Allison Chase's Blog, page 2

Happy Holiday Release & Giveaway: Excerpt 2

Fact: The Ascot Racetrack had fallen out of fashion and into disrepair during the reigns of George IV and William IV. In fact William didn't care much for horseracing at all. Though maybe that's hardly surprising – he wasn't exactly a spirited young man during the seven years of his reign. What brought the Royal Ascot back into fashion and made the Ascot Racetrack one of the most famous in the world began with a single occurrence: the attendance of England's new, young Queen Victoria during the first year of her reign.Victoria attended the opening day at the races with her beloved Prime Minister, Lord Melbourne, and the racing public found her so fresh and lovely and lively that suddenly everyone wanted to converge on Ascot for the races. During the next year, the stands were expanded and upgraded to provide luxuries and concessions for wealthy and middle class racing enthusiasts alike, or "turfites" as they were called.

Such is the power of celebrity. In fact, only a few years later, a picture of Victoria, husband Albert, and a few of their young children around their new Christmas tree circulated throughout Great Britain and America. Though holly and evergreen boughs had been part of the Christmas tradition, the notion of the Christmas tree was a new one, brought from Germany by Prince Albert. It was an instant success on both sides of the pond!

Excerpt:

Outside the Ascot Racecourse:

A sudden rumble snapped Holly out of her musings just in time for her to spot a sporty, open phaeton swinging out from between the stands. The vehicle barreled down the lane straight toward her. Scrambling to move out of the way, she darted across the road but realized the driver swerved in the same direction in his effort to avoid her. With the phaeton almost upon her, she could chance about-facing and hurrying back across the road . . . or dive into the roadside foliage.

Holly dove.

She landed facedown in a bed of peonies and primroses and something that prickled. Tiny pebbles pelted her back, and she heard hooves crunching on gravel and wheels skidding to a stop somewhere behind her.

An instant later, as she attempted to untwist her skirts from her legs, a pair of boots landed with a great thump beside her. A pair of strong hands closed around her upper arms and began lifting her from the ground.

"Madam? Good heavens, madam, are you hurt? Did the carriage strike you? Can you speak?"

All this rushed out in a deeply rumbling baritone, and a familiar one at that, before she was even upright. Her bonnet had tipped askew, covering one eye, and with the other she peeked out from under the brim. Could the man who had nearly run her down be who she thought he was?

Could she be so lucky?

She reached up and shoved her errant bonnet back off her brow so hard it slipped off and bounced from its ribbons against her back.

"Madam, I am dreadfully sorry. I never expected anyone to be walking to the course today and was not paying proper attention—"

As his mouth dropped open she drew a steadying breath. "Lord Drayton, good afternoon."

He gaped at her for more seconds than any self-respecting earl should ever gape at anyone or anything. "Miss Sutherland?"

She nodded, unnecessarily of course, for disheveled though she may be, there could be no question as to her identity. Colin Ashworth knew her well enough.

"But . . ." His apparent astonishment could have been no greater than if she had fallen out of the sky. "What are you doing here?"

"I . . . er . . . that is . . ." With the back of her fingers she brushed tattered flower petals from her lap.

"Good grief, forgive me." He slid an arm around her back and, rising, gently pulled her up alongside him. For a few tantalizing seconds she savored the strength of his arm around her. Then it slipped away. His hand, however, hovered just beneath her elbow, as though he feared she might suddenly swoon. He bent his face close to hers, his sharp blue eyes roving over her until her skin heated. "Are you quite all right? Do you require a physician?"

"No, no, I'm fine. Truly." She paused a moment to assess the accuracy of that statement. She felt no blood trickling from anywhere, nor anything more serious than a dull ache in her hands and knees from when she'd struck the ground. She smiled an assurance. "No lasting damage. Oh, but I cannot say as much for the flowers."

A Holly-sized depression marred the perfect symmetry of the flowerbed that lined the drive from the road to the portico of the royal stand. Lord Drayton gazed down at the crushed chaos of pink, yellow, and violet, released a long-suffering breath and shook his head.

"Flowers can be replanted," he said, yet the shadow that momentarily darkened his countenance suggested he regretted the demise of the flora more than he cared to admit. True, as a top breeder of Thoroughbreds, Colin Ashworth was a member of the Jockey Club, which meant that everything to do with the Ascot Royal Meeting would be of vital interest to him.

Even, she supposed, the gardening.

Then it struck her: his claim of not expecting anyone to be walking to the course today smacked of an admonishment, as if he blamed her for being there. He would never say as much, of course, but that flicker in his eyes betrayed a hidden emotion. . . .

She shrugged away the thought as he held her hand and helped her step back onto the gravel lane.

"How coincidental that of all the people I might nearly have run down today, it should be you, Miss Sutherland," he said. "What will your sisters think of me?"

"Actually, I believe the word is providential, my lord, for I'd hoped to run into you while in Ascot. Not literally, of course, but all the same."

A FEW MINUTES LATER…

Colin watched his sister sweep Miss Sutherland away, unsure if he should be annoyed or relieved. Surely now, with distance between them, his pulse would ease back down to its normal pace.

Not that he believed for a moment that his sister played the accommodating hostess out of purely unselfish reasons, or that she had developed a sudden admiration for Miss Sutherland. Sabrina was toying with him, no doubt devising ways she might use Miss Sutherland to strike back at him for his failure to intervene when their father withheld his permission for her to marry Frederick Cates…

…Sabrina seemed intent on pressing her advantage with information Colin had months ago predicted he would have cause to regret. At Ivy and Simon's wedding, his astute sister had quietly studied him, noting his every movement and expression, until, satisfied she had guessed the truth, she had confronted him with a shrewd smirk.

Why, brother, it appears you are quite taken with the new Lady Harrow's sister. A former shopkeeper, no less.

Don't be ridiculous.

Oh, but your scowl tells all. You like her, but you don't wish to like her. . . .

It had been the red hair that had first caught his notice. He had always loved thick, fiery curls, and Miss Sutherland possessed those in abundance. He'd never forget that morning soon after the wedding when he, Simon, Ivy, and Miss Sutherland had gone out riding together at Simon'sCambridgeestate. Miss Sutherland's cap had gone flying off and her hair had tumbled down her back. . . .

Whether she'd noticed or not, she'd kept riding, urging her mount faster until she had opened a substantial distance between herself and the others. Worried for her safety and leaving Simon and Ivy behind, Colin had spurred his mount to catch up, only to discover her completely in control and barely winded from her gallop. When they'd finally stopped beside the river to rest the horses, she'd turned to him with laughter spilling from her generous lips, joy glittering in her verdant eyes, and her wind-tossed curls dancing like flames about her rosy cheeks.

To this day he didn't know if it had been the red hair, the laughter, or the realization that here was a woman unafraid to express her delight. What a refreshing departure from the icy debutants the society matrons forever tossed in his path, prudish young women who wanted him for his future title and fortune and little else.

That day, he had discovered countless tiny details about Miss Sutherland that he liked—liked exceedingly well. But that hadn't stopped a single, formidable obstacle from standing between them.

He was the Duke of Masterfield's son, and from an early age he'd known it was his duty to marry an heiress, a woman who would bring land and further wealth to augment the Ashworth holdings. More important to Colin, he was Thaddeus Ashworth's son. He bore a scar or two to prove it, and there was no way in hell he'd ever bring an innocent, ingenuous woman like Holly Sutherland within arm's length of a man like his father…

~

Leave a comment for a chance to win a copy of RECKLESSLY YOURS and/or a $15 e-gift certificate! Stop back each day through Sunday for more chances to win! Winners will be chosen by Random.org on Monday.

Tagged: giveaway, Her Majesty's Secret Servants, Horseracing, Recklessly Yours, Royal Ascot, The Sutherland Sisters

Happy Holiday Release & Giveaway! Excerpt 1

I was going to wait till tomorrow to post the first excerpt, but what the heck, let's get started!

Fact: Queen Victoria's reign wasn't always a smooth one. In the early years, before she married, she made some very human mistakes – and let's not forget she was only 18 when she took the throne – mistakes that upset a lot of people. There was the Flora Hastings affair. Flora Hastings was a friend of Victoria's mother who became one of the queen's ladies-in-waiting. Right there, she had a strike against her, and Victoria was certain the woman was spying on her and reporting back to the Duchess of Kent. Then Flora became ill with a stomach tumor, and Victoria accused the woman of being pregnant out of wedlock. It caused an awful scandal and did much to hurt Victoria's credibility.

Then there was the Bedchamber Crisis, whenVictoria refused to change her Whig ladies-in-waiting for Tory, or Conservative, ones, despite the fact that Robert Peel, himself a Tory, was now prime minister. He was so put out by Victoria's refusal that he immediately stepped down, allowing Victoria's favorite, Lord Melbourne, to take up the reins of government once more. While these incidents might have been forgiven and forgotten, anti-royalist sentiments were growing in Great Britain, and the so-called "Radical Reformists" seized any opportunity to strengthen their bid to do away with the monarchy. In these early years,Victoria's position was a tenuous one.

Luckily for her, she had the Sutherland Sisters, who were willing to risk their lives, hearts and even their virtue to protect their queen and friend!

Excerpt: (How it begins…)

Windsor,England

Spring 1839

…Holly and the footman threaded their way through a maze of courtyards, stables, and outbuildings, Roger's steady pace prompting her to grit her teeth to keep from asking him to please hurry. Voices reached her ears, along with the clanging and clunking of the stable hands beginning their morning tasks. She rounded a corner into another enclosure, where a team of workers scurried back and forth carrying buckets, brushes, rakes, and armfuls of snaking tack. They seemed to have reached the very heart of the mews. The footman stopped before a heavy-looking door, reached into his pocket, and brought out a jangling set of keys.

She was surprised to step into a cozy room furnished with a faded but comfortable-looking settee and a small oak table and chairs; a cheery fire flickered in a small brick fireplace. The effect was of a slightly shabby retreat, the furniture too worn to remain in a drawing-room but adequate enough to accommodate the queen's hunting parties.

"Her majesty's private salon, miss," Roger explained, confirming Holly's guess. "Do make yourself comfortable, if you please." With that, he turned on his heel and left her alone. She had no choice but to contain her impatience and wait.

It was all very puzzling. But even more puzzling had been the note Roger himself had delivered, only hours ago, to the Knightsbridge Readers' Emporium, the London bookshop owned jointly by Holly and her sisters.

Dearest Holly,

I need you—and only you. You must come to me at Windsor at once! Tell no one. Except your sisters, of course. But please make no delay!

                                           Yours,

                                            V

She'd barely had time to comprehend the note's meaning—that, like her sisters Laurel and Ivy before her, she was being called to the service of her country—before she had found herself scurrying to pack a bag, bid her sisters goodbye, and board the waiting brougham. Without further explanation, she had been whisked out of the city and across a moonlit countryside.

A clatter of footsteps echoed in the hall. Just before the door swung wide, Holly jumped up from the settee. A petite figure swathed in a cape of sumptuous forest-green velvet swept through the doorway, andEngland's queen flipped back her hood and stretched out her hands. "My dearest Holly, thank goodness you are here!"

They rushed to each other, and Holly found herself enfolded in an embrace that for several lovely seconds renewed every sweet facet of the friendship that had marked her childhood years.

Here before her stood the only real friend she and her sisters had known during their sheltered upbringing at Uncle Edward's country estate—and vice versa. As heir presumptive, little Princess Victoria had been allowed precious few influences beyond those of her mother and John Conroy, a man who early on had designs on controlling the throne Victoria would eventually occupy. At her mother's insistence, the common-born Sutherland sisters had been tolerated against John Conroy's advice only due to their father's military ties toVictoria's father, the deceased Duke of Kent.

The past, with all of its childish secrets, promises, hopes, and dreams, flooded Holly's heart as she pressed her cheek toVictoria's. They had been orphans together, the Sutherland sisters and this dear, lonely little girl. But asVictoria's importance to England grew, Holly and her sisters were deemed less and less suitable to be her companions.

Now she was their queen and could acknowledge their friendship openly if she chose to, which she did not because of one imperative matter.

We will always be your friends . . . your secret servants if need be. Holly and her sisters had spoken those words to the child Victoria nearly a decade ago, on a sunny summer's day in Uncle Edward's rose garden. At the time, none of them could have guessed what that pledge would lead to. In the past year, Laurel, the eldest, and Ivy, Holly's twin, had each risked death in the service of their queen, though neither had quite explained to Victoria the dangers they had faced.

Risk, danger, fear . . . the vow had incurred all that and more for Laurel and Ivy. And now—oh, now it was Holly's turn to finally stray from the safety of everyday life and embark on her own adventure.

Did that frighten her, even just a little? Good heavens, yes. It was a sensation that made her feel alive, vibrant, important. . . .

Victoria's arms came away, and Holly stepped back to gaze into her friend's face with a smile she could hardly restrain. "What is it you need me to do?"

Victoria rattled off her needs like items on a shopping list. "Prevent an international incident. Save the monarchy. Save me."

Leave a comment for a chance to win a copy of RECKLESSLY YOURS and/or a $15 e-gift certificate! Stop back each day through Sunday for more chances to win! Winners will be chosen by Random.org on Monday.

Tagged: giveaway, Her Majesty's Secret Servants, Historical Romance, Queen Victoria, Recklessly Yours, Victorian Romance

Happy Thanksgiving!

The cranberry sauce is made and the girls are getting ready to put the pumpkin pies in the oven. The turkey has been defrosting in the fridge for days, and everything else is waiting to be peeled, mixed, etc. in the morning. We're a small group for dinner tomorrow but it'll still be a lot of work – but I don't care. I love this holiday. Yes, even with all the family dysfunction. We just smile and move past it. OK, sometimes I have to send a few pointed glares around the dining table, especially if the talk turns political. But the point is, in the end we all appreciate being together.

Tomorrow I'm taking a break from worrying about anything I can't control. I won't turn on the news, so THOSE people won't drive me crazy with doom and gloom. And I'm definitely not planning on getting on line at midnight for Black Friday bargains. Instead, I'm going to enjoy having the family together. I'm going to eat too much and enjoy every bite, and WILL NOT FEEL GUILTY ABOUT IT. Later I'll put my feet up and relax, and hopefully watch some sappy holiday movie. Sounds good to me!

How will you celebrate the day?

Zesty Cranberry Sauce: one bag of cranberries, one cup of water, one cup of sugar, orange zest, orange juice. Boil water and sugar, add cranberries, and return to boil. Stir gently while cranberries pop and make the house smell amazing. As it thickens, grate in some orange zest and squeeze in some juice. When you've got a nice, thick consistency, remove from heat and let cool to room temperature before refrigerating.

Our Pumpkin Pie: we follow the recipe on the can of pumpkin except for one thing – we cut the cinnamon in half. We'd rather taste the pumpkin with only a hint of cinnamon.

The Secret of a Perfectly Cooked Turkey: Shh…come closer. Are you listening? OK. For a juicy and tender bird, you don't have to buy the expensive brand. I never do. The secret is…those pop-up turkey timers that you can buy separately. Seriously. When that puppy pops, the turkey is ready. Works like a charm.

Have a wonderful day! Gobble gobble!

Tagged: cranberry sauce, pumpkin pie, Thanksgiving, turkey

Girls And Horses: A Great Love Affair

What is it with adolescent girls and horses? If you don't know what I mean, then maybe that particular bug didn't bite you when you were younger, but when I was about 10 or so, I suddenly became all out horse-crazy. All I wanted to do was ride, be around horses, become a jockey like Elizabeth Taylor in National Velvet.

My parents put up with it, but they hated the whole idea of me riding. It was dangerous. Horses are big, dumb animals that can't be trusted, etc., etc. I guess I can't blame them. Horse are big! But dumb? Not in my experience. They're like any other domesticated animal. Establish a rapport with them, earn their trust, and you've got a loving, loyal friend. I was never lucky enough to own a horse, but I took lessons and rode as often as I could, and a couple even became my special friends through the years.

Even now, I can't explain why so many girls turn horse-crazy. But I do know that during a time of such physical and emotional upheaval, riding is a fantastic confidence-builder. I was about 11 when I started riding. I was a tiny kid and not particularly athletic in the usual sense, but learning that even without muscles I had the ability to control this huge animal filled me with pride and a real sense of accomplishment.

It was also more fun than anything, exciting, and absolutely liberating, as close to flying as a human can come without actually leaving the ground. There's nothing like galloping across a field with the ground blurring beneath you. Nothing like soaring over a jump (and realizing you're still in the saddle, lol). Nothing like the focus and rhythm that takes over while your troubles and concerns melt away. And that's something every girl needs.

I rarely ride anymore, but I remember the feeling, and I remember how much I loved it. And I've put all those treasured memories into Holly, the heroine of RECKLESSLY YOURS, whose vow to serve the queen sends her on a quest to recover a stolen Thoroughbred colt. Her love and affinity for horses makes her the perfect person to find the colt, until the question arises as to what's best for this extraordinary animal. Then, suddenly, Holly's love for horses…and her growing love for the very man who stole him…threaten to undermine her loyalty to queen and country.

In a very personal way, this is a book of my heart. I hope it becomes a book of the heart for every reader who ever fell head-over-heels in love with horses and riding. RECKLESSLY YOURS will be out on Dec. 6th!

That's me at about 12 years old.

Were you/are you a horse lover? What else were you passionate about when you were growing up?

Tagged: Her Majesty's Secret Servants, horseback riding, horses, Recklessly Yours, riding

Creative Licence or Just Plain Idiocy?

If you've read any of my series, Her Majesty's Secret Servants, you'll know I'm all for creative licence in fiction. I've always liked "what if" and "coulda been" scenarios, as long as the basic historical facts are adhered to. For instance, the whole concept of Victoria having childhood friends she adored and trusted goes against what history tells us. She grew up isolated in Kensington Palace and strictly controlled by her ambitious mother. Ok, but SECRET friends is the operative word here, and during the course of the books I explain how the Sutherland sisters are connected to Victoria, and why it was so important their identities remained a secret. In everything else about Victoria, I stuck very closely to the truth based on my research. Thus, Her Majesty's Secret Servants becomes a possibility, at least in the realm of fiction.

What I didn't do was have Victoria secretly married or secretly an unwed mother, or put her in places or situations she couldn't possibly have been in. If I had I'd have been committing the unpardonable sin of lying to my readers. Even in Outrageously Yours, the science I included was as close to the possibilities of the times as my very unscientific mind could muster (except, of course, for one very special feat achieved by my hero, but we won't go into that).

The other day I saw a certain movie that I'd seen advertised and praised. I went with high hopes and an open mind inspired by the casting, if nothing else. And if not for that cast and their talents, I'm sure I would have walked out long before the very unsatisfying conclusion. I can't tell you how long I spent just trying to match up what they were telling me with what I know to be true. It was like trying to assemble a puzzle with pieces that simply don't fit no matter how you turn them. What was supposed to be a revealing look at one of literature's most beloved individuals was somehow turned into a sordid, pointless, sad piece of sensationalism with no, and I do mean no redeemable characters, or message. And for that I paid $10.50.

If you want to know exactly what I'm talking about, read this recent New York Times article, which states it all beautifully. It's a bit long, but once you start I think you'll want to finish it. The writer voices the issue with wit, style and razor-sharp honesty.

It's one thing to rewrite history for entertainment value – um, Robin Hood, Men In Tights? – but at least be honest about it and don't try to pass it off as a serious theory and historically possible.

So how much creative licence is OK? Where should the line be drawn? And how do I get my money back?

Tagged: Her Majesty's Secret Servants, historical accuracy, movies, New York Times, OUTRAGEOUSLY YOURS, Queen Victoria

November Contests!

Is there anything more fun than free stuff? No! So to get everyone in the holiday spirit, in November I'm participating in two great giveaways. First, check out The Romance Reviews (TRR) for their Year End Splash Party. There are more than 200 authors participating and fantastic prizes to be won! You need to register at TRR first in order to play. Just click on the poster below.

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Then at Goodreads I'll be giving away three copies of my December release, RECKLESSLY YOURS – Book 3 of Her Majesty's Secret Servants. This is Holly's story, along with Colin Ashworth from OUTRAGEOUSLY YOURS. Holly is a horse-lover and a feisty redhead. Isn't the cover gorgeous?
 


Goodreads Book Giveaway

Recklessly Yours

by Allison Chase

Giveaway ends December 05, 2011.

See the giveaway details

at Goodreads.

Enter to win

 
So hurray for free stuff! Enter starting tomorrow, Nov. 1st, and good luck!
To find out more about Holly and her sisters, you can find them here.
 

Tagged: Free Stuff, giveaways, Goodreads, Her Majesty's Secret Servants, Holly Sutherland, Recklessly Yours, The Romance Reviews, Year End Splash Party

Readers, May We Talk?

Last week I attended my first ever Novelists Inc. conference. For those of you who aren't familiar with "Ninc," it's an organization for published authors dedicated to furthering members' careers and sharing information.

This year's conference was held in St. Pete, FL, and featured authors, editors, agents, and industry professionals such as Mark Coker of Smashwords. My head was swimming from all the amazing information these people shared and I'm only now going through my notes and typing them up, but here are a few of the impressions I came home with.

The first is this: "Don't write the book of your heart, write the book of your readers' hearts." And being able to do that entails "Listening to your readers, rather than always talking to them." Writers often become so focused on promoting their newest releases to readers that they forget to join in book discussions as readers. We have singular opportunities nowadays to do just that through Facebook, Goodreads, etc., and authors need to take advantage of that kind of two-way communication.

Speaking of which…

Communication is key in selling books and furthering an author's career, and readers can help! We understand that readers can't run out and buy every book they might like to – especially these days – but there are other ways they can help support their favorite authors.

Simply hitting those "like" buttons on Amazon helps an author's sales rank. Mentioning your favorite authors on Facebook and sharing links to their websites and books pages on Twitter helps spread the word, too. If you see a blog post by an author you like, consider leaving a comment because, as I always say, activity generates more activity and makes an author feel loved! Seriously, nothing makes us happier than when a fan comments on a blog post.

Thanks to the digital age and independent author publishing, the connection between readers and writers is closer than at any other time in history – and it's getting even closer all the time. This means readers now have the power to influence in a much bigger way what's being written, according to their interests and tastes. And that opens a new world of possibilities and opportunities – for readers and authors.

To paraphrase something Mark Coker said, "The majority of people in the world today have a bookstore in their pocket." To my mind, that's a lot like having the world at your fingertips!

Tagged: Amazon, authors, Digital publishing, Facebook, Goodreads, NINC, Novelists Inc., readers, Smashwords [image error]

Whatever You Can Do I Can Do Better…???

A couple of weeks ago I had dinner at a friend's house. She had invited her two cousins, both of whom have read my books and were excited at the idea of having "dinner with the author." It was a really lovely "girls night" with fabulous food and good conversation. Of course, one of the questions they asked me was how did I get started writing. I mentioned my lifelong love of writing, how I'd always kept diaries, written poetry and stories, long letters to friends…you name it, I wrote it. I also cited my fascination with history, probably beginning with the fairy tales I'd heard/read as a young child. I talked about how when a friend published her first novel, it really inspired me to sit down and give it a try.  And then…

…my friend added, "Not to mention reading a lot of books and thinking 'I could do this so much better.'"

Do you think I politely let this statement pass? My reaction went something like this:

Screech! Whiplash! WHAT?? No, no no!!!

If there is one thing I've learned in this journey of mine, it's that those who make that claim, that they can do it better, generally CAN'T. Oh, it's a common misconception held by avid readers and I couldn't really fault her, but I immediately endeavored to set her straight.

Not every book an author writes is going to be fantastic. Sometimes life throws obstacles that affect one's creativity, but with a deadline looming a writer does her best.

Until you walk in someone else's shoes, you can't judge their performance. If you say you can do it better, then try doing it under the exact same circumstances as the author, and see how it turns out.

It's all so subjective. What you believe could have been done better, might be someone else's idea of the most wonderful book ever.  

Writing is 100% harder than most people think. It isn't simply sitting down and recording your daydreams. It's more like working on a giant jigsaw puzzle where all the pieces look the same until you decide what part of the image will go on each one.

Oh, I could go on and on. It's perfectly valid to say, "I didn't care for that book, and here's why." But to say "I can do it better"? Watch out! Someone just might challenge you to do it.

And then you'll see. Boy, will you ever!

 

Tagged: authors, writing, writing challenges

In Defense of The Little Guy

So you might be wondering….have I taken up a new cause? Maybe I've decided to champion petite people everywhere? (Hey, I am one!) Or then again, "the little guy" is often used to refer to plain, ordinary people. You know, the ones who tend to get stepped on by the big shots of the world. We could certainly use defending against them, right?

But no, in this case I am bravely standing tall and taking a firm stance in defense of…

One of the tiniest entities in all of literature: the comma.

Yes, that's right. The maligned, ignored, misused comma. It's a simple bit of punctuation that, when placed just right, properly separates phrases and imbues our language with much of its nuances. And yet, for decades now writers have been warned off the comma with such claims as "they slow the reader down!" Really? When was the last time a comma hooked itself to your eyes and refused to let them move across the page?  

But the real problem seems to be that a lot of writers have forgotten the proper use of the comma – or maybe they never learned. Besides being a writer, I'm also an editor, and in addition to that right now I"m judging contest entries. And I'm constantly seeing things like, Or or  or  In that last one, Smiling Mary would be her name, right? I could go on and on, but the point is that the placement of a comma affects the meaning of the sentence. It's not random, and it's not up to the whim of the writer.

Do I sound like I'm pet-peeving? Darn right I am. Or should that be: darn right, I am? But I spend more time moving commas around from wrong places to where they're actually needed than I do focusing on story content. There are a lot of great writers on the horizon when it comes to theme, emotion, character interaction, etc., but if I had to make an estimate, I'd say a good 90% of new writers have little or no clue about punctuation.

C'mon, people, get a clue! (not: C'mon people get a clue).

Oh, and P.S., the comma, semi-colon, and colon are not interchangeable! 

 

Tagged: Comma, commas, punctuation

Instinct vs. Intellect

I once heard a very famous plotting/story guru touting the notion that writers should never rely on instinct, but should take a more objective, intellectual approach to their work (I'm paraphrasing, but that was the gist.) Instinct, he said, is really nothing more than the sum total of everything we've ever read or seen in movies, and will therefore lead us to rely on cliched and unoriginal thinking.

Well, I agree that during the editing/revision process, we do need to switch from our right-brained creativity to a more left-brained, critical mode, and yes, we need to think "outside the box" to use a truly clichéd term. But I SO disagree that we should ignore our instincts when writing that first draft.

Something happened yesterday that illustrates the point I want to make. My husband and I were getting on the turnpike through the sunpass lane, and realized suddenly that the car ahead of us had come to a full stop and was just sitting there – waiting for what, I don't know. I'm sure he didn't have a sunpass and didn't know what to do. Anyway, my husband had to hit the brakes, and since the road was wet we fishtailed a bit. Without even realizing he did it, hubby thrust a hand out in front of me to hold me in my seat. Pure instinct. Intellect might have told him that I was wearing my seatbelt and wouldn't have been thrown forward into the dashboard, but his instinct warned of danger and urged him to protect.

It left me with a warm feeling that lasted all day. My hero! But here's my point. Instinct reaches deep down to what is most important to us at the core of who we are. It's our humanity, when you strip away all the outer trappings that society tells us we need. It's what inspires us to feel, to be spontaneous, to love. Maybe I was missing the plotting guru's point, but I do know that when a writer over-intellectualizes and over-perfects their story, they run the risk of losing the spontaneity of the characters, the depth of the emotions, and the magic that reaches into a reader's deepest core, grabs their heart, and leaves them sighing at the end.

So don't be afraid of your instincts. Embrace them. They're you at your most honest.