Julie Kenner's Blog, page 106
December 10, 2012
Scene Rescue: When Collaborators Disagree—And Live To Tell The Tale
I’m so excited that Ruth 
Harris is guest-blogging today! Ruth is a New York Times and ebook bestselling author of romantic women’s fiction. With her husband, Michael, she writes thrillers. (How cool is that?) Coming up soon is The Chanel Caper, a romantic comedy-mystery starring a baby boomer couple.
I particularly love Ruth’s description of The Chanel Caper -”chick lit for chicks who weren’t born yesterday.” It addresses “the two most important questions of our time: 1) Is there sex after marriage? 2) Is sixty the new forty?” (I hope so, because that puts me back in my twenties! Whoo-hoo!)
Ruth is blogging about collaboration. I’ve done a couple of collabs now (novels and screenplays) and my experiences have been great, but not without challenges. Ruth’s insight is awesome!
Without further ado … here’s Ruth!
Love doesn’t always run a smooth path (no kidding!) and neither does collaboration. There are inevitably going to be times when you and your co-author—in my case my DH, Michael—don’t see a character, a scene, even a line of dialogue the same way.
Most of the time while we were writing our thriller, Hooked, Michael and I were in synch but there was one scene about which we had radically different opinions. I hated it so much I deleted it. Michael, appalled, retrieved it from the trash.
The scene occurs midway through the book and involves two characters. One is Gavin Jenkins, the brilliant and charismatic doctor who is at the center of the story. The other is Adriana Partos, a world-famous concert pianist who retired at the request of her lover, billionaire tycoon, Nicky Kiskalesi. Now, however, Nicky misses Adriana’s fame and celebrity and wants her to come out of retirement.
The problem is that a severe arthritic condition has made it impossible for Adriana to play. Nicky, who didn’t get rich by giving up, suggests she consult Gavin Jenkins, a miracle-working celebrity doctor who, it seems, can cure almost anything. Adriana, reluctant but also afraid of losing Nicky, agrees to meet with Gavin.
As the scene was originally written, Adriana dislikes Gavin for intuitive reasons: she finds him slick and cold although no specific reasons are given. The scene, based on her instinctive dislike, seemed weak and unconvincing to me: ergo, the delete button. Michael convinced me the scene was necessary and could be made to work.
The question was: how? I trust Michael’s opinions so we had several conversations about why I hated the scene and why he thought it essential. We finally got to an agreement point when we decided that “something” specific had to happen in the scene to validate Adriana’s dislike and distrust of Gavin, a dislike so intense that she slaps him and walks out of his consulting room.
Having no idea of what the “something” was, I went to the computer to rewrite the scene. I took out the language referring to her “intuitive” dislike of his “coldness” and “hidden” personality. When I got to the exact lines that describe Gavin taking her arm in an intimate, almost caressing way & giving her the shot for which he has become known, the words, coming straight from my unconscious to the keyboard, emerged on the screen: “You’ve never felt this good, have you?” he whispers as he presses down on the syringe and the fluid enters her vein.
That brief line of dialogue—completely unanticipated—was a result of our previous conversations about the characters and the scene and gave us the “something” we needed.
In response, Adriana slaps Gavin, he calls her a bitch and tries to give her a second (different) injection but, by then, she has left. The scene ends with her standing outside his office and remembering the bulge in his pants. Had she been seeing things? Imagining things? Or had he had an erection as he administered the shot?
Since we already know about Gavin’s sexual kinks from earlier scenes, we now had a compelling scene that advances the plot, creates conflict between Adriana and the gifted doctor whose help she will need and adds a new dimension to Gavin’s intriguing, mysterious character.
Sometimes disagreement is the friction that produces the pearl. You just have to get from there to here.
J.K. here again: Thanks so much Ruth! I’ve had the same experience collaborating — does it make me weird to say that I actually love that disagreement process? Some of the best scenes come when you push yourself even further, and I think that collaborating often facilitates that. You’re forced to look at scenes, characters, whatever from a different angle, and that often leads to a new and better perspective!
Readers, you can visit Ruth (and learn more about all of her books!) at her lively blog, http://ruthharrisblog.blogspot.com/
So tell us, for you writers out there, have you ever tried to collaborate? For that matter, even you non-writers have probably collaborated on projects (heck, even buying a house is a project between spouses that requires collaboration! i.e., do you or do you not need that extra bathroom? hint: the answer is always yes!). How did it go? Good experience? Bad experience?
And don’t forget to enter my holiday contest!
December 9, 2012
Flowers in the Attic and other Guilty Secrets
Yeah, I read this book waaaaay too many times!
What do incestuous ballerinas, demons, and erotica have in common?
Well, that would be me!
Yes, it’s true. I spent much of my youth reading (and re-reading) the Flowers in the Attic series. (I even took the series as my pool-side reading on my honeymoon!)
My movie guilty pleasures run more towards the romantic-cry-at-the-ending kind. Pretty Woman, anyone?
But, hey, why not come on over and check out my interview at Scenes from a Chaotic Mind and see what other oddities are rambling around in this head of mine!
One of my favorite holiday performances!
I never get tired of Straight No Chaser’s rendition of The Twelve Days of Christmas. It always makes me smile!
Still sharing holiday songs as we countdown to the new year!
Enjoy!
And don’t forget to enter my holiday contest!
December 8, 2012
Kindle highlights:
Just saw that 5 folks have highlighted, “My life has so much color I could open a crayon factory,” from Aphrodite’s Kiss! What a fun little Kindle feature!
Saturday teaser: New Release Me excerpt!
Here’s a tasty peek at some early, heated conversation between Nikki and Damien from my upcoming novel, Release Me. I hope you enjoy!
I veer toward one of the free-standing easels and stare blankly at the painting. It depicts a nude woman kneeling on a hard tile floor. Her arms are raised above head, her wrists bound by a red ribbon.
The ribbon is attached to a chain that rises vertically out of the painting, and there is tension in her arms, as if she’s tugging downward, trying to get free. Her stomach is smooth, her back arched so that the lines of her ribcage show. Her breasts are small, and the erect nipples and tight brown areolae glow under the artist’s skill.
Her face is not so prominent. It’s tilted away, shrouded in gray. I’m left with the impression that the model is ashamed of her arousal. That she would break free if she could. But she can’t.
She’s trapped there, her pleasure and her shame on display for all the world.
My own skin prickles and I realize that this girl and I have something in common. I’d felt a sensual power crash over me, and I’d reveled in it.
Then Stark had shut it off, as quickly as if he’d flipped a switch. And like that model I was left feeling awkward and ashamed.
Well, fuck him. That twit on the canvas might be embarrassed, but I wasn’t going to be. I’d seen the heat in his eyes, and it had turned me on. Period. End of story. Time to move on.
I look hard at the woman on the canvas. She’s weak. I don’t like her, and I don’t like the painting.
I start to move away, my own confidence restored—and I collide with none other than Damien Stark himself.
Well, shit.
His hand slides against my waist in an effort to steady me. I back away quickly, but not before my mind processes the feel of him. He’s lean and hard, and I’m uncomfortably aware of the places where my body intersected his. My palm. My breasts. The curve of my waist tingles from the lingering shock of his touch.
“Ms. Fairchild.” He’s looking straight at me, his eyes neither flat nor cold. I realize that I have stopped breathing.
I clear my throat and flash a polite smile. The kind that quietly says, “Fuck off.”
“I owe you an apology.”
Oh.
“Yes,” I say, surprised. “You do.”
I wait, but he says nothing else. Instead, he turns his attention to the painting. “It’s an interesting image. But you would have made a much better model.”
What the…?
“That’s the worst apology I’ve ever heard.”
He indicates the model’s face. “She’s weak,” he says, and I forget all about the apology. I’m too intrigued by the way his words echo my earlier thoughts. “I suppose some people might be drawn to the contrast. Desire and shame. But I prefer something bolder. A more confident sensuality.”
He looks at me as he says this last, and I’m not sure if he’s finally apologizing for snubbing me, complimenting my composure, or being completely inappropriate. I decide to consider his words a compliment and go from there. It may not be the safest approach, but it’s the most flattering.
“I’m delighted you think so,” I say. “But I’m not the model type.”
He takes a step back and with slow deliberation looks me up and down. His inspection seems to last for hours, though it must take only seconds. The air between us crackles, and I want to move toward him, to close the gap between us again. But I stay rooted to the spot.
He lingers for a moment on my lips before finally lifting his head to meet my eyes, and that is when I move. I can’t help it. I’m drawn in by the force and pressure of the tempest building in those damnable eyes.
“No,” he says simply.
At first I’m confused, thinking that he’s protesting my proximity. Then I realize he’s responding to my comment about not being the model type.
“You are,” he continues. “But not like this—splashed across a canvas for all the world to see, belonging to no one and everyone.” His head tilts slightly to the left, as if he’s trying out a new perspective on me. “No,” he murmurs again, but this time he doesn’t elaborate.
I am not prone to blushing, and I’m mortified to realize that my cheeks are burning. For someone who just a few moments ago mentally told this man to fuck off, I am doing a piss-poor job of keeping the upper hand. “I was hoping to have the chance to talk to you this evening,” I say.
His brow lifts ever so slightly, giving him an expression of polite amusement. “Oh?”
“I’m one of your fellowship recipients. I wanted to say thank you.”
He doesn’t say a word.
I soldier on. “I worked my way through college, so the fellowship helped tremendously. I don’t think I could have graduated with two degrees if it hadn’t been for the financial help. So thank you.” I still don’t mention the pageant. As far as I’m concerned, Damien Stark and I are deep in the land of the do-over.
“And what are you doing now that you’ve left the hallowed halls of academia?”
He speaks so formally that I know he’s teasing me. I ignore it and answer the question seriously. “I joined the team at C-Squared,” I say. “I’m Carl Rosenfeld’s new assistant.” Evelyn already told him this, but I assume he hadn’t been paying attention.
“I see.”
The way he says it suggests he doesn’t see at all. “Is that a problem?”
“Two degrees. A straight-A average. Glowing recommendations from all your professors. Acceptance to Ph.D. programs at both MIT and Cal Tech.”
I stare at him, baffled. The Stark International Fellowship Committee awards thirty fellowships each year. How the hell can he possibly know so much about my academic career?
“I merely find it interesting that you ended up not leading a product development team but doing gruntwork as the owner’s assistant.”
“I—“ I don’t know what to say. I’m still spinning from the surreal nature of this inquisition.
“Are you sleeping with your boss, Ms. Fairchild?”
“What?”
“I’m sorry. Was the question unclear? I asked if you were fucking Carl Rosenfeld.”
“I—no.” I blurt the answer out, because I can’t let that image linger for longer than a second. Immediately, though, I regret speaking. What I should have done was slap his face. What the hell kind of question is that?
“Good,” he says, so crisply and firmly and with such intensity that any thought I have of verbally bitch-slapping him vanishes completely. My thoughts, in fact, have taken a sharp left turn and I am undeniably, unwelcomely turned on. I glare at the woman in the portrait, hating her even more, and not particularly pleased with Damien Stark or myself. I suppose we have something in common, though. At the moment, we’re both picturing me out of my little black dress.
Shit.
He doesn’t even try to hide his amusement. “I believe I’ve shocked you, Ms. Fairchild.”
“Hell yes, you’ve shocked me. What did you expect?”
Release Me will hit shelves (and ebook readers) January 1! You can find links to most of the online retailers to pre-order Release Me here!
And don’t forget to enter my holiday contest!
December 7, 2012
A Thought for the Approaching New Year (and a giveaway!!)
Please welcome today’s guest blogger, Dana Marton, whose novel The Third Scroll is an Amazon bestseller in epic fantasy. How cool is that? And if you’ve ever felt like things have gotten a little out of control, this is most definitely the post for you!
Of everything I learned in college, the single most important thing is something another student scribbled on the blackboard when he was giving a motivational seminar to the class as part of a project.
EVENT + RESPONSE = OUTCOME
I remember what a revelation this was to me at the time. Whatever happens to me does not define my life. The outcome is determined by things that happen AND my response to those things. Which means I have control!
What happens to me does not define how my life will be. I get a big say in the matter. How I respond to certain events can and will change everything.
EVENT + RESPONSE = OUTCOME
It’s the single most encouraging equation I can think of.
I just had a book come out, DEATHSCAPE, about an artist who, after a near-death experience, is compelled to paint visions of the dead. Then she paints a man buried alive and, recognizing the surroundings, she rushes to save him. Unfortunately, instead of being grateful to her for rescuing him, Detective Jack Sullivan accuses her of being in league with a serial killer.
She had problems, but so did I.
I started this book maybe five years ago. Agents loved it, editors loved it, but I still couldn’t get a contract for it. The obvious response would have been to put it under the bed in a box and move on. I chose a different response. And as I write this, DEATHSCAPE is #6 on Amazon’s romantic suspense bestseller list.
Do you have any life lessons that you’ve learned over the years and you keep coming back to? Would you share it with me?
I will raffle off a copy of THE THREE COWBOYS, my current release, among those who respond. Thank you!!!!!!!!!!!
Wishing you a fun and positive day!
And if you have a minute, come and Like me on Facebook. I do all sorts of fun giveaways there regularly. www.facebook.com/danamarton
Dana
Thanks so much for coming by, Dana!
Readers, be sure to leave a comment for a chance to win a copy of The Three Cowboys!
And don’t forget to enter my holiday contest!
December 6, 2012
Oopsie! Here’s the form for the con*test!!
I forgot to put the Rafflecopter form in this morning’s Cows with Guns video post (it really is a hoot if you haven’t seen it). But here you go! Enter here and good luck!
For the rest of this month, you can use the Rafflecopter widget below to enter for a chance to win a $25 gift certificate! (if the widget is wonky, try refreshing the page)
UNWINDing after a hard day
Not that I’d want to unwind like the kids in UNWIND, but reading UNWIND by Neil Schusterman was a lot of fun. It’s our neighborhood bookclub choice, and we’re talking about it tonight at book club! Can’t wait! In fact, I even bought Unwholly and UnStrung, a short story featuring the character of Lev.
Despite the politically charged undertones, the book doesn’t bash you over the head with politics or social issues. It’s a solid story with great characters and unexpected twists and turns. And, yeah, some tear-jerking moments!
Cows with Guns
Well, it’s Thursday, and that means … nothing in particular!
Except that I was trolling the web recently and ran across a site I’d bookmarked ages ago. How can “We will fight for bovine freedom” not amuse?
Seriously, check it out…
December 5, 2012
Happy Holidays Con*test!
#contest #giveaway #giftcard Don’t forget that all my blog posts (not these random status updates!) include a Rafflecopter form for entering my holiday giveaway! Four winners … $25 gift cards. Woot! (That’ll buy quite a few books, LOL!) Enter between now and New Year’s Eve for a drawing New Year’s Day!
