Carol Newman Cronin's Blog, page 28

Author Conversation #4: Marie Force

New York Times and USA Today bestselling romance author Marie Force is a “force” to be reckoned with and a self-publishing poster child. She cranks out multiple books each year, and more than half fit into the #coastalfiction genre, thanks to their settings in and around Newport and Block Island.

She is the only author I’ve met who employs a team of people to promote and package her books—and the only single author (self-published or otherwise) who’s earned her own bookcase (several shelves) in our local independent bookstore, Island Books. Somehow, she also manages to make time for helping out other authors.

I first met Marie when she came to speak at the Jamestown Philomenian Library. For two hours, without any props, she entranced a large group with the stories behind her stories—how she made it, and how she keeps what she calls The House that Jack Built going. Recently I reached out to ask her some questions, and here’s what this generous woman had to say.

How many series have you published?

So far, I’ve published six series: Gansett Island, Treading Water, Fatal, Quantum, Green Mountain/Butler, Vermont, and Gilded.

How many have coastal settings?

Three of them. Gansett Island is a fictional version of Block Island and each book takes place on the island. The Treading Water Series begins with a book set in Newport, and Gilded includes a historical romance, Deceived by Desire, that is set in 1903 Newport, during the height of the city’s tenure as a summer playground for the wealthy.

In addition, I have several books that aren’t part of series that are set in and around Newport and other Rhode Island towns, including True North, The Fall, Georgia on My Mind, The Wreck, and parts of Love at First Flight.

What’s the biggest change you’ve seen in publishing?

I’ve been published since 2008, and the biggest change I’ve seen is the advent of self- or indie-publishing, which has allowed authors to publish direct to the various retailers without having to have a publisher. This has been a true game-changer for a lot of authors, including myself, who initially struggled to get published under the traditional model. Although I’ve worked with five publishers during my career, there’s nothing quite like the freedom that comes with being my own publisher. 

Why do islands and the coast “speak” to you?

I grew up in Middletown, RI, and my parents always had boats when I was a kid. In fact, I inherited my dad’s nearly 40-foot boat when he passed away in 2018, so now I’m a boat owner, too. I’m happiest when I’m on my boat or at the beach or anywhere near the water. Beaches, boats and the coast have played a bit part in my life, and I enjoy writing about coastal locations.

Does this type of imagery sneak up on you, or is it consciously included?

It’s something I did intentionally. We’re told to “write what we know,” and since the water and coast is such a big part of my life, bringing that to my fictional characters was a natural leap for me.

If you could change one thing about characters or career, who/what would it be?

I can’t think of anything I’d change. It’s been an amazing ride.

Thanks Marie, this was fun!

Visit Marie’s website for links to her books and some free samples. And if you have another #coastalfiction author you’d like to see interviewed, add a comment below or send me an email. Thanks for reading!

Previous Author Conversations

#3 Barbara O’Neal

#2 Wendy Mitman Clarke

#1 Barbara Rogan

3 Writing Lessons from Olympic Sailing

Sailors might be better known for swearing than writing, but lately I’ve been realizing how much my Olympic training helped me succeed as an author. Physically, the two skills couldn’t be more different; one demands constant movement, while the other involves mostly sitting (or standing) at a desk. There’s also a big difference in definitions of success. Winning a sailboat race means crossing the finish line ahead of the other boats. How do you “win” as an author?

For me, success means publishing books that readers find and enjoy enough to come back for more. And I never would’ve had the stamina and dedication to finish four novels if I hadn’t learned to write like I sail. So here are 3 tips that helped me “win” at writing. (We’ll get back to swearing at the end.)

1. Work with the day’s conditions

Sailboat races can be run in strong or light winds; on a tiny lake or in big ocean waves; through the cold driving New England rain or the dry heat of an Athens summer. Some days are as much a battle with the weather as a competition with other sailors. I definitely have my favorite conditions—but I still have to show up and compete on the other days, too. 

My writing is also affected by the weather; sunshine distracts me, while a rainy or snowy day makes me grateful for the comforting warmth of my office and the ability to imagine my way into a warmer scene.

What I learned training for the Olympics is that matching goals to each day’s conditions will be the best use of limited time on the water. If it’s windy (not my best skill set), I might vow to improve my heavy air skills rather than setting an unrealistic performance goal. When I was writing Ferry to Cooperation Island, I set a lower word count goal on sunny days, or moved out to the front porch to write on my laptop. Every day is an opportunity to make progress—even if it’s just honing undervalued skills, like adapting to new realities and just plain showing up. 

2. Training and a routine provide long-term benefits

Working toward the Olympics, we divided our four-year campaign into weeklong training blocks that culminated in regattas. Dividing up an ocean of training time into digestible chunks made it easier to stay focused—and the competitions along the way helped us see progress.

Most authors don’t have such a well-defined time frame in which to finish a book. (I thought I’d completed Ferry to Cooperation Island in August 2017, but it was two more years before it was actually ready to publish.) But muscle memory applies to our brains, too, so training and routine are quite important. 

Day after day of the same damned thing doesn’t sound like much fun, but it’s only by developing a routine and sticking to it that we make the incremental improvements that keep us making progress through the tough times. Picture the difference in word count between a month’s worth of mornings writing, and thirty days of waiting for inspiration to strike. Even on days when it feels like I’m just going through the motions, words on a page are always better than no words. 

Breaking up the work into digestible chunks will definitely make it easier to see progress. At the beginning of each week, I try to fix an achievable goal to focus on. That keeps me from sitting down at my desk and letting the unknown tie me in knots. (“OMG, I still have so many loose ends to tie up.”) At the end of the week, I consciously take time to evaluate my progress and always try to reward myself with a positive thought, even if it’s just “I finished another chapter.” Without marking our small victories, doing the same damn thing every day will seem quite pointless.

After four books, I still think story planning and writing should get easier… but so far, there’s always a saggy middle phase when I just have to keep working and trust the process to get me to the finish line. Training is the only way to develop a routine, and sometimes that routine is the only thing that keeps us powering through. 

3. Win in your own way

Winning a sailboat race means crossing the line first, but every competitor I know has a slightly different way of getting there. Some develop a fixed plan before the race starts and win only if that plan proves correct. Others prefer to figure it out moment to moment, trusting their instincts to help them make the right decisions and adjust to changing conditions. 

Writers would call these folks “plotters” and “pantsers,” and different approaches can lead to a “win” in writing as well. Give a first sentence to ten different authors, and you’ll end up with ten completely different stories. 

Recently, I’ve realized that I do my best work (in both sailing and writing) if I focus on trusting my instincts—while also keeping an eye on the bigger picture. I never know where my hard-headed characters will take me, but I also need to gently steer them toward that final scene. It also helps to keep in mind my very personal definition of “winning” at writing: publishing books that readers find and enjoy enough to come back for more. 

So that’s a little about how writing like a sailor has helped me succeed. As for swearing like a sailor? 

Sonofabitch, we’re out of time.

Olympic excitement: Read all about it

Couldn’t we all use some Olympic spirit right about now? Sporting battles between athletes at the very top of their game, followed by a closing ceremony with friends from different countries all marching in together?

Sixteen years ago, I marched into the opening ceremonies of Athens 2004 as part of Team USA. Since then, I’ve avidly watched every Games, smiling to think of the lasting memories each athlete would take home—and cheering on everyone, especially the non-medal winners.

Tokyo 2020 was supposed to start this week. Instead, the Olympics have been pushed back until next year, so your best chance at high-summer entertainment this year is, well… reading about previous Olympics. So here’s a special offer to help you through.

Game of Sails: An Olympic Love Story is on sale through July 30

Doug Logan calls my third novel “an insider’s guide to the build-up to the Games — racing in the qualifying trials, scrambling for finances, competing for spots on the U.S. Olympic team — and the heady spectacle and competition of the Games themselves.”

I know that reading a fictionalized version of Olympic competition (which could now be labeled “historical”) can’t possibly replace the excitement of Tokyo 2020, but it definitely gives a taste of what it’s like to “be there.” And dropping the price from $3.99 to 99 cents for a week is the only gesture I could think to make, as we all put on our patience pants until 202One.

Stay well, all, and happy reading!

Here are some of my favorite Olympic-focused posts from the last several years:

AP Over 2020: Lessons from a Postponed OlympicsOlympic Memories: Audio-documentaryWhat Makes an Olympic Champion?What Wins Olympic Medals? Not What Wins HeadlinesOlympic Broach: The No Good Very Bad Windiest DayOlympic Sailing: Where Fiction Meets FactRemembering Our 2004 Olympic Trials Win

Read more

Buy Game of Sails for just 99 cents

Ferry to Cooperation Island: Try the Audiobook

In 2019, I became a touch obsessed with audiobooks: first with listening to them, and then with creating my own. Once I’d sent off the final manuscript for Ferry to Cooperation Island, I recorded the first two books I wrote: Oliver’s Surprise and Cape Cod Surprise. Sales were encouraging, so I spent a chunk of last winter in Paul’s sound room reading chapter after chapter of FERRY into my laptop—and then editing out any fumbles. Along the way, I made a thousand discoveries… including the two biggest surprises:

Recording an audiobook consumes all of my creative brain power, even when I know what happens. Some of my characters’ voices are more audio-friendly than others.

The audiobook of Ferry to Cooperation Island went out into the world on the same day as the paperback and ebook, though it’s still working its way onto various subscription sites. Libro.fm, which helps support the local independent bookstore of your choice, will give you a free book credit just for signing up. Why not make it FERRY?

To get you almost as excited about audiobooks as I am (and about listening to my voice for 10 hours), here’s the first chapter (9 minutes). Thanks for listening, and please let me know what you think—either in the comments below, or by email.

Listen to Chapter 1

Masked and Rusty: COVID-compliant Snipe Sailing

I didn’t need to drive to Annapolis to understand how much the world had changed since our last Snipe regatta, way back in February. But I did need to retrieve my boat and trailer, stuck in Miami since the regatta calendar went dark. So when the Colonial Cup was rescheduled, and a member of the Miami fleet offered to tow the Frankentrailer as far north as Annapolis, Kim and I decided it was a chance worth taking.

Sailboat racing is always a luxury, even for those of us who usually regard it as a psychological necessity. Public and private responses to scratching the competitive sailing itch now vary widely; by country, state—even from one yacht club to the next. Around the world, many friends haven’t (yet) had the opportunity to go racing this year, so I’m really grateful to Severn Sailing Association and Snipe Fleet 532 for pulling together a regatta in such challenging times. And since it may be my only regatta this summer, here are a few thoughts about racing Snipes in a COVID-compliant way.

I swear we’re smiling! Thanks to Will Keyworth/SpinSheet for capturing the new look.



1. Health matters more than results.

Before I drove down to Annapolis, Kim and I talked through our priorities and decided to take it a day at a time; if we felt comfortable after a short afternoon practice on Friday, we’d race on Saturday. If that went okay, we’d race again on Sunday. There was always the fallback option of packing up the boat and driving home a day (or two) early, satisfied that my primary mission (getting Snipe and trailer back to Rhode Island) would still be accomplished. Fortunately, thanks to plenty of distance between boats ashore and revised team priorities on the water, we sailed all three days. (I admit, I didn’t ask Kim if she was up for sailing the next day until after she’d had at least one glass of wine.)

2. Masks/buffs only work when dry

Since we live 400 miles apart and neither of us had been tested for the virus, we agreed that keeping our faces covered in the boat was a higher priority than feeling the wind on our faces (a subtle but quite important racing sense). That worked fine until Kim got splashed by a wave and found she could no longer breathe through wet fabric; this safety measure will not work in heavy air.

3. Psychological necessity: a distracting sense of normal

Besides writing, Snipe racing is what I do. So three days of thinking about wind shifts and stretching hiking muscles were all a great distraction from the stressful what-ifs of our current world; a lovely taste of joyous normal. I’m really, really glad we made this weekend of racing happen; it’s so important to take our pleasures when and where we can.

Our results? Well, they were mediocre—and that was, surprisingly, absolutely fine. Since the Worlds last October, we’d had only two days in the boat together (and that was back in February); we were definitely shaking off the rust all weekend. When I first stepped into the boat Friday afternoon, it felt quite unstable. As my muscle memory gradually returned, Snipe-motion became predictable again and I stopped thinking about my body movements. Saturday was breezy and shifty, so the entire day seemed unsettled—but by Sunday, we were more relaxed about both racing and sharing a small space. There but for one missed tacking opportunity, we might have even won the first race of the day. (Instead we finished fifth, an indication of how tight the racing was.)

Bottom line? I’m really glad we made this past weekend happen, and I would absolutely do it again with the same priorities: safety first, sailing second. But that is a very long way from “normal” racing, which places performance at the tippy top of the priority pyramid. Unfortunately, even for those of us who consider the pursuit of excellence as a defining part of our personality, a singleminded focus on anything other than health and safety seems like even more of a luxury than ever right now. So if you’re considering whether to host (or sail) a regatta this year, don’t be surprised if such a radical reprioritization of wellness over winning proves contagious.

Read more about how to run a COVID-compliant regatta (even if you don’t have a regatta chair who happens to be an epidemiologist) on SnipeToday.

Barefoot Book Launch: 4 Tips for Virtual Success

I have a confession to make… I was barefoot for the Ferry to Cooperation Island launch party! That’s a first (and maybe why it was so much fun). Thanks to everyone who attended, as well as those who’ve watched the recording. It was such a success that I’ve since written an in-depth guest post for a writer’s blog about how to throw a memorable virtual launch party, and I thought you all would enjoy hearing some more general conclusions as well.

But first, please review

If you’ve already read Ferry to Cooperation Island, please post a review on Amazon (even if you didn’t buy the book there). Amazon ratings help other readers decide whether to buy the book and also help increase its overall visibility; as I put it during the launch party, they are a crucial part of a rich get richer scenario. You can really help the book succeed by giving it an honest review. Thanks!

Now, onto today’s main topic. I have four takeaways from my first-ever barefoot book launch; if you have additional thoughts, please share them in the comments below (or email me). (Thanks again, I’m still smiling!)

1. Tell us a story

Any public performance (virtual or otherwise) should tell a story, even though ideally the structure and planning won’t be obvious to the audience. For the launch, my primary goal was to share the book’s three inspirations: Cooperation, Coastline, and a ferry Captain. That helped me figure out what to include (and, even more importantly, what to leave out). 

2. Ask for help

Like James, the ferry captain who is the book’s main character, I like to do things myself. But an hour of me as a virtual “talking head” would’ve made Death by Powerpoint look like a pleasant alternative—and I also knew that if I tried to handle all the logistics of entertaining 100-plus friends and readers, I would be way too distracted. Captain Liz Baylis managed the screenshare and Q and A, Kim Couranz asked pre-planned questions (and even dropped in one that wasn’t planned), and Paul Cronin responded to everyone in the chat window in real time. Having teammates made it a lot more fun and much less stressful; with all of the logistics covered, I could focus on sharing my own excitement.

3. Stroke the senses

Sensory details bring a story to life, but how to achieve that at a virtual party? Screensharing, of course! We shared visuals I’d collected during my research, just as I would’ve for an in-person party. The variety of sensory experiences (readings, polls, photos, maps, and even a drink-spittingly funny picture of me as a five-year-old, with attitude) provided something for everyone: the readers, the visual learners, and the audiophiles.

4. Bookend the evening

Novels, short stories, magazine articles, and—yes—virtual talks should all open with an explanation of where we’re going and how long it will take to get there. Ideally, this structure is not too obvious to the reader/listener, but the biggest complaint I’d heard about other virtual launches was the lack of such structure. At our very first practice session, Captain Liz came up with the theme: she’d take us all on a virtual ferry ride. Her introduction framed as a “safety briefing” entertainingly communicated necessary housekeeping details in “captain-speak” and made a great start to the evening. And after our Q&A wrapped up, Captain Liz reminded us all to watch our step while leaving the ferry. 

Since the launch party, I’ve received several compliments about the enjoyable “ferry ride.” One writer said he liked when I read from the book. Others commented on the photos. And several others mentioned seeing me so excited and happy—which was easy, because I had teammates!

Virtually or in-person, we all just want to be entertained. Thanks to my teammates for helping me figure out how to best use online tools to achieve that. And thanks again to all of you for joining the fun—whether or not you were barefoot!

If you missed the launch party, here’s a link to the recording. Feel free to share in the comments below what you liked best—or send me an email. Thanks for reading and watching!

Snipe Sailing, and Writing about it

Ordinarily, a weekend regatta wouldn’t rate any special announcement… but this is no ordinary summer, so today I’m shouting from the rooftops: we’re going Snipe sailing tomorrow! Racing shut down in mid-March, just ahead of the DonQ Rum Keg Regatta in Miami that traditionally kickstarts spring. For the rest of the month, I watched flowers poke through the soil in our front yard and wondered why it still felt like winter. Finally, I realized: since I was a 20-something, my spring seasons have started with a regatta in Miami.

In April, shortly after the Olympics were postponed, the Snipe class followed suit and pushed back all the major (travel-requiring) 2020 regattas to 2021. It was the right decision, of course, and a very small sacrifice relative to the world’s woes… but I’ve really missed it. Since the 2019 Worlds last October, I’ve raced only one regatta. I can now say for certain that quiet, relaxing weekends at home are not nearly as much fun when they come around every seven days.

Risk-reward

Thanks to a lot of planning by Severn Sailing Association and the Annapolis Snipe fleet, we get to go racing with our friends on the same weekend that was supposed to be a four-day 2020 Nationals (and qualifier for the next Worlds). Two days of racing will count as this year’s Colonial Cup, which (unlike last year) will have nothing riding on the results except a trophy and bragging rights. The fleet is capped at twenty boats (and only hours after registration opened, a waiting list had already formed). There will be no parties, but I’m sure there will be some excellent socially distanced pre-race discussions—and that’s all I need to make it worth the drive.

As summer kicks off, we are all struggling to balance the risk-reward equation between whatever we consider normal fun and our virus exposure. To paraphrase, I plan to “neither an infector nor an infectee be.” Staying away from others definitely adds stress, but getting away will also be a great stress-reducer. The chance to catch up with close friends, even from a not-close distance, is the only way I know to refill the stamina tank for a summer that, right now, looks to be dominated by staying home and staying safe.

Sailing World article

I like to think I captured some of the reasons for my Snipe addiction in Craft of Contentment, a Starting Line piece in the Summer 2020 issue of Sailing World Magazine. The invitation to contribute to SW’s “My Class, My Story” series happened to coincide with my 30th year in this quirky fifteen footer, and it was a great opportunity to look back on everything I’ve learned. 

Unfortunately, the article is not listed in the table of contents (and I’m still trying to puzzle out the lead graphic)… but I have received several compliments on it, so I guess other people still actually read magazines too (rather than just flipping through for the pictures). And the subhead nicely summarizes my basic point: “From one small package comes many lessons on a long path of improvement.”

To whet your appetite, below are the first three paragraphs. To read the rest, pick up a copy of the Summer 2020 issue (or, better yet, subscribe).

And now, please excuse me… because I’m getting ready to go sailing tomorrow!

Thanks for reading, and let me know in the comments below or send me an email to explain how you’re balancing the risk-reward equation during this strange summer.

Craft of Contentment

From one small package comes many lessons on a long path of improvement.

For more than 30 years, the Snipe—a hard-chine fifteen-footer almost a century old—has been my teacher. I first stepped into one as a newbie 20-something, as a crew for the most demanding skipper I’ve ever sailed with. That unlikely “blind date” led to countless friendships, fitness, failures, and of course—fun.

Snipe sailing takes me all over the country and around the world—and brings me right back home to Rhode Island’s Narragansett Bay, where Kim Couranz and I won the Snipe Women’s Worlds in 2018. I’ve rigged boats in a shivery, rain-soaked Danish boat park; surfed ocean waves in Japan, where swells seemed to swallow boats and rigs whole. I’ve drifted around a Massachusetts lake so small I could overhear an international sailor wonder aloud where the races would be conducted. If variety is the spice of life, the Snipe is the cayenne pepper of one-design sailing. 

Read the rest in the Summer 2020 issue of Sailing World

Raise a Toast to Cooperation

Inspiration, meet cooperation. Tonight (come hell or high virus) we’re having a launch party for Ferry to Cooperation Island. It’s my best book so far—partly, of course, because it took so damned long.

368 days ago, I summarized an eight year publication journey into six acts.  Since then you’ve read about cover reveals, edits, more edits, and several great early reviews. Now, tonight, we get to celebrate the final product at last. I have to admit; I’m quite proud of it!

Our neighborhood book group read advance copies of Ferry to Cooperation Island as our June selection, so last week I got my first taste of reader questions—and a chance to take pictures of each with their copy.

It was just wonderful to get back together in person again, especially in a waterfront yard on such a beautiful evening—though instead of taking one group photo, I stitched together our nine distanced chair portraits into a Brady Bunch format. (It might remind younger readers of a Zoom call, only with better backgrounds.)

What happens at book club stays there, but some of the comments were so great I have to share them: “It’s a really intimate view of island life.” “I rushed through to find out what was going to happen next, but then slowed down because I didn’t want it to end.” “I read it twice.” “I couldn’t figure out the ending.” “I really liked the characters. Except Lloyd.” “I can definitely see this as a movie…” “Yes—and it could be filmed locally!” (You can watch the 1 minute trailer and read more formal reviews on the book’s web page.)

We’re going to have some fun tonight, so please bring along a glass of your favorite beverage for a toast. It is a school night, so we’ll start with a suggestion from blog reader Jeff Johnstone: “My favorite sailor’s cocktail, other than a Dark and Stormy, is the non-alcoholic alternative called a Gunner. First had it in Hong Kong. It’s half ginger beer and half gingerale with some lime and angostura bitters (which has a little alcohol). A very refreshing summer drink.”

For those of you who want to join me in starting the weekend early, the recipe below was submitted by Emily Boenning (middle top in the book group photo). It’s quite delicious, and I love her comment: “My inspiration for the ingredients was the myriad of characters in the book.”

6:30 p.m. (1830 for you nautical types.) If you need an invite (or want a Brenton Rum sticker to add onto your favorite bottle), send me an email. SEE YOU TONIGHT! And don’t be late, or you might miss the ferry…

Protected: No Muse, part 3

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Protected: Sail Your Worries Away, part II

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