Tall, dark, handsome...and wildly messed up. Writing heroes women want to fix.

Good morning!

Now that I'm approaching my middle years...okay, now that I'm firmly ensconced in the tail end of my middle years, I look back and realize we women of a certain age share an interesting little quirk: Many of us spent years finding a husband, having children, and getting a house.  And now that we have all that, all we want to do is flee from all of them.

I'm not talking about walking out, of course not.  But be honest here ladies.  Don't we all sort of fantasize about a weekend where no one creates dirty laundry, no one leaves empty soda cans and water bottles on the counter and no one leaves dirty dishes all over the house?  That can't possibly be just me!

And yes, we love our husbands.  We adore our husbands.  And there are times we want our husbands to just go fishing/hunting/hiking/out of the country for a short period of time because, and I'm not alone here, we just want to sleep in the bed by ourselves.

Studies have shown that romance novels continue to sell at a ridiculous pace compared to every other kind of novel or book.  Some might think it's a conflict that the women who want their families to just LEAVE THEM ALONE for a couple days are the same people who buy and devour romance novels where the enjoy of the story is always a happily ever after.

I have zero issue accepting this as fact because I love to escape into a book where the hero saves the day and love conquers all.  And I'd like to read that book and have that escape alone, in my perfectly clean house.  I want to watch a romantic comedy and not be teased when I cry at the end.  I want to watch a huge war epic like Pearl Harbor or Titanic and get swept up in the love story without someone yelling, "OH COME ON! HE'S SHOOTING AT THE GUY WHILE THE SHIP IS SINKING?"  (Yeah, I'm talking to you, Bob and Brian at 1029TheHog.  Love your morning show, but I also love those movies.)

But mostly, and I know most of my female readers are going to agree with me on this one, don't we want to read a story where the hero is a work in progress and the woman gets to fix him?  Isn't THAT why we really watch romantic comedies and read romance novels?  We want some super hot wreck of a guy to realize that the only way he's ever going to be human is if he falls in love with some Ordinary Girl? (Love it when I can use a Rick Springfield song title.)


It's no surprise, then, that the heroes in my four romance novels are all works in progress. Take Jesse, the retired rock star, in Dream In Color.  He's a hot mess when it comes to his reputation with women, and even with his music career.  And then he meets Ramona, a full figured girl from Wisconsin.  

Or Bryan, from Lies in Chance. Bryan is definitely messed up, thanks to his ex wife, but he might be my most heroic hero.  He's a lost soul, but he covers pretty well, although he's given up on himself and any self worth he may have.  Enter the very unlikely heiress-murderess-nanny Shara.  There's a girl who needs a hero, and she knows, on a certain level, that it's going to have to be Bryan, no matter how hard he fights the idea.  


Then there's Quinn, from Fresh Ice..  Quinn is possibly the most messed up of my heroes.  I was not kind to Quinn when I wrote this former NHL bad boy.  He's definitely a project any women would want to try and fix, but that's one of his problems"  Quinn is way too attractive for his own good. He's clearly damned, especially in his own mind, although he does his darndest to redeem himself in a thousand ways, no of it holds any meaning for him, until he meets figure skater turned waitress, Izzy.  I had a hard time writing Izzy because I needed someone whose soul was clear enough to save Quinn, but who didn't come off as some sort of weird perfect angel.  I needed Helen Hunt from "As Good as it Gets."  

Finally, there's Collier from A Hero's Spark,, and he's interesting for a romance reader for a couple reasons.  First of all, he's blond.  He's my only blond.  And fun fact, Collier wasn't broken when I started writing him, unlike Jesse, Bryan, and Quinn.  When you first meet

Collier, in Fresh Ice, he's got a good life.  He's a musician, he's doing well, he's happy.  Oh, but he's in love with someone destined to be forever bonded to someone else.  BAM!  Poor Collier...I broke him.  I broke him on purpose because maybe I was in a bad mood.  We writers get that way sometimes.  We do horrible things to our characters just because we can. I broke Collier so bad people told me I HAD to give him a book.  So I did.  But first I broke him a bit more, made him more of a mess.  Then I introduced him to Mira, who was a hot mess all her own.  (I was pretty proud of myself with this book.  I was an equal opportunity mess maker!)



As writers, we do glean a certain perverted pleasure out of breaking our heroes and having the heroines build them back up.  As women, we read that sort of story because in our whole lives we always had a thing for the bad boys we just KNEW we could fix.  And as readers, well, hey, who doesn't want to just escape with someone tall, dark, handsome, and wildly messed up?  Even if it is for an afternoon while the husband and kids are out of the house?

LAST DAY! Get "Lies in Chance" FREE!

Good morning!

Just a friendly reminder, if you own a Kindle and if you like your books FREE, then today, Sunday, is the last day to get "LIES IN CHANCE" free!  

"LIES IN CHANCE"  is a multi character murder mystery with a romance at its heart:

Shara Brandt doesn’t know how she wound up on a creek bank behind a school, miles from home. She doesn’t know who murdered her wealthy, but cruel, grandmother. She does know she has one chance to learn the truth about the murder, clear her name, and leave behind a shadowy past she can’t remember and can’t forget. She adopts the alias “Bethany Elias,” works her way into the hearts of the residents of Rock Harbor, and tries to ignore the way her heart races every time the reclusive Bryan Jacobs comes near her.

Emotionally bruised after his ugly divorce, Bryan trusts no one. He certainly doesn’t trust the beautiful newcomer, Bethany. He knows she’s hiding something, and he is determined to expose her secret. To do so, however, he must lie to her, and himself, about his motives…and the feelings stirring deep within him each time he sees Bethany. 

It is their search for truth that will bind them together or shatter their lives forever, but only if they are willing to take a chance.

"LIES IN CHANCE"  is, for me, one of those books every author writes because they must.  It's the story of my heart.  I love those people in Rock Harbor.  I grew up with them, and it's my joy to share them with you.

I've made much of the fact that three of my novels, "LIES IN CHANCE," "FRESH ICE," and "A HERO'S SPARK" are part of a series.  Truth is, many of the same characters wind their way through the books, and yes, my villains are all WICKED WOMEN, but each book can and does stand on its own.  I did that on purpose so those who read them out of order won't feel like they missed something.  I never liked that feeling as a kid, and as a writer, I don't like passing that feeling on to others.

So, it's a great weekend.  Summer is finally happening.  It's time to read for fun!  And what's more fun than a free book?

Jennifer, Serena, and Madelyn...oh my! The Women Behind my Wicked Women Trilogy.

Good morning!

So this week I published the final book in my Wicked Women trilogy.  I'm pretty excited because I never thought of my self as a person who'd write book series, but now that I've managed to link three books together I like the idea and I start work on a new series very soon!

But let me tell you about  my Wicked Women.

It started with Jennifer Tiel in Lies In Chance.  

Lies in Chance is, first and foremost,  a romance about an heiress, Shara Brandt, and a school teacher, Bryan Jacobs.  But there's Jennifer, Bryan's ex-wife and the woman rivaling Shara for the affections of Shara's fiance, Richard.  (Are you still with me?)  On the surface, Jennifer is a sex-driven villain who blames Shara for all the troubles in her own life.  But that's just on the surface. 

In writing Jennifer, I tapped into the question most women ask themselves:  What would I do for love?  What would I do for money?  What would I do to survive?  

The answers surprised me.  

While a woman using her "wiles" isn't a new theme, I think Jennifer takes it to a new height. There are scenes where she has other weapons, but her weapon of choice, the one that serves her purposes and gives her pleasure at the same time, is sex.  She is beautiful, charming, and lethal.  On the surface she's simply a pretty face with a bad attitude, but deep down she's a woman fighting to claim what's hers.  

Don't feel sympathy for Jennifer Tiel.  She won't thank you for it, and she'll probably destroy you.


Then there was Serena Shipley Chapman, in Fresh Ice.

Fresh Ice brings together former Olympic caliber skater Isabella "Izzy" Marks and former NHL Bad Boy Quinn Murray.  But Serena Shipley Chapman is the cloud that hangs over an otherwise ideal romance.  One part Southern Belle, one part gritty Midwest athlete, Serena might be the most bitter of my villains.  Cheated out of love and glory by Izzy, Serena knows revenge is a dish best served cold.  She is ruthless, she is powerful, and she is patient.  She has never wanted for power, wealth, or privilege, but she wants something more and will stop at nothing to break whomever stands in her way.

Like Jennifer, Serena knows how to use her beauty to her advantage, but unlike Jennifer, Serena doesn't let pleasure get in her way of her single minded focus on her enemy. There is no plan B for Serena.  She must destroy Izzy at all costs, even when it costs her a chance at happiness.

There are many words to describe Serena Shipley Chapman...but don't use "crazy" as one of them.  Call her crazy and she'll hurt you just enough to make you wish you were dead.




Finally, meet the newest member of the Wicked Women Club, Madelyn Pierce Anderson in A Hero's Spark.

A Hero's Spark focuses on two people who are hardly heroes: Collier James and Mira Pierce. Collier has a lack of confidence after losing the love of his life and his band.  Mira has a wealth of issues that create a canyon of self-loathing for her. Madelyn, Mira's older sister, blames a troubled family history and her own social shortcomings on Mira, who suffers daily for the sins Madelyn won't forget.

Madelyn is not beautiful, and she has no interest in sexual pleasure...for herself.  She understands a man's drive for pleasure, though she views the need as a weakness to be exploited.  Her goal is power and money and she will stop at nothing to get exactly what she wants.  Her intellect is her biggest weapon and she is the coldest, most calculating villain of my Wicked Women. 

Blood might be thicker than water, but nothing is thick enough to keep her from her goals. Prim, proper, and traditional on the surface, she breaks all society's rules and mores to gain power and influence.

Stay out of her way...or pay the price.

If these three women sat down to lunch, I doubt they'd have much to talk about.  As similar as the world might view them, all three see themselves as originals and none would thank you for trying to make them be friends.

Honestly, I'm a little afraid of all of them.

Sneak Peak Sunday: A HERO'S SPARK!

Good evening!

Well it's done...at least the cover art is.  And I've managed to settle on a title.  So, ladies and gents, take a look at the cover for my upcoming novel:  A HERO'S SPARK

This is the final book in my Wicked Women series.  The other two, Lies in Chance and Fresh Ice don't tie to each other, but both books are tied together in A Hero's Spark.  So my advice, before this is released in early May, would be to read the other two books.  You don't have to, to understand this one, but really, why wouldn't you want to?

Meanwhile, here's a tidbit from Spark to whet your appetite:

COLLIER

          What woke him, Collier didn’t know, but even still in the haze of deep sleep, he knew he wasn’t alone in the loft. Someone latched the door quietly and stepped closer to the bed before turning on the overhead light.

          “Who’s there?” he called out as the light flashed on, momentarily blinding him. A woman’s scream pierced through the shock of light and he squinted in her general direction. He recognized the black hair immediately. “What are you doing here?”

          “I could ask you the same thing.” She held her bulky shoulder bag in front of her like a shield. “Who are you?”

          Collier shifted to sit up. She froze. “Don’t move.  I’ve got mace in here.”

          “Calm down. I’m not going to move, since I’m pretty much naked here.” Collier grinned at her. “But you don’t have mace in there.”

          The angry light in her eyes quavered, giving way to uncertainty. “How would you know what I have in my bag?”

          “Well,” he kept his voice calm, sensing she was more afraid than dangerous, “because if you had mace in there, you would have started spraying it the minute you realized there was a man in the room. That’s what I hear from most women, anyway.”

          She blinked away the uncertainty, her face settled into a mask of defensiveness. “Oh, and you know most women, do you?”

          “No, Miss, I don’t. But I’m pretty sure most women wouldn’t ask any questions before mentioning they have mace. So relax, put the bag down and tell me what you’re doing here.”

          “Shara lets me stay here sometimes, when I need to.”

          “Sound mysterious. And also like a complete lie.”

          “Yeah, well, I’ve lived here almost my whole life, and you’re a stranger.  That’s enough mysterious for me to call the cops. Give me one reason why I shouldn’t.”

          “My uncle said I could stay here and Molly Hunter brought me here.”

          She seemed less likely to want to kill him, but her countenance remained stony. “Who’s your uncle?”

          “Archibald James.”

          “The lawyer?”

          “The same.”

          She relaxed. “Okay, maybe you’re not a mass rapist.” She sat in the rocker. “But still, you can’t stay here.”

          “Why not?”

          “Because, I’m staying here.”

Collier chuckled. “I was here first. And, I’m not wearing pants.”

          “I’ll close my eyes. Get dressed, and get out.” Her tone was clipped, cold.  Collier again sensed she was covering fear.

          “Why should I get out? I got here first. I was sound asleep, and you woke me up.” He gave her a small smile, hoping to soften the deep furrows in her brow.

          She shrugged. “Not my problem. You can’t stay here.”

          “It is your problem. I’m not leaving.” He grinned. “We could both stay here. It’s a big enough bed.” He patted the spot next to him.

          She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Of course that’s what you want.” Her eyes flashed hot and angry.

          “It’s not what I want, Ma’am. I want to go to sleep. But if you have other ideas, well, I am from the South.  We believe in accommodating women whenever we can.”

          She stared at him, and Collier doubted his humor was warming her attitude toward him. Clearly, some sort of battle waged behind her emerald eyes.

Her face slacked into exhaustion.  “Look. I need to stay here. Alone.”

          Collier’s curiosity made him push the point further. “Well, I’m from out of town and have no place else to go. From what I hear, Miranda Peirce, you live in Rock Harbor which means you do have someplace else to go.”   

          “Don’t call me that.”

          “Isn’t it your name?”

“Call me Mira.” A shadow crossed her face. “I’m not going to that house tonight. You can’t make me.” her voice held the echoes of a willful child. “And how do you know my name…oh, wait…”

          “Molly Hunter.”

          Mira nodded. “She knows everyone and everything thing in this town. Steer clear of her if you want to keep anything private.”

          “She didn’t strike me as a person who spread gossip.”

          “She doesn’t.  She just knows everything.  The potential is always there.”

          An interesting read on the lovely Miss Molly.  “So the two of you aren’t grand friends then?”

          She leaned back in the rocker. “I try not to make attachments. It’s easier to leave if there aren’t any attachments.”

          “Sounds like someone who wants to run away.”

          “I’ve always wanted to run away. I feel like I’m running away from something every day of my life.”

          Collier wanted to be annoyed by her cryptic statement, but he sensed it was probably the one completely truthful thing she’d said. Collier studied her, trying to assess her age. “You’re what, thirty? You’re old enough to go out on your own. What’s stopping you?”

          “I’m twenty-eight, thank you.”

          “Oh that’s a huge difference.” Collier nearly laughed out loud at the wounded expression on Mira’s face.

          “I can’t leave because it’s complicated. But I can’t go home tonight.”

          The glimmer of true fear returned in her eyes. Collier relented. “Fine. Just go…go in the bathroom for a minute, let me get my crap together and I’ll go sleep on the hay downstairs.”

          “You sure you’re okay?” She suddenly sounded younger, almost childlike.

          “Oh now that you’ve won the bed, you want to know what my opinion is?”

          The softness melted from her face and her jaw line hardened. “Not really. I couldn’t care less where you sleep tonight, so long as it’s not in here.”

          “Suits me fine. I’d rather sleep with horses than up here with you. Less shit to deal with.”

          “Oh very nice. They teach you that language in the south where men are supposed to be so mannerly?” She glared at him as she stomped into the small bathroom and slammed the door.

          “No!” Collier yelled as he pulled on his jeans. “I learned manners just fine, because where I come from the women aren’t complete bitches!” He stuffed a few things into his duffle bag and slammed the door behind him, startling the horses in the stalls below.

          There was a blanket hanging from a hook near a stack of hay bales. Collier spread the blanket over the bales and stretched out on the hay, thankful his years on the road in the Renaissance Faire circuit had toughened him. Staring at the ceiling, he watched the light that glowed from between small cracks in the loft floor. When the light switched off, he closed his eyes. Still, she is pretty.

          Pretty bitchy.

MIRA

         

          Mira waited for Collier to settle downstairs.  Within a few minutes, everything was still and quiet. She sat on the edge of the bed and pulled off her boots, letting them drop to the wooden floor with a loud thud.  Collier’s muttered curse made her smile.  She wasn’t sure why annoying him gave her pleasure.

          She stretched out on the bed, still warm with his body heat.  She pushed her face into the pillow and inhaled his scent.  It wasn’t unpleasant.

          Closing her eyes, Mira saw him again, sitting in the bed, shirtless, the sheet and blanket pooled at his waist.

          Also not unpleasant.

          She shook her head.  Now is not the time to be thinking about a guy. No matter how good he might smell.

          She picked up her boot and tossed it in the air, giving it more velocity so that when it hit the wooden floor it sounded like a thunder clap.  The sound of the horses below whinnying and rustling in their stalls didn’t cover Collier’s curses, this time spoken at volume she knew was meant to reach her ears.

          Mira smiled, closed her eyes, and went to sleep.

Sneak Peak Sunday: Spark of a Hero

Good evening all!

It's been a marathon writing weekend, I have to say, and I'm within a couple pages of finishing the first draft of my newest WIP, "Spark of a Hero."

I thought I'd share a bit with you, to inspire you to read the other two books in my Wicked Women Series,  Lies in Chance and Fresh Ice.  (Click on the book covers to check them out at Amazon). While you don't NEED to read those two books for this one to make sense...hey, it wouldn't hurt.

Anyway, enjoy!

MIRA

Mira pulled into Dave’s parking lot, her speed lower, but her rage still heating her body. She slammed her car door, the feel of the force calming her a little. By the time she was inside, much of her anger had cooled. “Hey Chanel.”

          “Hey there, Mira. You’re not…you’re not waiting table tonight are you?”

          Mira wanted to laugh out loud at the concerned expression on her friend’s face. “No, I’m not. And you don’t have to pussy foot around it, Chanel. I know Dave’s pissed at me for my last performance. Hell, everyone around here is pissed at me for one thing or another.”

          “You’re just in a rough spot, that’s all, girl.”

          “I know. I know. But I’ve got something. I think I really have something, I just need to work on it. I was hoping I could use the backstage piano?”

          Chanel looked around and shrugged. “It’s quiet tonight. Go ahead. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

          “Dave won’t mind?”

          Chanel grinned. “If he is, I’ll take care of him, don’t you worry. You just go write something brilliant so you can get back on track.”

          Mira grinned. “Thanks Chanel. I knew I could count on you!”

          She wasted no time heading to the dark back stage area where a battered old piano was parked in directly beneath the lone light bulb in the space. She opened the cover and sat on the bench. She set her music folder on the music rack, and pulled out the sheets she’d covered with notes and lyrics. Taking a deep breath, she touched the scarred keys lightly, listening to the echo in the wide room. Softly, almost in a whisper, she sang as she played, stopping only to write a note here or there on the music.

          Time stopped while she was working. She knew, with each note she played, this was a good song. She liked the overall feeling, but today, after her encounter with Madelyn, a second, darker verse popped into her head and she really liked how the lyrics paired with the music. It was definitely a song to be proud of, and it was all hers.

          She stopped playing for a moment and wrote a few more notes on the music. She sensed, as she wrote, someone behind her. Looking over her shoulder, squinting at the shadows, she saw him. “You. Can’t you ever not be where I am?”

          Collier stepped into the dim ring of light. “Sorry. I was in the back, putting away dishes and I heard you playing.”

          “Yeah, well, you can go back to putting away dishes. I’ve got work to do.”

          “You’ve got a good song there.”

          “Not that I need your opinion.”

          “I’m just sayin’. It’s good.”

          She hated that his approval gave her a sense of calm. “Whatever. I’m playing it for Shara tomorrow.”

          “Oh, well, that’s good, right?”

          She grit her teeth. “Yes, Ren Faire Boy. It’s great. It’s freakin’ awesome that she was able to take some time out of her busy day of praising you to listen to what I have to offer. It’s super amazing that I have to beg and scrape for time now that you’re the golden boy at the studio.”

          “Hey, look. I’m not the one who can’t play when the tiniest distraction shows up. I’m not the one who had a freak out on stage the other night.”

          “No, but you always seem to be right there when I screw up.”

          “Why is that, I wonder. Are you threatened by me?”

          She didn’t miss the glimmer of humor in his steel gray eyes. “I’m not threatened by you. And I have more talent in my left hand than you’ll ever have in your entire life.”

          “That might be true. But talent isn’t always going to be the thing that gets you what you want in your career.”

          She wanted to punch him in the throat. Her right hand balled into a fist. “No, what gets you where you want to be in your career is being the spoiled nephew of Shara’s lawyer.”

          “That has nothing to do with it.”

          “The hell it doesn’t. If it weren’t for your uncle, you’d be begging your guys from your pirate band to take you back.”

          His expression registered a minimal amount of surprise and just a touch of hurt. “So that story’s gotten around I see.”

          “It doesn’t take much in this town. But don’t try to deny it. If you weren’t a relative, there’s no way you’d find your way up here.”

          “You don’t have to be bitter.”      

          “Oh you’re right. I don’t have anything to be bitter about. No, I’ve lived in this town forever and I’ve worked my butt off to get a chance at working with Shara and then you swoop in, you second rate cover singer, and you get my spot.”

          “I might be a second rate cover singer, but you’re an unstable mental case. And that is always going to get in the way of your talent.”

          She hated how calm he was. She hated how little her barbs seemed to affect him. Mostly, she hated how much he was probably right. “Get the hell out of here Collier James. I have work to do.”

          “Fine. I’m going. I’m going. I just wanted you to know…that’s a good song you’ve got there.”

This Sneak Peak Sunday brought to you by
a coffee fueled weekend!

          As he left, she shook her head, trying to dislodge any sense of pleasure she got from his compliment.

         

COLLIER

         
          The next morning, Collier got up and helped Bryan with the chores. He liked the way physical labor made him feel, like he’d actually accomplished something once the task was done.  He appreciated that Bryan didn’t feel the need to fill every moment with talk. They could work together, cleaning stalls, moving hay bales, filling the water tank, without much chatter.  It was calming for Collier who’d spent so long trying to make as much noise as possible to shut out thoughts of Izzy.  Now, in the morning stillness of the barn, he realized he hadn’t thought about her in a couple days.

          After chores, Collier shared a companionable pot of coffee with Bryan and headed to the studio to work. As he got close to the building, he didn’t have to open the door of the studio to hear the argument raging inside. He stepped into the building with caution, surprised to hear Shara Jacobs’ voice involved in anything quite so heated.

          What didn’t surprise him was Mira, once again voicing an opinion opposite Shara’s and the other members of Teachers’ Pets. Collier eased open the booth door and sat in the shadows, his curiosity rising by the second.

          “I’m not doing a duet!” Mira stood in front of them all, her back turned to the booth window, her fists balled at her sides. “This is a song I wrote and I want to sing it. Alone.”

          “Well that’s just fine because the one thing Teacher’s Pets doesn’t do is country.” Jake did nothing to hide his acrimony, his arms crossed and his eyes blazing.

          “It’s not a country song.”

          “Really? Because all I hear is twang, twang, twang.”

          Mira was about to retort something when Shara put her hand up. “Enough. Mira, this is a good, solid song. But I’m with Kelly and Jake on this one. This is definitely a duet, and I’d like to package it as such.”

          Collier watched as the room settled into an unsteady truce.

          “That said, it does skew a bit country and Jake’s right, Teachers’ Pet is definitely not a country band.”

          “Told you!”

          Collier stifled a laugh. Jake looked like a four year old, and Collier knew Mira was struggling to keep from sticking her tongue at him.

          “Although there was a time when this band didn’t allow ‘chicks’ in either, if I recall correctly.” Shara shot a glare at Jake, who settled down immediately. “Guys, I think it would be really appropriate for us to at least think about performing this song when we do the holiday tour. We’ll be in the heart of country music and wouldn’t it be nice to stretch our fan base just a little bit?”

          “Shara, okay, fine. But it’s a duet, like you said. So who do we get to sing it? I’m no country singer.  Kelly’s no country singer.  And Tony and Dave,” Jake grinned, “They’re not singers at all.”

          There was a general shout of protest from the guys in the band. Collier could see Mira’s confidence crumbling little by little. For all the fight and snarling she had in her, Collier realized her music might be the one thing Mira had that wasn’t protected by her thorny outer shell. It was the one place where she was completely honest. 

          “I’ll do it.”

          Everyone turned to squint at the glass. Collier whipped his finger off the speaker button, shocked as anyone that he’d spoken.

          “You haven’t even heard the song. You might not like it.”

          Collier stepped into the studio and ignored Mira’s icy glare. “I heard part of it last night, Tony, and I liked it. Besides, if Miss Shara says it’s good enough, it’s good enough. If you guys aren’t sure about it, I’ve got a connection in Nashville where she and I,” he nodded at the still fuming Mira, “could try it out on stage. I know a few musicians there who could back us up, so you wouldn’t have to do anything but listen. You guys can gauge the crowd reaction. That way we can perform far, far away from Teachers’ Pets, but we can still sort of do some promotion for you guys. It’s a win all the way around, if you think about it.” He grit his teeth, hoping they bought the idea because he doubted he could suggest performing at Second Chances’ again. There were too many memories in that old place.

          “I like the idea, but I think you two should work on this a bit before you sign anything. Starting now. Guys?” Shara held open the studio door for the others to leave.

          Alone in the studio, Collier sat at the piano and looked at Mira, who hadn’t moved a muscle in the time he’d been there. “So let’s hear it from the top.”

          “Like I really want to share this song with you.”

          Collier shrugged and got up. “Suit yourself. I’ve got my own stuff to work on. Teachers’ Pets want me to come with them for the holiday tour as the opening act.” He put his hand on the doorknob.

          “You really got a connection in Nashville? A good one, not some dive?”

          Collier grinned and turned around. “Well, ‘Second Chance’s’ is a dive, but it’s a great place to work out new material. Mostly a college crowd, but very music savvy. I used to try out new material there all the time. The food is sort of horrible, but the wine list is decent.”

          He looked at her closely. There was definitely something different about her.

          Mira ran a hand through her hair. Collier frowned. She looked ghostly and thin.  He hadn’t noticed it last night, but she’d lost some weight recently. “Hey, are you okay?”

          “I’ll be fine.” Mira sat down and shook her head. “When I’m writing, I forget to eat, that’s all.”

          Collier wasn’t quite convinced, but he wasn’t going to push. “Okay, so show me what you’ve got and let’s see if we can’t put a little country into Teacher’s Pet. Then I’ll get you a burger over at Dave’s.”

          Mira nodded and handed him some sheet music. “It’s a song about not getting anything handed to you. How some people have to work for everything they get while others just get everything.” She bit her lip, then gave him a defiant look, daring him to cut down the song.

          Collier read the lyrics and was instantly hooked. “I can definitely get behind this one. Let’s get to work.”

Turning the "don't" into "do."

Hello!

I heard a great radio commercial recently.  Granted, it had to do with New Year's resolutions and weight loss, but I thought it applied nicely to a writer's world as well.

The commercial was bemoaning the fact that so many resolutions are about "don't."  "Don't" eat junk food.  "Don't" smoke anymore.  That sort of thing.  The commercial wanted the listener to focus on "do."  "Do" get more exercise. "Do" enjoy healthier options for food.

So I was pondering, how do you turn a "Don't" into a "do" when it comes to the writing life?

First, what are the "don't" when it comes to writing?

There are a million of them.  As I plow through the first draft of a new novel, I'm running headlong into a pile of "don't," and sometimes that makes me not want to write.  For instance, when writing, many say, "DON'T just jump into a story.  Think about the characters, write down their history, their hair color, their eye color, their favorite color.  FOR THE LOVE OF GOD...DON'T JUST WRITE THE STORY!"

Balderdash.

Let's start with the rough draft.  I believe, and I think you can agree with me, the rough draft of anything should be about "DO!"

DO write everything you think is a good idea!

DO play with character names, back stories, physical features, everything. 

DO write and write until all the words are down. Sure, a good percentage might stink.  Sure, the words might not even be in the right order.  BUT they are down and the only way you're going to write a novel is IF YOU ACTUALLY WRITE A NOVEL.  There are no gold stars, no book deals, no book signings, no readings, no NOTHING for a pile of well researched notes and character profiles. 

I tried to be super organized when I wrote "Fresh Ice."  I had notes and profiles on every character.  I had names and parents' names and pets' names and jobs and work schedules.  And what happened?

My critique partner LOATHED the storyline.  We came up with a new one, she and I, one frosty night while walking her dog.  I love Fresh Ice now.  I can't imagine how it would have turned out if I'd clung to the organization and time I put into a bad storyline.

Okay, what's another "Don't" in writing? 

"Don't" get so serious about writing.  It's just a hobby.

Oh please...DON'T GET ME STARTED!
Wait, no, DO GET ME STARTED!

Whether your friends, relatives, coworkers, daycare workers say this out loud or not...some of them are thinking it and it oozes out into what you do.  This Don't becomes a BIGGER Don't because then we move into the "Don't tell anyone you're a writer, they'll just look at you funny."

Writing is a solitary activity, and therefore those around you who don't see what you do don't get what you do, unless you have a New York Times best seller sitting on the coffee table with your name on the OUTSIDE of the cover, not the INSIDE.  (See, I made a funny!)  I have relatives who knit, cross stitch, make Christmas ornaments out of broken glass, and I love them all.  But theirs is a visible art form.  Everyone sees what they are doing when they are doing it and then they go to craft fairs and sell these visible things.  Most writers these days work alone, or in coffee shops, and the finished product, given the magic of e-readers, is not something you can hold in your hand.

That fact does not make your writing any less important.  So DO take your writing seriously.  If you don't, few else will.  And DO tell everyone you're a writer.  Wear a T-shirt, call book stores and pester them until you get a book signing.  Tell your friends, your neighbors, your church friends, everyone that you are a writer and hey, you have a book/novel/poetry collection/short story collection available for sale.  My favorite moment as a writer is when my church people come up to me. I had one woman introduce me to a friend once and say, "You wouldn't think she was just a quiet little church person when you read her books."  (Something I think I should put on one of my covers, by the way!)

Friends, writing is sometimes a solitary thing.  We all joke about the voices in our heads, but when it comes down to it, it can be lonely sitting there waiting for inspiration to return.  So my biggest DO is DO find a writing group an DO make time to talk to other writers and authors.  DO find a critique partner.  DO share your writing with those who write.  Over the years I've been blessed to be part of many groups, big and small, and I cherish the input I got from all of them.  These days I don't have a ton of time, but I DO attempt to get to a writers' meeting every few months, just to touch base with others in the business. And of course I have my critique partners who are wonderful, tireless women I love to call my friends.  

This is a New Year.  DO what you DO and forget about everyone who says DON'T!

2013-2014: Looking backward and forward

Good evening!

Here we are, in the edge of yet another year.  World wide, good stuff happened, bad stuff happened and for the next several months, Hollywood is going to go crazy congratulating itself for all the work it's done in 2013.  (Ups and downs..."The Blacklist" is awesome.  "The Butler" is spectacular.  But did we need yet another Madea movie?  And "Fast and Furious 6"?  Really?)

In the spirit of the ending year I thought I'd look back and review my  year in writing, and then lay out my plan...a resolution if you will, for 2014.

2013 was wildly busy for me.  I got my rights back for "Dream in Color" and spent way too much time creating new covers for it.  I tried my hand at cover making for my books and for my friend, Author Linda Schmalz. 

I wrote and published my first short story:  Love is Elementary, which is actually going to be part of a bigger collection of short stories.  I'm so excited about writing shorter fiction.

I released my two Elsie W books, the first on in June, and the most recent one this past month.  (You can find everything at Amazon or on Smashwords. Just look for Sarah J. Bradley or Sarah Jayne Brewster.

November was awesome.  I took part in Nanowrimo and completed the 50000 word challenge.  As a result, my new novel, "Spark of a Hero" is well on its way to having a rough draft done. This is the book that will tie "Lies in Chance" and "fresh Ice" together so I'm excited about that.

So, after all that, what's up next for my writing life?  Well, quite a bit.  Which is funny, since when I was 13 and I started writing "Lies in Chance" I thought I had one story in me.  Turns out, I had a whole bunch of stuff going on in my head and I can't wait to get to work on it!

First of all, I have to finish "Spark of a Hero."  My goal is Valentine's Day, but let's be real...that's probably not going to happen quite that fast.

I have one more book in the Disaster Coworkers series...yes, Noelle C is getting a book.  I just have to buckle down and write it.

I've got three more short stories to go with "Love is Elementary" so there's that.

Finally, I'm and I really excited about this:  I'm going to create my third and probably final pseudonym.  S.J. Brady is going to be my name when I start my inspirational/mystery series.  I have a weak outline for the first book, but what's really exciting about this series is that it's a true series.  Nora Hill is going to be my new best friend as we wind up 2014 and get into 2015.

That's a ton of writing...but I figured something out this year.  I can sit down, I can write, I can produce even in the limited time I have to work between work, the kids, the husband, the house, and oh yeah, the cats.  I may not achieve all my goals in 2014, but I promise you this:  I'm going to keep you posted every step of the way, and I really hope I get feedback from you, because you are the ones reading my stories!