Allyson Charles's Blog, page 7

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Ren Faire for the Novice

Last weekend I went to the annual Renaissance Faire. Of course it was during a heat wave, and the location of the faire was fifteen degrees hotter than my hometown, but I digress.  I went with a friend who goes every year, and with a sister who, like me, might have gone once before and long ago, but can’t quite remember.Wowza, you’d think I’d remember. It was something. The costumes, the food, the accents…these people do quite the job at recreating merry olde England. (Okay, the cupcake stand probably wouldn’t have existed in the sixteenth century, but I forgave that inaccuracy because, cupcakes.)First thing I learned, it was totally fine not to go in costume. No scathing remarks or looks were cut my way.  No tomatoes hurled. Second, I got a renewed appreciation for cutlery. Food on a stick, turkey legs, and hand pies all leave fingers and mouth greasy. The inevitable bit of food always seemed to drop on my shirt, shorts, shoe (hey, that bacon wrapped popper on a stick was messy, and cheese was squirting everywhere – don’t judge), and never just land on the ground. A knife and fork would not have gone amiss. I’d thought that by the Renaissance those utensils had come into use, but whatever. Everyone wants their giant turkey leg.The jousting was fun, and that’s where I think I could legitimately write off the ticket price as a business expense (the IRS would probably disagree). Good looking guys thrusting long poles at each other and then rolling around on the ground fighting? Well, that’s a romance writer’s dream scene. I’m writing a Regency series (under a different pen name), but I could see going back another couple hundred years for my setting. Although in the back of my mind always lurks the knowledge of the poor hygiene of the time. It’s hard to make sexy the fact that women didn’t wash their hair but once a year and everyone smelled like livestock. I guess that’s where creative license comes in.

Alpha Hero or Alpha-Hole?

I know this question gets knocked around a lot, but I’m in the midst of reading a book where I just can’t believe the male lead is the hero. Unless there is a lobotomy in his near future, I don’t see how he will ever be likeable. Is it really that fine a line between a strong man and a raging a-hole, which the author just happened to trip over? Or are there women out there who actually like the idea of being blackmailed by a condescending git into an unwanted marriage?Maybe there are some women who can forgive and forget, and move on to their HEA, but that ain’t me. If the reason for his blackmail winds up being semi-sympathetic (and by that, I mean there’d better be a plot twist where his being married somehow saves his sister’s life), I might be able to forgive. But I’d never forget. Maybe the heroine shouldn’t run him over with her SUV, but she darn sure shouldn’t fall in love with someone who treats her so badly. I can’t even imagine the amount of groveling it would take for me. I think I’m like a cat when it comes to relationships. They don’t forget, and they understand revenge.I guess when it comes to my book boyfriends, I don’t mind if they’re tough as nails (okay jerks) to other people, but they’d better treat their heroine right, or they don’t get another read from me.That said, in my third book in my Pineville series (coming out May 2017), I’m trying to redeem a character who was a dill-hole in a previous book. Hopefully I’ll walk that tightrope without falling off. Wouldn’t want a reader to be as unforgiving as I am. :)(If you want to see a cat’s revenge in action, watch this link. Lesson: never poke a big cat in the face with a stick. They will mess you up.)

Marketing Woes (and Doughs)

You’ve finally written a book, sent it off, and lucky you, it gets published! Job done, right? Not so fast. Now you have to promote and market your work. To that end, my publisher has asked me to contribute a recipe of any holiday food I might have written about in my next novel, THE CHRISTMAS TREE. It’s for their upcoming holiday issue of their magazine. My heroine, Sadie, bakes cookies in several scenes, so easy-peesy, right?Just one catch. The recipe has to be original. I don’t have any original cookie recipes. I’m more of a back of the Tollhouse bag kind of gal. So, since I absolutely had to, I spent my night trying to create my own recipe for peanut butter cookies. And then I had to taste test them all. Cookie after delicious cookie. It was sweet, sweet torture.If only all marketing tactics involved butter and sugar.Coincidentally, my sister, author of the Pie Town cozy mystery series, also was asked to provide recipes. Just a couple of days ago I was the lucky taste-tester of one of her delicious pies. Who’d have thought that being a writer meant having to eat so many sweets?Sometimes, life is just rough.(PS: My spiced peanut butter drops turned out awesome. I’m usually 50/50 when it comes to my baking. 50 percent of the time I’m in gastronomical heaven. The other 50 percent, I need someone to tell me to put my beaters down and step out of the kitchen. I’m glad this was one of the happy-food-dance times.)

How to Deal with a Bad Review

I’m a new author, and I fully acknowledge there is a lot about the publishing business that I don’t yet know. But one thing I do know is that not everyone will like my books. I know this intellectually, but apparently subconsciously I’d hoped everyone would think I’m marvelous. What else could explain my shock and dismay when, gasp, I received a bad review? The horror!My publisher forwarded the review to me, which I guess they will for all the ones they request. I wish they wouldn’t have. I engaged in way too much navel-gazing over it. How could someone not like my hero? Sure, he starts out a bit of a dillhole, but it’s a redemption story. Am I doing something wrong? Should I have had him save a puppy in the beginning? Yes, as I said, way too much navel-gazing.But realistically, reading a bad review was probably for the best. Fate seems to have a way of knowing just when to knock you down a peg or two, and it was my time. Like when I made fun of my brother for having trouble getting out of our kayak on a Hawaiian vacation, and then when I got out, I not only toppled over our boat, but the Japanese tourists’ kayak next to ours. (On the positive side, one of those women did the cliff jump my brother and I were heading for, and she wouldn’t have if I hadn’t already dunked her. I think she had fun.)So, I had eagerly scanned the review, deep-down expecting it to be glowing, feeling much too smug with my decision to become a writer, and this was fate’s smack down. A reviewer who just couldn’t stand my leading man. After the initial fifteen minutes of moping, I kicked myself in the butt (metaphorically, of course - I’m not that bendy IRL) and realized sometimes you’ve just got to suck it up. I’m still happy with my life choices, a bad review can’t change that. And in the grand scheme of things, a bad review is such a minor problem, I’m ashamed I even wasted a minute brooding over it. There are people out there with real problems.I’vehad much bigger problems than this.  I think as a writer you can become too wrapped up in your own little world. Your mood rises and falls with your Amazon ranking. But that’s not healthy. You’ve got to be able to step back and realize what a small cog you are in the universe. And on a list of what matters in life, someone critiquing your work doesn't even make the top million.I’m going to keep striving to be a successful writer. I won’t let a bad review or two (or three) stop me. But if I never become a number-one bestseller, that will be okay, too. I’ve got great family and friends, and a job that I love. What the heck do I have to complain about? And if I can’t be philosophical enough to get out of my bad mood, there are always adorable lion and tiger cubs to look at. Yep, that will do it.

Whoo Hoo! Another one bites the dust.

Five minutes ago I hit send on my latest manuscript. Book number 3 in the Pineville series, WHY DID IT HAVE TO BE YOU?, is now in the hands of my publishers and I don't want to see it again for a long, long time. I like it, in fact I think the hero, David, is my favorite so far, but my eyes are bleeding from going over it again and again and again...Anyhoo, my little celebration consists of pomegranate sparkling wine and chocolate-covered almonds. (Don't judge, all you oenophiles. The fruity stuff is delicious.)  I'd like to relax for a couple of days, not think about my next book, but it feels like my next deadline is already looming. I really like the working out of my pajamas aspect of being a writer, but I guess this is the flipside. Always another deadline. Which, I guess is what we all have to deal with with normal jobs. So I'm going to drink my fruity champagne, stop whining, and enjoy the feeling of another project done.

Myth, Magic, and Inspiration

Every year or so I get that itch. You know the one I’m talking about. The one where you want to get in your car and just keep driving until the road runs out. Or head to the airport to catch the next plane, no matter where it’s going. The travel bug. I was bitten as a child during my family’s love for summer road trips, and have never quite recovered. I’m in the middle of planning my next trip (Utah national parks!), and I started looking through the pictures of my last one and thought I’d share some.My last trip out of the USA was a ten-day drive around Iceland. I didn’t quite know what to expect. Glaciers, yes. Waterfalls. And fingers-crossed, an aurora borealis. (That event was crossed off my bucket list my first night in Iceland, with a spectacular display.) But the atmosphere, the culture of the country, that was all a mystery.I can’t overemphasize how much Iceland exceeded my expectations. Yes, the people were friendly and ninety-five percent of them spoke English. And, yes, the sights were spectacular. But what struck me most was something I can hardly describe. The feeling that Iceland evokes in you is amazing. It feels magical, like anything could happen. I understood why Tolkien used it as his inspiration for Middle Earth. Why Jules Verne wrote Journey to the Center of the Earth using one of Iceland’s volcanoes as the entrance. Myth hangs heavy in Iceland, and it is easy to believe what you can’t see.I was there in early October, when the sun travelled a low arc across the sky. The dim autumn light probably contributed to the mystical feeling. But I know I’m not alone with my wonder. Iceland’s literary history is riddled with sagas and myth. Why did their writings tend to the fantastic? Where they lived had to have had an influence. And over half of Icelanders still believe in elves. Something about the country just draws you out of the ordinary.It’s easy to get inspired in Iceland. After reading about a female Viking pirate who is rumored to have given birth to the first European on North American soil, I started thinking there was a romance novel in there. (Not on the same literary scale as Jules Verne, I know. But, hey, I’m a romance writer, and that’s where my mind goes.) I haven’t written it, and might never get around to it, but if I ever do pursue that project, I know just where to go to do more research.(The picture of the aurora borealis was taken by Kirsten Weiss. The rest were mine.)

New Author Fail

My first book in the Pineville series, PUTTING OUT OLD FLAMES, was just published yesterday, today I finished going over the page proofs for the second book in that series, and I’m currently editing book three. And I’ve realized something that isn’t…so good. The heat levels in the books aren’t consistent. Like graphic anatomical description to flowery metaphor for a woman’s hoohaw inconsistent.I know it comes down to inexperience, and I wonder how many other authors experience the same sort of schizophrenia when it comes to their writing. If typically they write about ‘hard lengths’ and all of sudden a ‘throbbing c***’ gets dropped into the mix? I can’t be the only writer who’s had to do a Word search for naughty terms to clean them up.I like reading so many different types of romance, I find I want to write different types, as well. But that inconsistency shouldn't happen in the same series. For my part, I blame the Hallmark Channel. I’d been mainlining Hallmark Christmas movies at the time I wrote my second book, THE CHRISTMAS TREE, and the sweeter tone snuck in. But my natural style, I’m discovering, has a bit more heat, and that came out in PUTTING OUT OLD FLAMES. And then even more so in book three.Now I’m faced with a dilemma. Tone down book three and make the rest of the series consistent with THE CHRISTMAS TREE, leaving PUTTING OUT OLD FLAMES the odd, sexy man out. Or make book two the anomaly and match PUTTING OUT OLD FLAMES heat-level.  (And when I say PUTTING OUT OLD FLAMES is hotter than THE CHRISTMAS TREE, I don’t mean that it’s porno levels. And THE CHRISTMAS TREE definitely isn’t a sweet romance. There is sex, it’s just a chili pepper below my other work.)I want to write what comes naturally for me. And I’m coming to learn that means steaming up the sheets a bit more. So I’ll edit book three down to PUTTING OUT OLD FLAMES levels, and just hope that the slightly sweeter feel of book two won’t throw my readers for a loop.And I’ll leave my really naughty writing for a new historical series I just sold, pen name yet to be determined. After all, a woman shouldn’t be limited to just one style.

Rio 2016

Okay, so I don’t think I’m even a month into this blog, and I’m already not keeping to my posting schedule. Part of that I’m blaming on my upcoming deadline. But I’m laying a major part of the blame on the Olympics. (And yes, watching the Olympics every night when I have a manuscript due in three weeks probably isn’t the smartest use of my time. I realize that, but just can’t help myself.) Between men’s diving, beach volleyball, and gymnastics, who has time to think about a blog?All I can do is be thankful that most of the sports I like are winding up this week. Track and Field holds no power over me, and I will be back on schedule next week. But holy cow, was watching women’s gymnastics worth staying up till midnight. (Why broadcast up till midnight, NBC? I need my sleep.) Team America is absolutely as wonderful as they’ve been touted to be, although they could use some work on coming up with team names. The Final Five? That’s a fail in my book.Another fail is the IOC. First, allowing those who tested positive for drugs to compete, and second for letting obviously underage girls compete in gymnastics. I’m sorry, I don’t care how many passports or birth certificates I see, there is no way that one little girl in the China delegation is 16. No. Way.I know this had nothing to do with romance or writing, and I promise to get back on topic next week. And after tonight’s individual all-around in women’s gymnastics, I’ll get back on track with my deadline, too.But it’s hasn’t been a complete bust. I’m counting men’s diving as an inspirational tool for my writing. If these pics don’t get you in the mood for a little romance, I don’t know what will.

Writing the Great American Novel

I remember having a conversation with a client in my previous life as an attorney, when he asked me what it was I really wanted to do. My response was fairly immediate and I thought obvious: write the Great American Novel, of course.Who doesn’t want to write this fantastical tome? To be the next Hemingway? (Not that I’m a fan of that particular author, but that’s another story). But no ideas for that bit of Americana came, no words were ever put to paper. I loved to read mystery novels, so I thought, well, why not? I could be the next Dorothy Sayers. I do have a couple of half-finished manuscripts from that foray, but I always got lost in the plotting. When writing a genre so structured, you have to be extremely detail-oriented, and I had enough of that in my legal career. I wanted my writing life to be more free-style, less choreographed.And, being the complete idiot I was, I thought, why not romance novels? Those should be easy to write. And the romance industry is one of the more profitable ones in publishing. I hadn’t even read many before I decided that was the direction I would head. So, I started my reading list, and with each book I read, was pulled further and further into the genre. Much to my surprise, it became my favorite.I quickly found out that writing romance novels wasn’t easy – especially the dreaded sex scenes. But, I find that I can ramble my way through a manuscript without the need for extensive plotting. Just a boat load of editing.So, I’ve stopped dreaming about writing the Great American Novel (maybe), and just try to write entertaining books. I hope all my books are fun and sexy. And I hope people enjoy reading my work as much as I enjoy writing it.(Because anytime I say or write free-style, I think of Peanut Butter Jelly Time, I've included it here for our mutual viewing pleasure.)