Cynthia Harrison's Blog, page 48

On Men & Motorcycles

The weather broke finally in Michigan yesterday, going from 55 to 85 in a day. We knew it was coming, so made a plan with friends to dine in a little town at a sidewalk café.

The guys golfed first. Al took a half a day off work just so he could get in 18 holes. We didn’t think the place would be crowded, didn’t think every single person in Michigan had been waiting for the warm weather with as much anticipation as us. Didn’t know, that in downtown Romeo, Thursday night is biker night.

Jan and I met the guys at the restaurant, where Al had a glass of Chardonnay waiting for me. There were little beads of condensation on the glass instead of frost! What a welcome beverage after the crazy busy day I had yesterday. And the food was pretty good, too. Younger’s Irish Pub has the best sweet potato fries in northern Michigan.

Al took the photo above. He gave away three motorcycles when we moved away from his super-size garage. I think he’ll buy one of these shiny new toys when he retires or maybe even tomorrow. He was really eyeing the action on the street.

There’s this thing he does when he thinks I’m not paying attention. I didn’t catch on for a really long time, but now that we have the camera phones, I’ll ask him to shoot a pic for me and then go to send it to myself and pop! the things my eyes have seen. Of course I delete the honey shots immediately. And then I say a few choice words about DOGs (Dirty Old Guys).

He had our waitress in the frame last night … I saw him pointing and ready to click & said don’t you dare. I used to be a waitress and I remember the DOGs with distaste, even disgust. Ugh. Don’t they know they’re bald? Don’t they know I’m only twenty? Don’t they have granddaughters my age?

Now that I’m not so young myself, bald heads and pot bellies don’t faze me. Nobody who lives as long as I have (59 years) escapes what time does to our faces and bodies. So why not just accept it and act your age, my dear husband? Then again, I guess a man can dream. About bad motorcycles, not sweet young things.

Artist by Accident

Looking familiar, hey? In accidental artist mode, trying to create a beautiful postcard with limited tools.  Okay, tools are adequate, skills limited. Have other side, too, all my book covers, but I could not get them down to thumbnail size so I’m just going to throw myself on the mercy of Speedy Printing, who does my friend Iris’s beautiful cards.

Noticed with alarm that my supply of print books to sell at conference next Saturday (Still time to register; would love to see you there!)  has dwindled alarmingly. So I will hand out the postcards if I sell out of books. Big IF …

Because I am not a salesperson. Or an artist. Not even the kind who can make a cool collage on PicMonkey. But I am learning a few things about promotion and how to sell without spamming. I’m taking courses and workshops and yesterday did a “join me” session online with Rachel at BadRedHead Media. That was fun!

I love learning and being a student comes far before being the teacher, which is also pretty cool. Aries here! We like to strut. When we are not crippled with social anxiety. Notice how I went from “I” to “we”? Distancing technique. Like the movie stars who answer questions with “you” instead of “I” ~

Anyway, this is what I’ve been working on the last few days in my moments when I am not falling over from half moon pose or thinking deeply about my newest characters between scribbles. Lots of pages this morning. Writing first thing is best for me. And writing is the first thing every author should do. Write the best book you can. Then you’ll have something you’ll be proud to take to market.

Good Guys

Rumor has it women like bad boys. They want someone with an edge, someone who doesn’t call, someone who treats them like shit from time to time. This rumor is inaccurate.

Girls fall for bad boys more than women do, but this is because they still believe they can fix them. That they are the one girl in the world to whom this handsome hardass will surrender his tender love.

But girls grow into women, time passes, lovers come and go, and the good guys stay. If not in our lives, then in our hearts. It’s the good guys we marry and have children with. It’s the good guys who win. And good guys are just as sexy and gorgeous as bad boyfriends. Way more. Good guys make our hearts melt.

Yesterday, I met again one of the good guys in my life. It happened, where else, on Facebook. We had a lovely exchange and I got the chance to tell him what my tangled up young self couldn’t say then and wouldn’t fully know for decades: he is one of a very short list of good men in my life. Men who lifted me up, men who cherished me, men who made me believe in myself.

And he was just a boy in 1971 when he took me to his junior prom, took me to see my favorite folk singer Melanie at the Masonic Temple, took me on dates to McDonald’s for cheeseburgers and Cokes. Picked me up for school and drove me there in his pick up truck.  Was always sweet and caring. Never missed a phone call. Never missed a study date. (You realize that no actual studying went on, right?)

He made me feel pretty. Told me I was, and really, back then, I did everything I could to be not-pretty. It was my protest. Flannel shirts, thick wire glasses, no make up, no hair products, just wild and natural and not one bit pretty in the traditional sense of the word.

But a good guy always sees the beauty inside, no matter what kind of front a girl puts on with her jeans in the  morning. And for that, we love them best.

Blog Tour

Thanks to my good friend, Terry Tyler, for inviting me to take part in this tour. I met Terry on Twitter; she was one of the first reach out & help me as a writer on Twitter. Because there’s a special way to interact as a writer on social media, and there are rules of etiquette, as well as accepted marketing practices, just like in any other social or business situation. Right. The questions:

What am I working on now?

I’m currently working on three books, all at differing levels:

♥ I’m doing tasks like filling out the art fact sheet and writing blurbs for my next Wild Rose Press release, Luke’s #1 Rule. Awaiting edits that should land on my desk any day now. I expect Luke out sometime this summer.

♥ I am also revising my indie paranormal, Sweet Melissa after receiving comments from beta-readers. Sweet Melissa will released on or before June 1 of this year.

♥ Finally, I am writing the first draft of Fast Eddie, my third book in the Blue Lake series with Wild Rose Press. Eddie and his bar and grill have made cameos in both previous Blue Lake books. I’m finding out some very interesting things about this mystery man. The secondary plot fills in Bob and Lily’s love story from Blue Heaven, cut short then by college and Lily’s issues. That deadline is October, so my plan is to write fresh material every day and have a great opening chapter for my critique group May 9.

How does my work differ from others in its genre?

I have two genres: contemporary romance and paranormal. One is e-published with POD and the other is indie and e-book only. I think that’s different right there. But my romances are different in that TWRP has let me grow beyond the normal boundaries of romance. I have subplots. I have other POVs. I am closer to women’s fiction than romance, but they’re just labels. My paranormals are different in that there are no vampires. I’ve created a unique world, at least one I’ve not seen done in fiction before. My world is a  mix of science (super string theory) and fantasy (flying and a talking moon mother).

Having said what’s different, I prefer paranormals that take place in an almost recognizable world. So my people do visit their other world and it helps them catch bad guys, but most of the story is set in our contemporary American world.

Why do I write what I do?

I love to read everything: blogs, magazines, poetry, short stories, novels, memoirs, physics, metaphysics, self-help, biography and the Sunday New York Times, mostly for book reviews.

And that might be why I have written in so many different categories. My first book, and only full length non-fiction work, Your Words, Your Story, is part writing memoir, part writing manual. I wrote it for a specific audience, my creative writing students, who would come to class all wanting to write different things. So I covered all the stuff I’d written and published to that point (2007), a wide spectrum from journalism and criticism to poetry and short stories to creative non-fiction. Even a screenplay treatment. And of course my blog, here since 2002.

After YWYS came out, I focused on getting my many novels published. Again, I didn’t stick to one kind of novel, but Luke’s #1 Rule is the book of my heart, the book I always wanted to write but also feared writing. That’s when I know I should write something. If it scares me, pushes my boundaries, it’s good.

How does my writing process work?

It’s a bit chaotic, as I also teach and tweet. Plus I’m on a quest for better health via food and exercise. So I try to write first thing. Often, I have to check for email from my publisher before “first thing” Many days I end up tweeting for an hour or blogging for two before I manage to get those new pages written, but that is the plan right now. New pages for next novel every day. Start on them early.

So far, I’ve been writing longhand. I bought a new pen and notebook, a ritual for each new book. I researched some background on Eddie and his first love (they meet again at their 20th high school reunion) and wrote a bit from each of the four POVs. After I fill the notebook, it’s time to write a draft in Word docx.

I’ve tagged Edith Andersen, and Sylvia Hubbard, and Gretchen Riley, three wonderful — and wildly different – writers.

Plans & What Happens

Had entire plan mapped out for the three books  am currently working on: my print release-in edits now-my indie release-just back from beta-readers- and my current WIP-still in notebook stage. All balls in air, juggling smooth as a circus performer. Ha!

I love this Sweet Melissa cover art by Bodicia.

Sweet Melissa was supposed to be third in my “Traveling Girl” series, after Natalia. But Melissa, like many a secondary character before her, took the book over from Natalia, who never had a chance. Natalia is a strong secondary character and the book wouldn’t be what it is without her extraordinary powers to travel worlds and keep Melissa safe.

But Melissa and her friend are the traveling girls in Book Two. Add to that the awesome fact that Melissa and David are the hot couple in love, and then top it with this fabulous cover art, and even I finally saw the light. With the help of Marla, who said “This is Melissa’s story” and Bodicia, who painted something that drew me in so deeply that I began to write Melissa’s parts with much more power.

Sorry, Natalia. You are too busy in Book Two dealing with the spirit worlds and your new-found powers to even think about love. You’ll get your story some day soon, when you’re just a little older. And it will be worthy of you. And readers, Sweet Melissa, drops June 1.

Consummation 1, 2, 3

Sex scenes used to scare me. I wrote kisses &  desire & closed the door. When my editor called me on it, I read my contract closely and sure enough there was the word: “consummation.”

  1. The Way In

I love a challenge and every once in awhile, I’d read a really well done love scene and wished I could do that.  I say love scene instead of sex scene because my characters who engage in sexual activities are falling in love, so for me it’s an emotional journey as well as a physical one.

That was my first way in. I thought about intercourse as not just about sex, but also about falling in love and discovering every inch of another person, inside and out.

2. What words?

So yeah, that word. Intercourse. Making love. Doing it. Scoring. Screwing. Fucking. Copulating. Having sex. Getting some.

Not just the act, but every body part has many name choices, from ridiculous to sublime. The proper biological designations are a bit sterile for my taste. Other words can seem sleazy or silly, depending on the readers’ moral compass. And metaphors can backfire or explode with unintended puns. Silly lily and sunken treasure will never measure up to the beast with two backs.

I solved this dilemma by figuring out that word choice in love scenes is deeply personal. I go with what works for me and my characters. I don’t want to offend readers (I think this stops so many of us) but those offended by my words are not my readers. Or won’t be for long.

3. Surrender

This one came late to me. I had to learn to slow down and enjoy the ride. That’s not a metaphor. I had to get comfortable enough in my own skin to enter into the mind and body of my POV character in those moments, to be her, to feel what she was feeling. I’m not a prude, and I’m not sure what took me so long to fully give myself over to love scenes, but once I did, I began to enjoy writing them.

How about you? Do you enjoy reading love scenes or are you someone who skims those pages?

*Photo courtesy of Flickr: chadh-flickr / Creative Commons

Introvert in Extrovertville

That’s not me in the middle of all the testosterone . It’s my friend Jan, an extrovert. I was hiding in the kitchen or pouring myself another glass of Chardonnay, because I am an introvert and that’s what we do at parties. We find one person to talk to, or have a glass of wine when the party grows.

As an introvert, I am at my best one-on-one. Too much time with lots of people makes me long for bed & a good book. I dread parties unless they are among long-time friends, and even then I am the first to leave. Unfortunately, my extroverted husband likes to be the last one standing. We compromise.

Many introverts suffer from social anxiety, now a recognized psychological condition. This explains why some people drink too much at parties. They are self-medicating. I have full blown phobias, so a little anxiety is like being a half pound overweight for me. Many extroverts are chronically overbooked and dive head-first into center stage, where they bask with pleasure.

I love people. I really do. But I also crave an abundance of alone time. I mean, like weeks and months where I go into my writing room and only come out to eat and sleep. I thought when I joined a writer’s organization, I’d meet kindred souls. Instead I found myself chairing a conference committee, the second in the last few years.

Introverts should not chair committees.

May is conference month and it cannot come and go soon enough for me. The event itself will be a challenge, but it’s the preparation and dealing with a committee of extroverts that really has me in a tizzy. I like to do things alone. Or with one other person. I do not shine when there are a dozen writers revising a simple letter, which is happening now and driving me insane.

The real trick for an introvert who finds herself in an extrovert-filled situation is to double up on the meditation. Or medication, or both. Because if we don’t, our nerves will fray until we lash out at others who are simply being who they are: extroverts.

Sweet Melissa & More

With two second-in-series novels ready to debut into the e-book and print world within a month or so of each other, I am focused on the third book in each series. Ideas pop, plotlines entice, characters beckon. “Come to California,” say David and Melissa from the third in my Traveling Girl series. Love this original cover art by beautiful & talented Bodicia.

“We need you in Blue Lake,” say Fast Eddie and his first love, from coastal Michigan.

What’s a writer to do?

Well, if you’re like me, that’s easy. First, I go with inspiration. It doesn’t happen that often anymore and I take advantage of it when it does, even if it’s just to write snippets of conversation or a plot idea. Lots of songs spinning ’round the turntable in my head, too, suggesting mood.

Second on my list is writing to deadline, and that’s easier since for the #indie Traveling Girl series I make my own deadlines, thank you. Which means, Eddie, contracted for October, you are up.

Fast Eddie’s Bar & Grill shows up in the first two Blue Lake novels,  and at the time the name “Fast Eddie’s” was just one of those things that came to me. I don’t tend to question stuff like that. I liked it, I used it, I moved on. Ha!

Now I’m playing with the idea of just how Eddie got that Fast attached to his name. I have a few ideas…

As I begin the third books, and the second ones prepare to make their bows, treat yourself to the firsts in these series, Gypsy is New Adult paranormal and Blue Heaven is contemporary romance.

Go on, you know you want to:)

Celebration Central

Finally opened my rusty heart. Hadn’t known it was closed, although all evidence pointed that way. For several years, I eschewed invitations to family holiday parties hosted by  friends because they made me miss my own family and the days back when, every holiday, my house was Celebration Central. Why did I say yes this year when Donna invited Al & me for Easter dinner?

I didn’t think about it, just did not shut down as per usual when the words “family” and “get-together” are mentioned in the same sentence.  As I filled an Easter basket with goodies, I thought about this new thing I was doing. How would it be, seeing grandparents, parents, children and grandchildren? Would I be sad? Would my heart seize?

I was not and it did not. I have known this family since my own boys were small. That’s Patrick and his daughters: Juliette on his lap and baby Lilianna in her chair.  Pat and my son Mike were great pals.

When I remarked to Donna’s sister that we hadn’t seen her in too many years, maybe since the cruise, her husband piped up to say they’d seen me up at the cottage not all that long ago. Yes, I remembered. That was the last time I danced on a chair. So it was a little while ago. We’d all matured, some more than others.

Dan had a devilish gleam to his eye. I blushed and shook my head at how silly I had been after one too many glasses of wine. Even full of wine, I remember walking after midnight with Donna to the dock. We settled back to watch the stars, Stony Lake pooling under us, surrounding us, stars from the sky reflecting on the water’s surface. So many stars. Like heaven opened up and shook out an extra handful just for us.

Yesterday, four generations gathered, two dozen in all. We knew every face, every story. These were friends who had turned into family a long time ago, without me noticing. But my heart noticed. And Celebration Central turns out to be located within the heart as well as around the dinner table.

#1 Fear Banished

Among my many phobias, I’ve conquered only one. But it’s a biggie. The #1 ranked fear shared by so many: fear of public speaking. I hated presenting in college and high school, suffered through speech classes, shuddered to even introduce myself in a group.

That’s why I’m a writer. I work alone, communicate easily online, love my blog, am addicted to Twitter. The first time I walked into a classroom and realized that I had to actually talk to these people, I wanted to turn around and run back out. What was I thinking?

I was thinking a degree or two in English would be fun: lots of reading and writing, my favorite things. And I could teach, which to me seemed like discussing exactly what I loved. Ha. I was in denial about the “talking” part, and to this day I work really hard to get my students to do most of the talking in class.

When I published my first book in 2007, I realized I needed to promote it at least a little bit. I had 1,000 copies in my closet that were not going to move themselves.

I arranged to give a two-part talk at my local library, and I only got through it because I took a pill that many actors and musicians use to stop the fear of public performance. I felt energized on that stage with a room full of people who had come to hear me. This was a very different audience from a room full of teenagers forced to read poetry and novels. I liked those talks and wished I could feel that way without meds.

Duty done, I went back to routinely refusing all offers to speak about my books. I read one poem at a writer’s function, because it won a prize and they paid me. When the hostess asked me to read the longer piece, which had also won, I declined. The poem was hard enough!

Just last week I was invited to read a poem or short bit of prose with a group of writers and I declined, automatically. And then I remembered: I wasn’t afraid to speak in pubic anymore. Magically, that fear had evaporated.

It happened at a workshop called “Public Speaking for Writers” facilitated by The Write Concept‘s Linda Anger (pronounced Ahn-Jay). Sounded like something I needed, so I signed on. Right away she had us warming up with partners in preparation to speak in front of the group. I am fine one-on-one but was dreading the going to the front of the room and claiming the floor part.

I walked to my doom, clutching the notes I’d taken. And suddenly, something lifted. I felt it. I was as comfortable as if I were in the last weeks of a semester with a great, engaged class. I was having fun. I loved it.

So, maybe teaching for many years helped, maybe Linda has some kind of magic not in pill form, probably both. I don’t think it was a coincidence that my life-long fear of public speaking vanished at the moment I stood in front of Linda’s DWW workshop. I think, between the two of us, we banished it.