Michelle Garren Flye's Blog, page 75

Writing the Anti-50 Shades Bondage Romance

No offense intended to E.L. James or those who thoroughly enjoyed the erotic fanaticism that swept our great nation with 50 Shades of Grey and its sequels, but when I set out to write ESCAPE MAGIC, the second in my Sleight of Hand series, I knew it might be difficult to avoid comparison. After all, my main female character is young, beautiful and into bondage…on the stage, no less.

No, I haven’t slipped into erotica here, although ESCAPE MAGIC does contain the hottest sex scene I’ve written so far. (Consider that both warning and promise!) In fact, I think I’m still okay calling this a sweet romance, although I’ll be interested to find out what reviewers think. In point of fact, my heroine is a strong, capable, escape magician who just might be more ready to fall in love than she thinks…with the right man.

Here’s the blurb for ESCAPE MAGIC, coming October 31!

For every lock, there is a key…

Escape magician Lady Lydia can pick any lock, untie any knot, free herself from any trunk of doom. She’s spent years perfecting her brand of escapology, and she’s now poised for success with a Las Vegas show and growing popularity. She’s right where she wants to be, and she’s determined not to fall into any trap.

Tony Hawkins has spent the past three years overcoming his addictions to drugs and alcohol. Now he’s back where it all started. Tony’s stronger than he’s ever been, more in control than he ever thought he could be. But the moment he sees Lydia again, he fears he could lose himself in yet another addiction.

Surrounded by magic, magicians and a glamorous Vegas wedding, Escape Magic is a story about forgetting your fear and finding your faith…even if it means taking a leap you never counted on.

Join me here on my blog for an all-day celebration of the release of ESCAPE MAGIC and the life of Harry Houdini, the greatest escape magician of all time. There’ll be prizes and fun facts and maybe a special surprise, if I can work it out on short notice!

The Spider and the Squirrel: When Best Laid Plans Pay Off…and When They Don’t.

Since obtaining a small dog minion who must be walked every hour and a half, I’ve discovered something surprising. I live in the woods. Yeah, you’d think I would’ve noticed that, wouldn’t you? But when you’re “walking” a Yorkie, you see things a little differently, mainly because there are a lot of starts and stops and while he’s sniffing around for a good place to go the bathroom, you actually get a chance to look around a little bit. Yesterday I spotted something very cool. It was a spider web. Being a romance writer, I’m probably a little more, well, romantic about this sort of thing, but I was very impressed with that spiderweb, which was perfectly circular in the middle but had long strands stretching from trees on one side of my driveway to the other, a span of about twenty feet.

I started thinking about the planning that no doubt went into that web. Did ever an architect plan a skyscraper more intricately? And what about that perfect circle in the middle of it? Just looking at it took my breath away.

That’s when I decided I need a plan. I’ve got so much going on in my life right now. Wonderful stuff, but it does distract from my writing projects a bit. I have three books in various stages of being ready for reader consumption. I need a schedule. So I made one, and I’ll share it with you in just a sec. But first I have to tell you about the other little lesson nature taught me.

It was a squirrel this time. We have a lot of those and at this time of year, they go a little crazy hopping from one treetop to another. They can practically fly, or at least they appear to…ahem, most of the time. This morning, I watched as one jumped from one tree to the next, ran up a branch and jumped again…and fell flat on his face. That fall must have been forty or fifty feet. I actually felt the earth tremble as its little body hit the ground. Imagine my amazement when that squirrel not only got up (after a stunned second) but raced back up that tree, pausing to scold me on the way for seeing his embarrassing slip.

So plans don’t always work out. You don’t always end up with a glimmering gossamer masterpiece. Sometimes you fall flat on your face. The important thing is to get back up and keep trying. With that in mind, I’m announcing a tentative publishing schedule for my next few books:

October 31: Escape Magic (book 2 in the Sleight of Hand Series)

January 1: Saturday Love (sequel of Ducks in a Row)

March?: Island Magic (book 3 in the Sleight of Hand Series)

June/July: Agapi Mou (sequel of Saturday Love)

Please don’t judge me too harshly if this schedule is adjusted over the coming months. Agapi Mou (which is Greek for My Love) isn’t even written yet, although it is an extension of a short story by the same title. Looking at this schedule now, I’m fairly confident I can manage it. But then, I’m pretty sure that squirrel thought he could make it to that next tree, too.

Living the Alternative Write-Style

Yes, that’s right. Me. Joe Romance Novelist. I live an alternative write-style.

You never would have guessed? Or you have no idea what I’m talking about?

Well, here it is. I take writing very seriously. I identify myself as a writer, an author, a storyteller, a book-maker. Hell, last year when I filled out my taxes, I put “writer” in as my profession. It is, and someday I even hope to make a living at it.

But I can’t swear I write forty hours a week or two thousand words a day or whatever is considered the going rate for a working writer. And I’m starting to accept that I don’t have to.

Last night I stayed up late because I hadn’t written all day. Well, nothing but tweets, and I just can’t count those. I have two works-in-progress ongoing right now, a vague outline of a romance featuring a sexy male librarian hero, and a complete novel waiting for my edits. I’ve got plenty to do, ideas percolating in my brain at all hours. If I had my way, I’d be indulging in a write fest nine to five every day.

Ah, but there’s a rub. I also have three kids getting ready to start school, a puppy who insists on being walked every hour and a half, a hard-working husband who deserves to be fed at some point after he comes home from work, and a house that hasn’t been completely clean since summer started…or possibly since we moved in.

This is where the alternative write-style comes in. Over the summer I’ve given up on set writing time. I’ve made the decision that I will write when I can. Like last night. I stayed up thirty minutes later than I should have and wrote a grand total of about four hundred words. And you know what I saw when I gazed blearily at my computer screen at 12:30 a.m.? I saw the one thing that I needed to see.

Progress.

(For some reason, that little song Dory from “Finding Nemo” sang keeps running through my head: “Just keep swimming, just keep swimming…”)

If you have to live an alternative write-style, don’t worry. You may not hit the two thousand prescribed words a day a serious writer is supposed to write. The question is, would you like to? If you could get someone else to do your grocery shopping and kid carting and day job for you, would you sit down and write until you hit two thousand words a day? If the answer is yes, then you’re a writer.

However, if you’d rather be rock-climbing or skydiving or playing Minecraft all day (I mean, hell, if you’ve got someone working your day job for you, who can blame you?), then you might be more of a hobbyist writer. Nothing wrong with it, but you probably shouldn’t call yourself a writer on your income taxes.

In the meantime, writers, here’s the one bit of advice I really feel like I can give you: Whatever you do, just keep swimming…

The Cicadas are Dying

The cicadas are dying. It’s just what they do every year about this time. Throughout July they’re very loud–so loud and so constant, you barely hear them. But around the beginning of August, they start dropping out of the trees. That’s when you become aware of them. Instead of a continual, deafening, whirring chorus, fewer of the insects sing, and it’s a softer, less consistent song. Sometimes they even fall silent.

And you realize they’ve been singing all along and you didn’t really notice it.

While walking my puppy (who has to be walked at least once every hour), I came across a dying one today. He was still struggling to fly. I thought about how many times I’ve walked my pup this summer (innumerable–I think I mentioned how often he has to be walked) and realized I only noticed the cicadas a handful of times. But I heard their rattling chatter every time I went outside. Loud as it was, it faded into the background, became part of what I expected.

Soon I’ll walk outside and not hear them and I’ll notice it. The air will grow chillier, the sound of children confined to schoolyards in the day. Darkness will fall earlier and summer will end.

My puppy wanted to play with the cicada we found flopping ungracefully on the driveway, but I pulled him away. I was glad I did because in the next instant the cicada got his feet under him and summoned enough strength to whir back up into the trees. I’ll be able to hear him sing again. For a little while longer.

The Cicadadas are Dying

The cicadas are dying. It’s just what they do every year about this time. Throughout July they’re very loud–so loud and so constant, you barely hear them. But around the beginning of August, they start dropping out of the trees. That’s when you become aware of them. Instead of a continual, deafening, whirring chorus, fewer of the insects sing, and it’s a softer, less consistent song. Sometimes they even fall silent.

And you realize they’ve been singing all along and you didn’t really notice it.

While walking my puppy (who has to be walked at least once every hour), I came across a dying one today. He was still struggling to fly. I thought about how many times I’ve walked my pup this summer (innumerable–I think I mentioned how often he has to be walked) and realized I only noticed the cicadas a handful of times. But I heard their rattling chatter every time I went outside. Loud as it was, it faded into the background, became part of what I expected.

Soon I’ll walk outside and not hear them and I’ll notice it. The air will grow chillier, the sound of children confined to schoolyards in the day. Darkness will fall earlier and summer will end.

My puppy wanted to play with the cicada we found flopping ungracefully on the driveway, but I pulled him away. I was glad I did because in the next instant the cicada got his feet under him and summoned enough strength to whir back up into the trees. I’ll be able to hear him sing again. For a little while longer.

Motivation: What Makes Your Characters Move?

I started a new story the other day and did my normal thing. I jumped right the hell into the deep end. Only then did I realize that I didn’t know how to swim in this particular pool.

Getting away from the swimming metaphor (forgive me, it’s HOT in eastern North Carolina), I set the story aside for a day or so and figured out why I couldn’t make it work. You see, I have a very clear idea of what I want to have happen, but I couldn’t figure out how to make my characters get from point A to point B. They just stood there like little statues.

I know now why. I knew one of the characters pretty well. He was in Close Up Magic, so he didn’t hold that much mystery for me. I knew what motivated him. Guilt, love, a certain fragility of spirit and an inner strength he doesn’t realize he possesses yet. And I created this awesomely sexy heroine to show him the way. She’s strong, beautiful, worldly–but I couldn’t get her to fall in love with him.

I realized that while I knew what my hero’s motivation was, I wasn’t sure about hers. I’d jumped into the middle of the story and forgotten to wade a little into the backstory first. Even if I don’t need to tell the reader everything at first, I need to know why she’d choose this particular instance to fall in love with this particular guy.

It’s a rookie mistake, and one I’ve made before (waaay back when I was a rookie, wink wink). I think a lot of writers make it. We get excited about telling the story and forget a basic fundamental of storytelling: without motivation, our characters won’t live. Whether it’s a carrot or a stick, we’ve gotta give them a reason to move from the beginning of the story to the climactic middle to the end.

The Unlikely Hero and Me: Is There a Future for Us?

Looking back over my romance novels, I don’t find a typical alpha hero in many of them. Dan in Secrets of the Lotus and John in Winter Solstice were the closest I came, and that was because as I started out I thought that was what was required.

Since then, the men of my stories have been pretty much quiet intellectuals or devoted professionals. A physics professor, a family lawyer, a chef, and now…a magician.

Now, keep in mind that most of my life I’ve been a quiet, devoted geek. I’ve seen every episode of Star Trek (original through Deep Space Nine, anyway), and certainly every movie (I love the new ones!). My favorite authors in high school were Anne McCaffrey (dragons!) and Piers Anthony (Xanth!). My favorite hobby? Reading. I’m a librarian for heaven’s sake. (Speaking of which, I’m seriously considering writing a novel with a librarian as the hero.)

So it makes sense that my heroes would tend toward the geek side of the scale, too, doesn’t it?

But is there a future in writing heroes with a geek factor? I may not have found my answer, but I did get a little bit of encouragement the other night while watching Big Brother (another sign of my geekiness!). If you’ve been watching, you know there’s an unlikely showmance going on between houseguests Amanda and McCrae. Amanda is a gorgeous, brash, successful businesswoman. McCrae is a pizza boy…well, I guess you’d have to say pizza man. He’s certainly old enough to have a real job. (Sorry, McCrae!)

Anyway, the two have struck up a relationship and are undeniably cute together, even if they are totally mismatched and would never have gotten together (like, in a million years! I mean who would be caught dating a pizza boy? Really?) in the real world. And McCrae says to Amanda the other night (at least something to this effect), “I don’t even really get it why you like me.” And Amanda starts giggling and just for a second, I got it. I saw it. McCrae’s a geek, but there’s something about him.

Of course, my next hero isn’t going to be a pizza boy (man), and he isn’t going to look like McCrae, but just the fact that I actually could see something in him for a second there made me feel better about my heroes. I mean, hey, why shouldn’t a sexy, devoted, sweet, slightly geeky magician get the girl?

Even in this day and age of fifty shades of twilight, there’s room for a nice guy, too, isn’t there?

I’m back from RWA13…now it’s time to translate.

So, I had an awesome time in Atlanta, and now I’m home, hot cup of coffee beside me, computer in my lap, and I know it’s time.

It’s time to figure out what I took away from it all.

And put it to work.

So, besides the joy of having an epiphany about my work in progress while Elizabeth Boyle taught me about hooks, the awe of having Liliana Hart share her knowledge of self-publishing with me (and a couple hundred other people), the pure thrill of being in the same room with Jayne Ann Krentz and Susan Elizabeth Phillips (two of my idols) and hearing their “secrets”, and a bag full of awesome romance novels, what great wisdom did I take away from RWA?

Here we go:

1. I’ve known this for a long time, but I heard it over and over at RWA this year: Other writers are not your competition. They’re your support group.

2. Carry a notebook with you. Epiphany may strike at any time, and you want to be able to write it down.

3. I CAN give my books away! No really, I worried about this. I was one of the authors at the Indie book signing and I was so afraid I’d brought too many books. But I gave most of them away there and a few later on, and really only came home with a handful of my own books leftover. So, yay! Here’s to more readers!

4. Meeting people in person is so much more thrilling than tweeting with them! I met my multi-talented editor Kristin Anders (The Romantic Editor) in person and was blown away.

5. On the flip side, once you meet an author in person, it’s fun to find them on Twitter. I did this with Suzanne Ferrell (one of the Romance Bandits), who I shared a signing table with at the indie signing. She was so much fun sitting next to, I didn’t want to lose that connection.

To sum up, it was a fun, productive several days and though I don’t want to return to the real world, I know I have no other choice. Besides, next year, RWA is in San Antonio. I do love San Antonio!

Broadening My Horizons: Preparing for #RWA13

Tomorrow I will step outside my comfort zone and attend #RWA13 (Romance Writers of America 2013 for the uninitiated). It’s a little scary and a lot exhilarating thinking of being surrounded by the amount of talent I know I’ll experience at this meeting. I went to my first one two years ago and loved it, although I had no idea what I was doing. After stumbling through two or three meetings with editors and agents, idiotically blabbing that I don’t like erotica (it’s not my first choice of reading material, but I have since learned to appreciate the art form), and wandering the halls aimlessly in search of the wrong workshops after reading the schedule incorrectly, I think I can safely say I’ve learned a thing or two about RWA meetings.

Five things I’m packing for #RWA13:

1. My ambition. I’ll dust it off first. It gets a lot of use, but in between these meetings, it can be sort of stationary.

2. My guts. I know I’ll need them. Hell, I’m an introvert. This kind of thing is really tough for me.

3. My talent. I do have it. Sometimes I lose it, but I always find it again.

4. My ability to roll with the punches. A no is just a no. It’s not a decree that I should never try again.

5. My determination. I know I haven’t written the Great American Novel and likely never will, but I ain’t gonna quit until I run out of words. And my dictionary is REALLY long.

In addition, I’m taking 52 copies of Close Up Magic, 10 copies of Ducks in a Row, 7 copies of Weeds and Flowers, bookmarks, postcards and stickers. Also, if you see me at #RWA13, ask me about my magic wands. I might just have one to give you!

An odd ode to coffee, my true love

I’m tired. I’ll be honest, I’ve been staying up far too late this summer, mainly because–for the most part anyway–I can get away with it. Slower starts in the mornings are okay when you don’t have to rush the children to school. But I’m relying too much on my old friend and true love to get me through the mornings.

Coffee.

No matter how you drink it, if you’re addicted to it, you know what love is. I like mine with a packet of Splenda and a dab of plain Coffee Mate. Smooth, creamy and woodsy.

I recently had a friend tell me she no longer drank caffeine. She’s probably healthier than me, and I’m sure her teeth are whiter, but all I could think was…

No coffee?

A writer’s world revolves around coffee. I myself have no less than two cups in the morning and sometimes a cup in the afternoon. It’s a ritual steeped in superstition as much as need for caffeine. And unfortunately, my addiction is complete. I need my coffee. In fact, I was so moved by my need for the earthy tasting brown liquid, I wrote a little poem for it this morning.

And it goes like this:

I may need a cup of coffee this morn.

One cup should do it. Just one is all.

I may need more than one cup of coffee.

Up too late. It’s a writer’s life. One more.

I may need more than two cups of coffee today.

Not even noon and I’m dragging. Another please.

Three cups of coffee and I’m buzzing.

Tired and buzzing and not able to blink.

I think I need…where’s the bathroom?

Tune in tomorrow when I express my addiction to wine in song…or not.