Karina Bliss's Blog - Posts Tagged "superromance"
Today I'm blogging on the SuperRomance authors loop about what makes a great ending to a romance. Come visit and go into the draw for one of my backlist.
Here's the link:
http://www.superauthors.com/2012/01/w...
Here's the link:
http://www.superauthors.com/2012/01/w...
I’m in a slump. Not a reading slump thank heavens. In the last couple of weeks I’ve been reading, Making a Good Writer Great, Writing Comedy, Writing Subtext (guessed I need inspiration yet?) and for fun the latest releases from J.R. Ward, Sarah Mayberry, Abby Gaines and some ‘new to me’ Karen Marie Moning. I’ve also got Terry Pratchett’s Going Postal from the library from a recommendation on Anne Stuart’s blog.
But at close to fifty thousand words into the new book with thirty to go I’m tired of 'staying with the cattle' as writer Elmore Leonard describes the writing process. I want to ride into town, raise some hell, kick up my heels.
Still the book's taking shape (he fourth in my SAS heroes series - His Goodbye Girl).
It’s about a soldier who comes back from the dead to discover his buddies have given his gal the engagement ring they found in his locker. Which he wouldn't have a problem with only he proposed on the eve of his departure - and she turned him down. Ouch!
I love the premise and thought lots of comic mayhem would ensue but the book’s taken another direction though it still has comic moments.
Here’s an unedited excerpt of their first meet…He’s led her to believe his trauma amnesia extends back to the proposal (it doesn't). She’s not telling him the truth until she makes sure he’s not suffering PTSD after nineteen months in captivity. Jules is waiting in a private room at the aerodrome. Lee's plane has landed and…
Nothing happened. Jules smoothed her dress, drying damp palms at the same time. Sat down. Crossed her legs. Uncrossed them. Stood up. Sat down again.
Nothing happened. No one came. She picked up a magazine on the table, Aviation Today. Flicked through pages. Walked to the picture window and watched the buzz around the cargo plane as it was unloaded with military efficiency.
Glanced at the clock. Fifteen minutes had passed. Not long now surely?
Licking dry lips, she walked to the water cooler and fumbled for a plastic cup. Half a dozen toppled to the floor. Calm down, deep breaths.
Carefully she replaced them in the holder before filling her cup, watching the oxygen bubble rise with a deep galomp and gurgle. Her stomach felt like that. Raising the cup to her lips she turned.
Lee stood in the doorway.
Jules started. Icy water splashed onto the carpet where it beaded on the nylon weave.
"Hello Jules."
If she’d had to use one word to describe him it would have been ‘dazzling’. His smile, his looks, his personality. Summer from the gold of his hair to the heat in his eyes when he looked at her with imps of flaming devilry and his sunny, laughing disposition.
There was nothing of summer about him now. More frame than flesh, his hair had darkened in captivity to a light brown under the beret. The military uniform juxtaposed oddly with the thick stubble covering his jaw.
He could have been a pirate after six months at sea, desiccated, hollow cheeked, the bones of his face bladed. His nose had been broken and mended badly. By contrast the sunglasses he wore were smooth, shiny and reflective, hiding every reaction.
She could feel the muscles of her face twitch and spasm as she struggled to match his composure, deal with her shock, her joy under laid by a terrible sadness at fully understanding what he must have suffered.
Be strong. Be brave. Except…Her face crumbled, like a clay cliff weakened by incessant rain. “Oh Lee.” He sucked in an indrawn breath as she went to hug him. His hands shot out and caught her elbows. Jules drew back. “Does it hurt?”
“No,” But his voice was hoarse.
“I’ll be careful but just let me…” Stepping forward, she leaned her face against his jacket, gently, blindly. “I have to make you real.”
With a muffled oath, he released her elbows, his arms clamped like bands around her shoulders and he bowed his head over hers. For long minutes they stood there. Sharing air. He smelled of starch and exhaustion and himself.
She closed her eyes, conscious that she could impale herself on this man still. He clearly wasn’t up to hearing the truth today. But for both their sakes, there was something she had to do.
Pulling free, she retrieved her bag, scrambling through the contents until she found the small velvet box zipped into the side pocket. “This belongs to you.”
But at close to fifty thousand words into the new book with thirty to go I’m tired of 'staying with the cattle' as writer Elmore Leonard describes the writing process. I want to ride into town, raise some hell, kick up my heels.
Still the book's taking shape (he fourth in my SAS heroes series - His Goodbye Girl).
It’s about a soldier who comes back from the dead to discover his buddies have given his gal the engagement ring they found in his locker. Which he wouldn't have a problem with only he proposed on the eve of his departure - and she turned him down. Ouch!
I love the premise and thought lots of comic mayhem would ensue but the book’s taken another direction though it still has comic moments.
Here’s an unedited excerpt of their first meet…He’s led her to believe his trauma amnesia extends back to the proposal (it doesn't). She’s not telling him the truth until she makes sure he’s not suffering PTSD after nineteen months in captivity. Jules is waiting in a private room at the aerodrome. Lee's plane has landed and…
Nothing happened. Jules smoothed her dress, drying damp palms at the same time. Sat down. Crossed her legs. Uncrossed them. Stood up. Sat down again.
Nothing happened. No one came. She picked up a magazine on the table, Aviation Today. Flicked through pages. Walked to the picture window and watched the buzz around the cargo plane as it was unloaded with military efficiency.
Glanced at the clock. Fifteen minutes had passed. Not long now surely?
Licking dry lips, she walked to the water cooler and fumbled for a plastic cup. Half a dozen toppled to the floor. Calm down, deep breaths.
Carefully she replaced them in the holder before filling her cup, watching the oxygen bubble rise with a deep galomp and gurgle. Her stomach felt like that. Raising the cup to her lips she turned.
Lee stood in the doorway.
Jules started. Icy water splashed onto the carpet where it beaded on the nylon weave.
"Hello Jules."
If she’d had to use one word to describe him it would have been ‘dazzling’. His smile, his looks, his personality. Summer from the gold of his hair to the heat in his eyes when he looked at her with imps of flaming devilry and his sunny, laughing disposition.
There was nothing of summer about him now. More frame than flesh, his hair had darkened in captivity to a light brown under the beret. The military uniform juxtaposed oddly with the thick stubble covering his jaw.
He could have been a pirate after six months at sea, desiccated, hollow cheeked, the bones of his face bladed. His nose had been broken and mended badly. By contrast the sunglasses he wore were smooth, shiny and reflective, hiding every reaction.
She could feel the muscles of her face twitch and spasm as she struggled to match his composure, deal with her shock, her joy under laid by a terrible sadness at fully understanding what he must have suffered.
Be strong. Be brave. Except…Her face crumbled, like a clay cliff weakened by incessant rain. “Oh Lee.” He sucked in an indrawn breath as she went to hug him. His hands shot out and caught her elbows. Jules drew back. “Does it hurt?”
“No,” But his voice was hoarse.
“I’ll be careful but just let me…” Stepping forward, she leaned her face against his jacket, gently, blindly. “I have to make you real.”
With a muffled oath, he released her elbows, his arms clamped like bands around her shoulders and he bowed his head over hers. For long minutes they stood there. Sharing air. He smelled of starch and exhaustion and himself.
She closed her eyes, conscious that she could impale herself on this man still. He clearly wasn’t up to hearing the truth today. But for both their sakes, there was something she had to do.
Pulling free, she retrieved her bag, scrambling through the contents until she found the small velvet box zipped into the side pocket. “This belongs to you.”
