlong rush.
Posted by: David Boultbee
Friday, March 6, 2009
Digital Versus Print Publishing: In Honor of 'Read an E-book Week'
In honor of Read an E-book Week, I thought I would share some rather startling statistics about the publishing industry and the recent problems being experienced by some of the most well known traditional print publishers and booksellers.
According to a February 12 article in US and World News, "Declining sales have forced major book publishers to severely cut back on staffing and drop many of their regular authors. Once considered a dirty little secret of the publishing industry, vanity presses and self-publishers like Nautilus Press, a division of the Nautilus Works, are undergoing a renaissance as authors search for new homes and alternatives to large, corporate-owned publishing houses.”
In mid-February, HarperCollins announced a layoff of employees and the dissolution of several imprints: the nonfiction Collins, children’s literature Bowen Press, Latino books Rayo, and African-American books Amistad. The cuts were due to a reported steep drop in earnings.
Barnes & Noble, the popular nationwide print bookstore, announced this week that it is buying Fictionwise, one of the leading online purveyors of electronic books. B&N will also start a new online bookstore exclusively for e-book sales. This move is largely in response to the continuing failures in the print publishing industry and the decline of print book sales.
Borders Group Inc. announced just yesterday that it is laying off nearly 3% of its workforce, or 742 employees. Perhaps this reduction is due to its early support of electronic publishing and later recanting of this strategy, which left Borders behind the eight ball in the industry.
The good news? E-book publishing and e-books in general are the wave of the future and only increasing in popularity. Publishers of all types are recognizing the great potential, lower cost, and abbreviated turnaround times for producing electronic books. PR Web claims “The traditional book publishing industry is in the doldrums, but sales of e-books are up sharply”.
Publishing-Industry Network states in their March 18, 2007 article, “Books as we know them are dead”.
Amazon is now making e-book downloads available on iPhones as well as Apple’s iPod Touch – great news for those multi-taskers who like one device to perform a variety of functions.
The biggest offering at the world’s largest IT fair, CeBIT, currently being held in Hanover, Germany: e-book readers. Electronics companies are scrambling to produce devices that compete with Amazon’s Kindle 2. Digital publishing consultant Ralf Alkenbrechen states that “the evolution toward virtual books is ‘inevitable’,” with a note to publishers: “by refusing to sell books in an electronic form, you would only push consumers toward breaking the law” (http://www.google.com/hostednews/afp/article/ALeqM5jEVpCXy4_u3JKgA4PYGxXJt-rwDg).
Hearst Corporation, media giant and parent company of Cosmopolitan, Good Housekeeping, and the now-defunct San Francisco Chronicle as well as other struggling newspapers, has plans to release its own e-book reading device later this year. With so many of its print publications barely hanging or failing outright, this decision to jump on the e-book bandwagon is surely motivated by an effort to stay alive in the current economy.
In a CNN article, the Pendergrast brothers, owners of Fictionwise, made a statement that their decision to sell out to B&N was motivated by the fact that “the [e-book] business is exploding and we needed to partner with a corporation that could provide us with necessary firepower.” Five million e-book titles is the estimate of company sales and “the single largest category is romance, which he said now accounts for 50% of all sales”.
What does this all mean? It means that e-books are soon going to overtake print books in terms of availability, popularity, and method of publishing. And it means that small publishers like Champagne Books are poised to do more than compete with the big New York companies – they will replace them.
Candace Morehouse
www.candacemorehouse.com
www.romancesuspensenovels.com
According to a February 12 article in US and World News, "Declining sales have forced major book publishers to severely cut back on staffing and drop many of their regular authors. Once considered a dirty little secret of the publishing industry, vanity presses and self-publishers like Nautilus Press, a division of the Nautilus Works, are undergoing a renaissance as authors search for new homes and alternatives to large, corporate-owned publishing houses.”In mid-February, HarperCollins announced a layoff of employees and the dissolution of several imprints: the nonfiction Collins, children’s literature Bowen Press, Latino books Rayo, and African-American books Amistad. The cuts were due to a reported steep drop in earnings.
Barnes & Noble, the popular nationwide print bookstore, announced this week that it is buying Fictionwise, one of the leading online purveyors of electronic books. B&N will also start a new online bookstore exclusively for e-book sales. This move is largely in response to the continuing failures in the print publishing industry and the decline of print book sales.
Borders Group Inc. announced just yesterday that it is laying off nearly 3% of its workforce, or 742 employees. Perhaps this reduction is due to its early support of electronic publishing and later recanting of this strategy, which left Borders behind the eight ball in the industry.
The good news? E-book publishing and e-books in general are the wave of the future and only increasing in popularity. Publishers of all types are recognizing the great potential, lower cost, and abbreviated turnaround times for producing electronic books. PR Web claims “The traditional book publishing industry is in the doldrums, but sales of e-books are up sharply”.
Publishing-Industry Network states in their March 18, 2007 article, “Books as we know them are dead”.
Amazon is now making e-book downloads available on iPhones as well as Apple’s iPod Touch – great news for those multi-taskers who like one device to perform a variety of functions.
The biggest offering at the world’s largest IT fair, CeBIT, currently being held in Hanover, Germany: e-book readers. Electronics companies are scrambling to produce devices that compete with Amazon’s Kindle 2. Digital publishing consultant Ralf Alkenbrechen states that “the evolution toward virtual books is ‘inevitable’,” with a note to publishers: “by refusing to sell books in an electronic form, you would only push consumers toward breaking the law” (http://www.google.com/hostednews/afp/article/ALeqM5jEVpCXy4_u3JKgA4PYGxXJt-rwDg).
Hearst Corporation, media giant and parent company of Cosmopolitan, Good Housekeeping, and the now-defunct San Francisco Chronicle as well as other struggling newspapers, has plans to release its own e-book reading device later this year. With so many of its print publications barely hanging or failing outright, this decision to jump on the e-book bandwagon is surely motivated by an effort to stay alive in the current economy.
In a CNN article, the Pendergrast brothers, owners of Fictionwise, made a statement that their decision to sell out to B&N was motivated by the fact that “the [e-book] business is exploding and we needed to partner with a corporation that could provide us with necessary firepower.” Five million e-book titles is the estimate of company sales and “the single largest category is romance, which he said now accounts for 50% of all sales”.
What does this all mean? It means that e-books are soon going to overtake print books in terms of availability, popularity, and method of publishing. And it means that small publishers like Champagne Books are poised to do more than compete with the big New York companies – they will replace them.
Candace Morehouse
www.candacemorehouse.com
www.romancesuspensenovels.com
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Writing Retreat in the Davis Mountains
Years ago my husband and I lived in Alpine, Texas. While there I was unable to get a teaching job so took one in Presidio, a small town on the border across the Rio Grande from Ojinaga in Mexico. The drive between Presidio and Alpine was beautiful, and included the scenic overlook on highway 67 between Marfa and Shafter. We returned to Central Texas for six years and then moved back to the West Texas area to Fort Stockton. Some people consider the desert ugly, but my husband and myself find it beautiful. Nothing can compare to the sun rising or setting on the Glass or Davis Mountains. In the spring when the ocotillo bloom, valleys can resemble a red sea set against a turquoise sky.
Since we moved back to the Waco area seven years ago, we've been back to Fort Stockton, Alpine, Fort Davis and the Big Bend area numerous times. It's a wonderful place to commune with nature and relax.
While living in the area, I joined Texas Mountain Trail Writers, a group of area writers who have monthly meetings and a retreat every spring. April 24-26 I'll be attending the retreat at the Paisano Encampment and since my husband is now retired, he'll be joining me for the trip. The affair is always casual, informative, and on Saturday night there is a campfire meal and readings.
Presenters are
Dr. Barney Nelson—Author, Photographer, SRSU Writing Professor
Mike Cox—Author, Journalist, Texas Rangers’ Researcher
Linda LaRoque—Romance Novelist, Internet Marketing
Dr. Barney Nelson—Author, Photographer, SRSU Writing Professor
Mike Cox—Author, Journalist, Texas Rangers’ Researcher
Linda LaRoque—Romance Novelist, Internet Marketing
If you'd like more information, email me at linda@lindalaroque.com/
I'll be taking loads of pictures and will share them with you in another blog post.
Linda
Linda LaRoque ~Western Romance with a Twist in Time~ A Law of Her Own, Forever Faithful. Desires of the Heart, 3-9, My Heart Will Find Yours, 5-9, Flames on the Sky, Investment of the Heart coming 5-9, When the Ocotillo Bloom 7-9.
http://www.lindalaroque.com http://wwww.lindalaroqueauthor.blogspot.com/
http://www.lindalaroque.com http://wwww.lindalaroqueauthor.blogspot.com/
Monday, March 2, 2009
Good Intentions
One of my favorite gifts last Christmas was a journal. The lime green fabric was beautifully embroidered with butterflies and part of a matching 3 piece set including a photo album and a canvas bag with Mom elegantly scripted in silver thread. I loved it and could hardly wait to start writing in it.
New Year's day would've been the perfect time to start. But my husband helped put the Christmas gifts away and... well, sight unseen and I forgot about it. Then when I found it tucked forlornly in a corner of my office closet, it was already mid-January. Not a good time to start a brand new journal.
So I put it next to my chair in the front room fully intending to begin writing in it on Feb. 1st. Not as great as Jan. 1st but better than the middle of a month. Now how was I to know the cat would drag it behind the couch? She must've been after the butterflies. After gluing the loose threads back in place I decided Valentine's Day would be an even better day to start writing in it. Alas, what with company traipsing in and out, that day, too, came and went.
Found it again Feb. 15. In the toy box in the game room. Chocolate fingerprints nearly obscured the butterflies. And one of my darling grandchildren had already started the journal for me in bold, colorful crayon swirls. [That's the difference between kids and grandkids; my child would've been scolded for ruining Mommy's book whereas my grandchild made it more precious.]
So now the journal sits safely on my desk and I faithfully write in it at the end of every day. And unlike the half dozen other journals in a box somewhere, I fully intend to finish this one. Right up to the last page.
Rose Lerma
www.roselerma.com
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