Renee Miller's Blog, page 36

Do you have a Writing Playlist?

I find working without music impossible. Anyone else? It doesn't matter what I'm doing; writing, cleaning, editing, I must have background noise. But just not the screaming "Moooom!" kind of noise. That doesn't work for me at all.



It occured to me today, just how much I rely on music. It's like the background noise, the mood it creates, isolates me in this little creative cocoon. Without it, I'm wandering off to Twitter, Facebook, Youtube...not good.



What is it about music? If I'm having "one of those days", I can put on a certain song and pull myself from the doldrums. Can't seem to write anything? Well, just crank up the radio. The lyrics affect me just as much as the beat. Perhaps that's what it is. Music tells a story just as fiction does.



I find certain genres are more inspirational at different times. If I'm working on a love scene...this is going sound awful...but music like Nickelback, Theory of a Deadman, or...Aerosmith inspires some kickass lovin. Seriously. The pool table scene in Dirty Truths was written to Nickelback's Dark Horse album. In Once Bitten, it was Aerosmith all the way..hours and hours of Aerosmith. My kids threatened to smother me in my sleep if I ever played it again. How can anyone not enjoy Steven Tyler?



Fancy, by Reba McIntyre actually inspired an entire novel...which shall sit in the shadows gathering cobwebs until I figure out what to do with its awfulness. Because of You (Kelly Clarkson and Reba) got me through some really tough scenes in I Do.



I listen to nearly every genre of music, except anything that screams lyrics I can't understand or that raps. I can't work with that stuff. Lately, I've been working to a lot of 80's and 90's tunes. They just wake my brain up like nothing else. Oh, and Adam Lambert. He makes me smile.



I'm curious about the rest of you. What's your writing playlist?

Who are you?

Due to some recent blogs, articles, etc. I've read, I've been pondering personality and how much of the real "you" is wise to put out into the world. Are some personalities PR nightmares? Why? What makes a PR dream? Is it possible to hold any of yourself back? What about a public persona versus the real you? Should you pretend to be something you aren't in order to sell more books? Should I? Will publishers turn down a damn fine writer simply because she's a bit too opinionated?



I know I have a strong personality. My mother says that people either love me or hate me because I give them no other choice. She knows what I write, the types of characters I create, the worlds in which they move around in, and most of it horrifies her. But she's not surprised. After all, she knows me better than anyone else.



Kurt wonders how I manage to keep friends. He's witnessed me actually asking people to leave my house because I'm busy or not feeling very social. Mr. Avoid-Confrontation-at-all-Costs is horrified by such behavior. Why have them here when I don't want them? Why pretend that I'm enjoying the company when I'm not? Makes no sense to me. Be honest, and tell someone you're too busy and they'll understand. I don't go showing up at their work in the middle of the day looking for coffee, do I? My home is my workplace, so I've trained my friends to treat it as such. Honestly, the friends that really get me, they don't care. They call before they come and if I say I'm busy, they're okay with that. Why? Because they're my friends. What's up with this visiting nonsense anyway? Who visits? Why? Stop it.



According to some 'professionals' we should mask these 'difficult' parts of ourselves if we want to have a career in the public eye, such as writing. We should do whatever we have to in order to avoid alienating potential fans. I've tried to be this agreeable, wouldn't-say-shit-if-my-mouth-was-full-of-it, gracious, non-confrontational, likeable person that people think an author should be and I have failed miserably. Why? I cannot act. Not a bit.



I don't pretend to be anything I'm not when I'm in the big bad world of blogs, writing groups, or social networking. To me it's equal to lying and I loathe liars. (Loathe is my favorite word this week.) I am what I am. I say stupid things, but sometimes I come up with very wise things. They're just never noticed as much as the stupid. I speak up when I feel I need to and I don't care who you are, if you don't like what I say, plug your ears/close your eyes, or tell me I'm an idiot and move along. But don't tell me I should be anyone else. I've worked too hard learning how to be this person. Besides, with the characters floating around my head, I can't handle taking on another personality.



Is this a good thing? In terms of book sales, publishing, etc. I don't know. I'm not there yet. But I can look in the mirror and smile at what I see. I like that feeling. I'm proud of that person for hanging onto herself in a world that makes it very tempting to pretend to be someone else.



We hear lots about how authors have to be wary of their words, actions and how much they reveal about their personal opinions. Why? Because we write we should be different than everyone else? Because if we're lucky a few hundred people might hang on our every word and if we offend them we might lose there undivided attention? We should advocate not being who you are? I hardly think so. If being who you are is not hurting, belittling, or pushing anyone else around, then who cares if you're annoying, bitchy or boring.



Here's the bottom line: Anyone who doesn't like me or what I say, do, think, believe, hate, love, etc. is NOT going to like my books either. They aren't going to like my writing, my characters, or the stories I have to tell. I write what feels right and often, it's in your face and yes, there's profanity and some offensive content. If it deepens the story and the characterization, I don't shy away from including it because someone might be upset by it. I don't have time to worry about offending people who are too narrowminded to appreciate our differences.



There are authors who I think are loud, annoying, arrogant and rude. They make no excuses for this, they just are and that's it. And I love their books, even if I want to hurl something every time they speak. I admire that they worry about the writing first, not what others think about their social skills.



What are your thoughts? Do you alter your 'public' personality in order to be more likeable?

Tension

I've been working feverishly to edit In the Bones so that I can start querying agents and publishers in my neverending quest to make it to every slushpile on the planet. I'm making quite a dent by the way. As you may have guessed, my optimism is waning. *sigh*



But that's not the point of this post. While editing, a dear author friend who believes that pulling any punches will result in something horrific happening between himself and Karma, pointed out that my tension sucked. The characters are good, most of the action is good, but where's the motivation? Why would a reader turn the page? He also pointed out that I was telling the reader far more than I was showing. Disgusted with myself, I looked at the manuscript with new eyes. You know, this freelancing stuff is a great way to pay the bills, but writing articles requires a far different mindset than writing fiction. My problem is that I have a hard time switching gears, moving from one mode of writing to the other. So while some days I'd write a great section of story, but my assignment edits came in by the thousands, another day I'd write 2000 or so words of story that tell, tell, tell but had no edits on my assignments. Don't worry, I've fixed it. I adjusted my schedule too so that I wasn't doing both on the same day.



What did I mean to say? Right, tension. How do I build tension? What is this tension? How much? Where and when? Oh, I had so many questions. Building tension is actually very simple. Figuring out if your novel has it is even easier. I'll share:



Read your novel in scenes. Take one chapter and read scene one. What would you rate that bad boy on a scale of 1 to 10? Yes, the key is that the writer has to be brutally honest with herself. If you're not, well you're only hurting your chances of getting published. So, do what you will. Do the same for the remaining scenes in that chapter. When you're done, you'll have something like 2, 4, 3. Okay? So the first scene is pretty good, but not edge of your seat tension. I mean, come on, we've only just met the protagonist, so the reader has nothing invested yet. The tension is more of a curiosity to know what will happen next rather than an all-consuming need to find out more. The second scene, we've pushed the envelope a bit. The tension increases dramatically with the introduction of a major conflict. Perhaps the protagonist finds a letter which informs him he has three days to escape certain death. Again, it's not a 10 because the reader is not completely emotionally attached. The third scene, well it's okay. It's not as intense as the previous, but it's moving along faster than the first. The reader is curious, but not blown away.



You rate the tension based on factors like action, dialogue, conflict, and most importantly, does it move the reader to turn the page? Let's say it's got tons of action, a good amount of dialogue and the conflict is great. However, you've wrapped up the entire scene and handed it to the reader in a neat little package. Oh...and you have about four paragraphs of exposition on the second page of the scene. How does the tension rate? Low. Why? Because although you have all of this stuff happening, you haven't kept the pace moving. The exposition slowed it down. Also, you wrapped it up so well, the reader has no questions. No reason to keep going. So while the rest is good, two of the most important factors, pace and motivation for the reader to go on, are shitty.



Do the same for every chapter and then make a little graph. Come on, you know you want to.  If you're as inept as I am you might have something like this:



Look, I'm really technologically challenged, so let's not mention the shittiness of that graph or how it's creeping off the page into the sidebar. Okay? Good. Looking at the line, we see the tension begins well, rising nicely and then it takes a nosedive and levels out. These are the scenes that we want to look at more closely on rewrite. The tension should slowly build to the climax, part of that whole rising action thing. So areas that dip or level off as in chapter two of our example, need to be revamped to push that line upward, rather than down. How? Examine the scene. How does it end? Did you resolve it completely and tie a pretty little ribbon on it? Not good. We want the reader to turn the page. So instead of ending it with a resolution, we end it slightly before, moving the resolution to the next scene. See how easy that is?



But what if I did end it on a cliffhanger? Why is it so suckish? How much action and dialogue are there in comparison to exposition? Exposition, as I mentioned earlier slows the pace, which breaks the tension. Try to rewrite to remove it and then have another look. Better? It should be.



I have no exposition and a kickass cliffhanger ending, but it still reads kind of flat. Okay, does anything happen? Oh I know they drove to the bar and had a few drinks, but why? What was the purpose? What was it either during that drive or while having drinks that served to move the plot forward? Nothing? This is where the writer has to be tough. If it does nothing, delete it. Can't? Try to move it or add something that moves the story along, that furthers the main goal of the protagonist. Each scene must serve a purpose. It must move the story along. Otherwise, it's fluff. We don't want fluff.



There are many ways to boost tension. So I turn it over to you, dear friends. How do you create tension in your novels?

Circle Time

Well, circle time is always fun on the edge, don't you think? I do. Here, grab a stool, tell Clive what you'd like to drink and let's share. What are we sharing this time? I thought we could play a little game. Well, not really a game. Sort of. Okay, it's a game.





Imagine you have your favorite author sitting in front of you. He's on his fourth margarita, and feeling the punch. You've softened him up with your charm and your wit, and he's pretty much willing to tell you anything. (I'll tell you a secret; I'm having a hard time imagining my favorite author. Clive all liquored up keeps creeping into the chair. I need help.)



Anyway, you can ask this author anything. I mean absolutely anything, and he'll answer your question honestly. If he doesn't...let's say it doesn't end well for him. Tell me, what five things would you want to know?



Now, let's switch the fantasy to your least favorite author. One that annoys the shit out of you. Just the fact that he continues to breathe and write makes you want to smother tiny fluffy things. Same set up, what 5 things would you ask him?



*Note: Or her. Perhaps it's a female. I don't know. Him was simpler and all this politically correct he/she nonsense drives me batshit. My favorite is a man, so there you go. Suck it up.



Me?



Favorite Author (I have too many so I won't name names and you don't have to either)



1. Do you think there is a difference between "author" and "writer"?



2. A lot of writers claim they write to 'be read' and not to make money. Do you buy that? Why or why not?



3. Ebooks: The end of the paperback or a bunch of bullshit?



4. What advice would you give a newb about the publishing industry (and none of this keep trying crap, the truth)?



5. Which author makes you jealous and why?



Least Favorite Author (again, there are so many, I won't name names)



1. What were you thinking when you wrote _______________?



2. Do you really feel you write well or did you just get lucky?

3. What's the difference between an author and a writer?



4. Can you really justify charging people $____ for your book and wasting _____ hours of their life?



5. Is there a publishing couch? (because seriously, it's the only thing that explains the exisitence of some bestsellers to me)





Ouch....

Top Five Peeves about Writers...and Other Stuff

Perhaps I'm getting cynical, or maybe I always have been, but I often find myself irritated at various writers in various situations for the same damn reason every time. My family and friends also say I'm irritated by pretty weird stuff in general, so I thought it might be fun to list what annoys me most about writers, and other stuff.

Writers



5. Self published writers who claim they didnt' go traditional because, "I just want to be read."



Really? Is that all? That's why you've spend months with that chunk of paper? So someone will read it? Okay, get a beta reader and be done with it. Someone read it, you are fulfilled. Right? If you just want to be read, don't charge for your book when you do self publish it. That would make it get real read, real fast. After all, you aren't in it to make money, right?



4. Writers who claim that they refuse to write in __________ genre or ___________ POV, because all but the genre/POV they have chosen are wrong and will not sell.



Let's be honest, you don't write in that POV or genre because you a) tried and failed, or b) don't care to try and fail. Writing off an entire style of writing simply because you decide it is inferior is seriously limiting yourself. Hey, I don't care if you want to do that, just don't try to tell me that the POV or genre I choose is wrong or won't sell, because at some point, I will prove you wrong. (actually, someone probably already has)



3. Writers who are unpublished/self published who claim traditional publishers are against them/us/you and will only publish established authors. In particular, seasoned authors (who should know better) who recommend to new authors that they give up trying before they even start.



COME ON! Okay, so it may not be for you, or perhaps this route is too hard for you or you don't have the patience or the time to wait for your work to be appreciated, or to learn what you need to in order to write something good enough for a traditional publisher. Traditional publishers want something they know will sell. It's a business folks. They treat it as such. It's tough, it's frustrating, it's enough to make one want to build a bomb and...never mind. But traditional publishing isn't going anywhere and no one is 'against' new writers. They'd love to get their hands on a fresh new talent who they can slap on the marketing train to a big payday. It's our job to make sure they see that new author in our work.



2. The "I know all, have done all, and you can't tell me differently because I have so much experience that I can't possibly fail." writer.



Piss off. That is all.



1. Writers who don't want critique, but keep asking for it.



This type of writer annoys the shit out of me. The most annoying, although pretty close to number two for me. You know what? If you don't want critique, feedback or suggestions, don't join writing groups, workshops or classes. Just don't. Don't waste the time of those who want to learn and who want to improve their novels. Real writers know that offering gushing reviews full of rainbows and butterflies is not helpful and they just won't do it. Lazy writers want accolades and love. Listen, if you want someone to pat you on the back for your brilliance, then let your friends and family read your writing, not serious writers. Do I sound especially upset about this? I am. I've read manuscripts for writers (at their request) and offered feedback, suggestions, etc. that have been completely shot down or, in a couple of cases, insulted. I don't have a lot of time on my hands. I read because I learn from it and I like doing it. But if you're not wanting honest, no bullshit kind of feedback, don't waste my time. These people, I will never read for again. I see them in writing groups as well. They post something and as soon as they get feedback, they're all over it. "Well it's the style I prefer. I know its passive but passive is a subjective thing." No, it is not. Shut up. If I notice these responses in writing and critique groups, I simply don't read or comment on their work ever again.



Other Stuff



5. Stupid Commercials



Yep. The Robaxacet commercials with those faceless puppet things with the pins in them? Hate those, can't even watch them. I'll leave the room if I don't have the remote. I also hate obnoxious radio advertising and car commercials that always seem to be completely irrelavent. I change the channel just to avoid watching car advertising. Oh, and that Tide commercial. Cold weather is a Canadian sport? No self respecting Canadian would ever say they'll stay inside and wait for warmer temperatures? It's not because we LIKE the cold, stupid. If we waited for a warmer day in the winter, we'd never go outside. We certainly don't say "Oh, it's -30. Awesome! Let's go see who can freeze their nuts off faster." Dumbest commercial ever.



4. Close Talkers, Touchers, and Huggers



It's called personal space for a reason people. Don't crowd mine and you'll keep your face intact. Close talkers bother me because I don't like people breathing in my face or on me. Is that weird? Probably. I will wake up from a deep sleep if the person next to me turns to face me. I can't handle that at all. Touchy people who are always picking lint from my clothes, touching my arm/hand/other body part, or fixing my hair or makeup drive me bonkers. I've ended friendships because I just couldn't handle it. Seriously. Why do people do this? I can handle relatives and kids doing this because I guess it's normal, excusable. But if you aren't blood or too young to know better, just keep your damn hands to yourself. Last, the huggers. Ugh. Just keep away.



3. Waiting Rooms.



I'm impatient. I make no excuses for it. I just am. I hate waiting for anything. Putting something in the microwave kills me. One whole minute? Gasp! When I make an appointment, why is it so hard for the person on the other end of this arrangement to see me at the specified time? If you consistently 'run over' on all of your appointments, accomodate for this. I mean, you do this daily, learn how to schedule your time a little better. Five minutes to twenty minutes, I'm pretty okay with, but longer? You're lucky I'm sick/in pain/have obvious roots because if I didn't, I'd so walk out. Actually, I have walked out a few times.



2. Spontaneous Visitors.



Call. Before. You. Visit. Me.



1. Feet



My feet, your feet, their feet - all feet are nasty. Don't touch mine. Don't touch me with yours. Definitely don't touch my feet with your feet. (shudders) We'll get along just fine. I have become violent over this issue. Even my kids don't mess with feet. No, I've never been violent with them. They just seemed to 'know' that feet were a no-no for Mommy. Oh, is that terrible? I don't care. Like those of you who wash your hands obsessively and grease down your grocery cart with a bottle of sanitizer before shopping (WTF? How do you eat the food you buy from those dirty shelves? Do you know where it's been?) I have my foot quirk. We're all entitled to a tiny bit of OCD aren't we?



So, that's my top five peeves about writers and other stuff. I'm proud of myself. I didn't get all nasty...well not real nasty, and I kept profanity to a minimum. There are specific writers who piss me off, but I'll save that post for another day. What are your writer and stuff peeves?

Finish it, if you dare.

[image error] So, I thought I had a stroke of genius, but obviously I've been too deep in the bottle again. I love it when a plan doesn't come together. What? I'm not making any sense? Well I'm drunk, what do you expect.



Okay, so I'm not really drunk. But I'm seriously thinking about it. Thanks to those adventurous souls who helped this story limp along. You guys are awesome. Here's what we have so far:



"Let's play," she flung her coat over the chair. "Only this time, we're gonna play by my rules."



"What? Now you want to play? Give me a break." He shoved his hands in his pockets and turned toward the door.



He didn't like relinquishing control, especially not to her.



Besides, he knew what was in the coat



She kicked the chair in his path then sauntered over like a jaguar, long limbs and grit.



"You've underestimated me," she fingered the edge of the coat, smiling wickedly.



"Don't touch the coat," he growled, pulling it around himself protectively.



"You look damn silly in that. Pink's just not your colour."



"You really want to play? Then the coat is not pink; it's blue." The coat changed color.



"Pink or blue, you shouldn't have that coat or what is in it. I taught you better than that."



Something rippled inside the coat pocket, long, languid bumps and grinds as if it were looking for a way out.







We have a lot of inconsistencies here. Care to point out what and where they are?

 

And...I've changed the rules. Why? Because it's my Edge and I can. Like it or lump it. What's the change? Well, because we're all busy, and I think you want this over with as much as I do, I'm going to make this short and sweet.

 

End it.

 

Best ending wins a book of his or her choice. Go.

Let's Play

Recently I've been studying the craft of rewriting. Of course, I've been studying that for a few years now, but lately it's been with purpose and focus. Because of the articles I write, I have to make sure that the process is clear and accurate in my head before relaying that information to others.

Sometimes my brain screams for something more interesting to do, but I have to say, it's kind of fun most of the time. I learn something new and immediately I'm ripping out a manuscript and applying it. It's like a kid with a new toy. I just have to try it out.



So, I thought perhaps you might enjoy a little game here at the Edge. It will be played in three parts. First, we'll write a story (in the comments section of course). Each comment will provide one line of the story. You can comment and add as many times as you like, but try to keep it to a sentence each time. Maximum 2 sentences per post. Got it?



I'll give you the first line and I'll add an ending when we're done. Let's give it a few days. So Wednesday, March 16th, we'll stop adding to the story. Then I'll gather it into a document and post the story as a whole.



From the second post, we're going to rewrite the story. I challenge all of you to condense the story into less than 750 words, which means removing fluff and anything that doesn't move the story forward. Rewrite dialogue to remove unnecessary tags and silly things like eyes burning and such. I challenge you to remove the telling as well and add setting if necessary. The biggest challenge will be to smooth the bumps out as having several people writing one line at a time will leave quite a bit of that. Cool?



Post your revision into the comments with your name.



I'll post my revision as well and then I'll ask for votes on the best rewrite.



BUT there is a catch to the voting. If you vote, I want you to also explain why the revised version you chose is better. What was done right? I'll tally the votes, any that don't explain are void, and post the winning revision the following week.



Ah hell, the winning rewrite gets a free book of their choice. How's that? My purpose here is to show that editing and rewriting can change your prose dramatically. I bet we have more than one take on the story when we're through.



Are you all game?



Okay, here's your opening line:



"Let's play," she flung her coat over the chair.

Character

This post began as one about characterization, and I suppose it still is in a way. I think we need to talk about the character which we as writers put out into the world. Twitter and various other sites have recently been ablaze with something called the YA mafia and some project that sparkles or glitters, something pretty and shiny, anyway...WTF?



I will not post links to anything on either side of this insanity. I simply want to discuss this as a whole in terms of pitfalls that can trip up new writers.



I read a couple of posts related to this mafia and this project, and man, I wonder what this world is coming to when we're overcome by the temptation to abuse the anonymity that the internet provides. Tearing apart writers under a pseudonym or an avatar, so that we can anonymously get our kicks and suffer no consequences screams "Look at me! I'm a coward! Kiss my anonymous yellow ass." Are we or are we not adults? Yes? Let's act as adults act then. Own what we say, take our lumps if we say something stupid.



Apparently we have in the publishing world something that is called the YA mafia. This is the latest conspiracy theory. Have you ever heard of anything so ridiculous in your life? These powerful authors who make up this badass group, methodically work together to ruin the careers of writers who dare to speak against them or (eek) give them a bad or negative review. They spend their days scheming and plotting to bring the little guy down. I say little guy, because allegedly, these are bestselling authors doing this scheming. Boy, they must have an awful lot of time on their hands. I can't wait to write a bestseller so I can twiddle my thumbs all day. (sarcasm)



Deep breath now. In...out....good. Let's be adults and examine this a little more...realistically. Ruining careers? No one, and I do mean no one, can ruin your career but you. Got it? If you do stupid things, consequences will happen. You put negative out there and negative will come back at you. It's life. Suck it up. Publishers and agents have a mind of their own and are not going to be swayed because one of 'their' authors says "Oh, so and so is a horrible and awful person and you should never represent/publish them." Seriously folks. Think about that for just a moment. Agents and publishers are out to make money. If they didn't represent damn fine writing simply because one of their clients dislikes that person, how the hell are they going to make money? They're going to represent another, less talented writer instead in order to keep the client happy? I think not. The mafia? Doesn't exist. Even if it did, my opinion is that it would be a highly ineffective group.



As for these reviews in this project...ahem. From what I've seen, the only readers paying attention are readers who aren't thinking for themselves. Do I read book reviews? Of course I do. Do I base my decision to buy a book on reviews? Yes, all the time. If I see a nasty review where the reviewer tears the author a new one, I. Buy. That. Book. Tell me I shouldn't and I just have to see why. If I see glowing reviews with nothing but fluff, meh, I might or might not buy it. When friends review a book and critique the writing in an intelligent and reasonable manner, stating that they didn't like it because....I might hesitate to buy that book. First, these are readers whose tastes I know, and second, they aren't reviewing to tear someone down. They're offering an opinion and nothing else. When did book reviews become a way to rip someone apart? They're supposed to be about the book, not the author. I suppose I'm naive or just poorly informed and it's always been this way.



What should writers do about such things? I can't say I wouldn't be very eager to retaliate should I be the target of such nastiness. My Irish would definitely rise to that challenge. However, my common sense would ask why I'd fuel the fire.



The important thing for all authors, published or unpublished, to remember is that we reap what we sow. If you tear apart another author out of jealousy or spite, it will come back to bite you in the ass. If you make shit up in order to make your actions look reasonable, it too will come back to haunt you. Karma, baby. Belive in it.

Love and Sex: Is There a Wrong Way?

Love scenes.



Didn't see that coming, did you? Hehe. I'm crafty that way. Actually, I'm thinking of a scene right now...but perhaps my tastes are a bit different than most. Something about a sexy beast holding me while shooting at a murderous thug--blog post, Renee. Writing a blog post.



Recently I've had the pleasure of reading some great love scenes, like those in Maria Zannini's True Believers, which made reading the not so great scenes in another bestselling novel a distant memory. You can read that review here. For those easily offended, I will warn you, there is a large amount of clit in that review.



Anyway, it got me to thinking, what makes a good love scene? What makes a good sex scene? Is there a difference? I think there is. A love scene involves far more than just two characters getting it on. We, as writers, have to stir more than just the reader's lust. We must convey the intimacy and vulnerability of the characters involved. I'll share later, to show you the difference. Don't worry, it's R-rated at best. Definitely no X's on the Edge.



How do you avoid cliche's when writing these scenes? Here's one way: Avoid purple at all costs. I swear if I see the words manroot, love cave, orbs, mound, or anything like that in place of penis, vagina, or whatever words real live humans use for those bits and pieces, I'm done with the scene. I know we need variety, I mean, in my review I explain that, although clit is a great little word, overuse makes it as bad as writing love button instead. But does variety mean writers should go all crazy and fancy with naming these parts? No, good writers will find a way around it. The reader is smart enough to know that tab A goes into slot B, and so the writer doesn't always have to spell that bit out. You can write a sex/love scene without even going into the tutorial.



Yes, a poorly written sex/love scene is a bit of a pet peeve for me. I hate poorly written scenes, but poorly written sex is just inexcusable. If you can't do it without embarrassing yourself, then avoid them. Fade to black, whatever works. If you can't work up the nerve to write penis, dick, or cock instead of dagger, manhood, or love club, then just don't write it at all. But (because I like to be contrary) be sure the word you're using suits the scene. In the novel that I reviewed, one love scene (there were many) began very sweetly, almost poignant, and then the writer smashed the shit out of my fantasy by inserting cock in the middle of it. And clit, yes clit showed up too. That ruined the moment and for me, as the reader, it jolted me right out of the scene. I literally jumped. Then I threw the book as though it caught fire. Then I picked it up again because damn it, that book cost me a good chunk of change.



Why am I blogging about it? I've had to write two scenes for my post apocalypse (sort of) story that involve sex with a tiny bit of romance sprinkled in. The participants are dirty, tired and smelly and laying on the ground on a blanket that's as nasty as their bodies. I considered going with the standard scene, but then I thought, no that's not realistic. They're fulfilling a need in the first scene. It isn't love. It's basic. The characters just need to feel human again, to hold someone and have someone hold them. Survival, get it? So standard romance doesn't fit. Neither does cock or clit, so I was having quite the time writing the first scene. The second, because the awkwardness of the first was over and the characters have developed a mutual affection, was slightly less difficult.



Anyway, I considered what makes a good love scene and how is that judged. I know that what I consider 'hot' might not be everyone's cup of tea, but surely there's a guideline, some sort of happy medium that writers can work toward in order to spare their readers from the extremes of moist tunnel and multiple clits. Right? Am I right?



Okay, so here's a sampling of a sex scene. It's a work in progress. Love need not apply here:



(WARNING: SEX TO FOLLOW er...not like actual sex. Um...written sex. You know what I mean.)



"I don't know what I want. Why don't you surprise me?"



"If you don't know, how can I decide? There are so many possibilities. Are you sure there's nothing you need? I guess I could just climb on so you can be done with it and go home to your wife." Her voice turned cold.



Whitney might look like a woman and she moved like a woman, but she behaved as spoiled and unpredictable as a twelve year old girl.



"Don't be that way. You know I like to spend all of my time with you." Jack pulled her back over his chest, brushing his lips over hers. She purred deep in her throat and ground her hips against his. "I want you to take that damn shirt off first, and then I want to taste you. How's that?"



She leaned back, pulling her shirt over her head. Jack's mouth watered. Whitney had magnificent breasts. Even before the kids, Jenny's tits never looked like Whitney's. Jenny's had been small and pert. Whitney's were round and heavy.



"Are you sure you want to taste? Maybe you want me to do something for you first. Then we can play later with these." She pinched her hardened nipples, bending to to taste herself. "Mmmm, that is good though, maybe I don't need you after all."



"I doubt you need anyone, but I need you."



She smiled and slid down his body until her face hovered above his thighs.



"That's a good girl, now show me what that pretty little mouth can do."



"What do you want? You want me to kiss it?" Whitney raised wide blue eyes to his. "Is that all you need? Or do you want me to lick it?" She flicked her tongue across the tip and Jack's legs turn to jelly.



If someone burst in with a grenade and threatened to blow them up, he couldn't have moved.

 

****

 

Is that too coarse? Is it startling, shocking or icky? Maybe. Since Jack hasn't been exposed to many readers, I won't know if he is in the too many clits category. However, I did carefully consider every word I used.

 

Now love? Here's love and sex:

 

Wade lifted her and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He carried her down the bar to the pool tables, his lips never leaving hers. He pushed his tongue into her mouth and she groaned as he teased her, pulling away when she met him with her own.





"I wanted this to be special, not like this. This is…" He set her down in front of the table.



"This isn't special?" She imagined Wade and Sheila atop the pool table and her sudden bravery faltered, her mind screaming at her to stop.



Wade frowned and tugged at the button on her jeans. "You aren't running, are you?"



She shook her head, steeling her resolve. What he did before and with who didn't matter, shouldn't matter. Just once, she needed to be with him and then if he never wanted her again at least she'd have this night.



"God, I've waited years to see you like this." Wade lifted her shirt over her stomach, running his hands up her sides to her breasts.



Kristina helped him pull the shirt over her head and then pushed her jeans down over her hips. He caught her hands in his and placed them behind her on the table.



"What?" Suddenly she felt uncertain, shy.



"Let me," he lifted her onto the table, the cool wood of the rail dug into her bottom and her heart skipped at the thought of what she was doing.



Almost naked in a bar, making love to a married man on a pool table—what the hell was she thinking?



Wade knelt in front of her, pulling her jeans down and over her legs. He kissed her ankle, trailing his tongue up her calf, over the inside of her thigh before doing the same to the other leg. Kristina gasped when he dipped his head, flicking his tongue against her before looking up with a grin.



"Want to run?"



She shook her head arching her back when he lowered his head once more. "Never."



His mouth roamed her body, tasting, teasing, before he stood and unbuckled his belt. She stared as he lowered his jeans, her body trembling when he stepped out of them and moved toward her to grip her waist, pulling her against him. His flushed face and the intensity of his gaze sobered Kristina, she couldn't remember anyone looking at her as Wade did.



I wrote this scene many times. Why? I wanted the emotion to be evident. I want this one to affect the reader in a different way than the first. I wanted the reader to feel what Kristina felt, the tortured need to be with him despite the obvious reasons that she should stay away. Which is better? Personally, I prefer the second, but I don't mind the first if the intent is purely fun reading. Jack is definitely fun.

What do you look for in a love scene? Do you write them or do you avoid them?

Insanity is a Gift

[image error] Way back in December, I posted a chapter of a post apocalyptic novel I've been puttering away at. Actually, the puttering stopped and said novel went into the pile of WIPs that I wish I had the time and the focus to finish. Insanity tends to make one easily distracted. I'm always very easily enamoured with new ideas so I'll pause and write an outline, then something else happens, and I deal with that, then before I know it, I've got five chapters written of the new story and original story is gathering dust. It's how my mind works.



Actually, it's probably why I have finished novels that are so completely different. I need to write what I'm in the mood (re: inspired) to write. I can rewrite anything at any time, but the initial draft is written in a different mindset. The one that's fun.



Anyway, I'm rambling. this story was mostly stalled because I hadn't finished the outline and I had absolutely no idea what I was doing with it. I don't need to work from an outline, but I at least need to know my intended ending. I say intended because the ending I finish with is never the same as the one I plan. But that doesn't matter. I HAVE to have a direction to write toward. Do I make any sense?



I was bitching about this to Kurt, and he's all like, "Something that I can't share because it would give the whole story away but let's just say insert insane idea here." I was like "Right. Thanks for nothing." And I stormed off to my office/garage to chat with the moles while I pondered whether or not to give up on this one. But you know, the more I thought about it, the less crazy the ending he proposed seemed. So inside I went. Kurt dutifully muted the hockey game and answered my questions. Then, when he started doing the nod and smile thing, I knew I'd lost his attention. So upstairs I went and out to the garage...er, my office. I emailed a dear friend who always gives me honest feedback, whether I want it or not, and he didn't say crazy even once. He loved it.



So, now I have an outline. I'm writing. I wrote more than 3000 words over the past couple of days in a story I struggled to write even 500 words a day for months. Interesting, no?



Of course, I'm going to share a bit. Imagine for a moment:





A beep from his computer brings Matthew's gaze to the screen above his head. He stares, too shocked to blink, and too afraid to believe what he's seeing. His hand goes to the keys in front of him and he pulls up a different view. It shows the same thing, only closer, more definite. But it can't be. They'd have had warning; something would have shown up long before now. How could the entire world have missed it?





"Hey Carl," he calls to his co-worker, another meteorologist working for the KPLA news station. "Come look at this."





Carl, who rarely rises from his chair, rolls over to his desk, the wheels of his chair squeak under his considerable weight. "What?"





"Is that what I think it is?" He points to the screen and Carl leans his bald head in. His normally ruddy cheeks drain of color.





"My God—" Carl covers his mouth and leans back in his overburdened chair.





"It's already here. What should we do?"





"Pray."





##





In a weather station in Thailand, a group of three meteorologists realize far too late what has happened. As the earth rumbles, they too bow their heads.





Across the ocean, Canadian scientists scramble to send out warnings, but they won't have enough time. Nor will the Welsh scientist who wakes from his afternoon nap at his desk to the bleeping sound that heralds disaster. Rubbing his eyes he squints at the email from his peer in Alaska. "Bloody hell."





All over the world this scene is replayed again, and again. Whispers of prayers, sobs, and cries of despair are echoed from America to Zimbabwe, and for once the world can agree on something; the end is here.



 

Oooh...see where I'm going with this? No? Okay, here's a bit from Chapter 4:

 

 

A warbling reached his ears and Rayne exchanged a puzzled glance with Mel. "You got a phone?"





"No. You?" Mel stopped and turning to the rest of their group. "Anyone got a phone?"



Laughter echoed back. "If we did, don't you think we'd have used it?" someone snapped.



The warbling filled the air again and Rayne's brain registered its location. His pocket. "I have it. It's me. I forgot I grabbed this earlier." Cheeks burning, he pulled the satellite phone from his pocket and flipped it open.



"Hello?"



"Bonjour? Qui est-ce? Parlez-vous Francais?"



"Pas bien," Rayne replied. His French was rusty at best. "Parlez-vous Anglais?"



"Oui—er, yes. I do. Who is this?"



"My name is Rayne Summers. I'm on Mount Kilimanjaro with a group of passengers from flight—"



"How many?" the thickly accented voice asked.



"How many?"



"Passengers—how many are you?"



"Fifty-eight…no, fifty six. We've crashed and we need help. It's unusually cold and we have very little food. Some of us are critically injured."



"I'm sorry, Monsieur Summers. You are—how you say—on yourselves?"



Mel shuffled in the dirt next to him. Rayne digested the Frenchman's garbled English. On their own? "I don't understand,"



"Listen carefully," the phone beeped and static filled his ear.



"Fuck," Rayne held the phone up, the battery light flashed. He put it back to his ear. "If you can hear me, please, call me back. I have to change the batteries in the phone. Please, call me back if you can."



Nearly dropping the phone in his haste, Rayne flipped it over and ripped the battery cover from the back. He pulled the dead battery and tossed it aside. Stuffing his hand in his pocket, he cursed as he came up empty handed. Switching the phone to the other hand he searched his other pocket and came up with nothing again. He reached inside his coat. Damn military issue—his fingers scraped plastic and he breathed a sigh of relief.



"What is it? Are they coming?" Sarah's whine grated on his nerves.



He wanted to tell her to shut up, to just stop with the constant questions, but he bit the words back. She was young, very pregnant and married to an asshole. A little whining could be expected. Rayne jammed the battery in place and flipped the phone over to turn it on.



"No. I don't know what's going on. The phone died before I co—" the phone warbled once more. Rayne opened it and put it to his ear. He barely opened his mouth when the Frenchman cut him off.



"Listen carefully, and do not interrupt. I have important news for you and you must hear me."



"I'm listening," Rayne managed.



"You are on yourselves. There has been a major…event? Um…disaster, yes, a disaster. An asteroid, which we'd been watching for a number of years, changed course unexpectedly. No one saw it coming. I don't know how, but we all missed it."



Rayne felt dizzy, his heartbeat echoed in his ears and a large hole opened inside of his belly. Asteroid. The word echoed in his mind.



"The impact was in the Atlantic, huge asteroid. I estimate at least four miles wide. It caused a tsunami, which in turn caused earthquakes and more tsunamis. There is nothing left."



"Nothing left? Of the continent?" Rayne couldn't wrap his brain around what the man was telling him. An entire continent gone? Impossible.



"No, not the continent." Rayne closed his eyes. Thank God. "The world. It's gone. Buildings, land, plant life, animals, houses…humans. All gone."



"That's impossible,"



"I wish it were so. I've contacted others…two in China, a group of five stuck on Everest, a half dozen in Canada, and a handful more scattered around the world…you are the biggest group left. I have limited resources here. I am a researcher stationed in Alaska, an observation station—it doesn't matter. I am the only one here. No food, no heat, and no hope of rescue. I fear I will be gone in a matter of days. The others, they have major injury, and no food. They will not last either."



"What are you telling me?" Rayne's ears roared with his words. Gone. All of it gone. It couldn't be. The world could not end.



"You will not be rescued. This is what I am saying. Do what you have to in order to survive because you are all you have. No one is coming, Monsieur. I am sorry."



"How did you know to call this number?"



"I didn't. I have a machine which works much like a…telemarketer? It runs through the numbers available, dialing until it finds an answer then I receive a…notice…or an alarm from it and I pick up the phone. I don't have anymore numbers available. You're the last."



"What do we do?"



"Pray?"



"Frankly, Monsieur, I wasn't too religious before today and I think I lost all belief in God just this minute."

_____



So? Rough, I know. That's all I can share right now.



My point? No idea is ever too crazy for fiction. Don't tell Kurt, but from now on I'm keeping a file of his insanity. You never know when he'll have another stroke of brilliance.