Kate Genet's Blog, page 11

Fat Pat Steps Forward (what happens to Maryanne?)

How disconcerting it is to wake up with the wrong character in your head.  When I'm writing, I know I'm ready to start on a story because the characters are talking to me. They're babbling on in the background, telling me about this and telling me about that, just rambling on in the same way we would probably do if we could have a conversation with someone who was an extremely good listener and who didn't require us to censor ourselves for public consumption.

For writing purposes, of course, this is extremely useful. It means that I become well acquainted with the character's voice – and a strong voice is what every story needs. It's not the author's voice we need to hear in a story either, though there is a lot in books on writing about the necessity of developing your 'voice'. What really is meant by developing your voice as a writer, is actually developing your own writing style. Is it pared down to basics and clipped neat and clean, much like Hemmingway, or is your natural style more verbose, descriptive, evoking character and setting in dozens of little details? It is style that, as readers, we tend to accept or push away and which dictates, along with story, which writer's work we enjoy reading. Some of us like lushness in each paragraph, others sparseness where story is told through action and description is sparing.

But that's style. Every story also has its own voice, and it is the voice of the character. Reading is a funny thing, when you think about it. When we read, we are actually hearing – hearing the story as though it is spoken in our minds. Which is why it is so important to have a clear and interesting voice to the narrative. When I think about my own reading habits, actually it's the voice that makes or breaks the story for me. It's the first thing you notice  when you open a new book to the first page and if the voice there is strong and engaging, you're far more likely to keep reading. This narrative voice can be as far from our own personal experience as the sun is from the moon, but if it can hold us, if it speaks with enough assurance, we find ourselves invested in the story right from that first page.

Which, back almost to my first point, is why I never start writing until my main character is talking so loudly in my head that I not only learn all sorts of things about her from her waffling commentary, but I can gain an understanding of who she is, what she loves, what she hates – and most importantly – what she wants, just from the way she speaks, her voice, accent, vocabulary and fluency. Once I have this going on, I know that when I start writing her onto the page, she'll sound like herself, a rounded, fully formed character, not just an echo of someone, a paler version of a different character, but she'll be complete in herself.

For this is one of my fears – that all the characters I write are going to sound the same and I'll just end up with one basic voice I stick in a myriad of situations. I hope that never happens.

So it was doubly disconcerting this morning to be enjoying my morning coffee and to notice suddenly that there was a new character in my head. And not at all my usual sort of character. Instead, it was a six foot four male trucker with a weight problem. Not just a weight problem either. A bit of bother with the wife.

My most popular blog post in the whole year I've been writing them is the one titled Fat Pat and the Accidental Death of Maryanne. I wrote this in April of last year and I still find there are people coming to my blog every week through a search for this one post. In it, Trisha from Shadows Fall tells a story about a guy in her home town who accidentally (or otherwise) killed his wife.

This is the character I have talking in my head today. Fat Pat, the guy who kills his wife, perhaps accidentally, perhaps not. He's pretty persistent about telling his side of the story, so today I've temporarily put aside my other work to write down his story. It's only going to go to about 20 000 words, I should think (a very long short story or a very short novella) so should take just a few days, but I'm hooked by his voice already. The story's not told by Trisha this time – Pat's taken the stage. I didn't think I'd like the guy, but if nothing else, he's pretty compelling, and not at all a really bad guy. So why then, does he want to kill his wife?

I'm looking forward to finding out. And when I do, I'll make his story available in case you want to read it too.

Filed under: Writing Journal

World Building with Words

I've been procrastinating about writing a blog post all week. It's the summer holidays here and after a week staying at my brother's holiday house in the warm, sunny Bay of Islands here in NZ, I'm having a great deal of trouble shifting back into work mode. I expect you're supposed to come back from holiday all refreshed and raring to go but the only place I want to go is back on holiday!

It's been a year now since I started this blog and uploaded the first of my stories for people to read. What an incredible year it's been too. I've met some fantastic people, had a lot of fun being a pretty productive writer, even received fan mail – which completely floored me – and decided to start this year head down and bum up writing furiously.

But the best laid plans and all that didn't take into account an unexpected offer of a holiday in the sun and coming home feeling like doing pretty much anything but putting words on the page one after the other and hoping that they're in the right order.

Why does it feel like such a big deal to start writing a new book? Probably because it actually is. It takes an awful lot of commitment to start writing a novel, knowing that you are going to be sitting down to it almost every day for the next few months and looking that blank page in the eye, knowing you and only you are responsible for putting all those squiggly little letters upon it. Letters, words, sentences, paragraphs, all of which have to say so much more than what they actually mean.

Writing is an imprecise exercise. No matter how you try, a word is never going to encompass the entire meaning you want it to. At best it only approximates the object, vision, idea you have in your head. Fancy going into a job with your only tools being an alphabet full of letters and a language full of words, none of which can possibly mean everything you want them too. They're slippery little buggers, words – anyone who has ever tried to write poetry can attest to that one. And yet, we build whole worlds out of them.

What an amazing thing to do – build whole worlds just with words. No bricks, mortar, wood, hammer, nails. Only words. Thinking about it makes me shiver. With awe, fear and a delicious sense of possibility.

Starting is always the hardest part of any new endeavour, I suspect. But now that I'm really thinking about it, I find myself wanting to turn to that blank page and start filling it in. Because I can build whole worlds, just with those little, imprecise, slippery things called words. I can sit in a room on my own, making things up, and after a while, I can show you this new world I built and invite you to stay a while in there with me.

I love my job.

I think I'll write the first page of my new story right now.

Filed under: Writing Journal

Sweet Charlotte Now Available

It's late in the afternoon here, and after a few frantic days making some last minute edits on my new Trisha and Michaela book, I'm pleased to say that I've just uploaded (the way I feel at the moment, maybe that should be off-loaded ) SWEET CHARLOTTE onto Amazon and Smashwords.

It's available this very minute at Smashwords, for $2.99 and hasn't gone live yet over on Amazon, but will within a few hours. It will take longer, unfortunately, to trickle through to Barnes & Noble, iBooks, Sony and Kobo, but what can I say – it's on it's way!

I'm too tired right now to dance any jigs in celebration but it's a good tired – the sort you feel when a project finally comes together and you can sit back and relax, knowing you've done something worth doing.

So that's it for now, folks. I'm away to make something to eat and have a well-earned nap. Read your little hearts out!

Sweet Charlotte on Smashwords

 

Filed under: Writing Journal

Sweet Charlotte Sneak Peekeroo – First Chapter

"What's this?" Trisha asked, walking into the room holding an envelope in her hand. "Since when does anyone send anything by snail mail anymore?"

Michaela looked up. She was leaning against the bench, pouring over paperwork for the orchard. "Who's it addressed to?"

Trisha held it up. "You, of course," she said.

"Open it up babe, see what it is," Michaela replied and looked back down at the paperwork again. She was trying to figure out the best way to upgrade the irrigation.

"But it's addressed to you," Trisha protested. "I can't open your mail."

"Sure you can. I just said you could."  Damn, there was going to be another long discussion with the orchard manager. The sooner they got this figured out the better.

"It's a love letter," Trisha said.

Michaela turned to another of the pages spread out in front of her. "Uh huh."

"And the tickets for the Mediterranean cruise the two of you are going on."

Michaela nodded. "Sounds nice."

Trisha scowled. "Jeeze Michaela, you're not listening to a word I'm saying, are you? What do I have to do to get your attention these days? Parade around naked?"

Michaela lifted her head. "Did you say something about getting naked?" She made a show of checking her watch. "I have time for that, if we're quick."

Trisha folded her arms and glared at her.

Michaela flashed a sheepish grin and stood straight, stretching. "Yeah yeah, okay Trish. I'm listening now. When am I going on a cruise with this lover of mine, who, just for the record, I know nothing about?"

Trisha gave up. She put the letter down and dragged Michaela down to her level for a smacking kiss. "You," she said, "are impossible. I swear, if you weren't so dang hot, I'd trade you in lickety split."

Michaela removed Trisha's fingers from their grip on her ears and went back for another kiss. "Dang? Lickety split? What dictionary have you been reading now?"

Shrugging, Trisha hitched herself up onto the bench and sat on Michaela's papers swinging her feet. "I'm trying to tidy up my vocabulary," she said. "You know, what with us being guardians and role models and all that sh… stuff."

Michaela laughed, stepped up between Trisha's thighs and wrapped her arms around the woman. Trisha's legs hooked her closer. "Caro is going to kill herself laughing at you if she hears you saying lickety split," she murmured into the warmth of Trisha's neck. Then in one smooth movement, she hoisted Trisha up off the bench and placed her back on the floor. "You're cute little butt was sitting on my papers," she said. "Let's have a look at this letter then."

"It's an invitation," Trisha said and leaned against the bench instead. "From those weird friends of yours."

Michaela scanned the hand written note. "They're not weird," she said.

Trisha rolled her eyes.

"Okay," Michaela laughed. "They're a little weird. But they're inviting us to a party; that's all right isn't it?"

Trisha examined her nails. "It's a fancy dress party." She looked up. "I don't get the theme though."

Michaela looked at the note again. "Celia really gets off on fancy dress. Come as your favourite literary person of the 1920's. Well. You know what that means, don't you?"

Trisha shook her head and Michaela slung an arm around her shoulders. "It means, my gorgeous thing, there'll be music and funny coloured cocktails." She laughed. "We could go as Vita Sackville-West and Violet Trefusis; that would be fun."

Trisha shrugged out from under Michaela's arm and picked up the letter. "I don't know who they are, Michaela. Never heard of them. If we go along to this, I'm just going to be standing around feeling stupid. You know I am."

Michaela started gathering up her papers. She had to get back to work. "No you won't babe," she told Trisha. "It'll be fun, I guarantee it."

Trisha shook her head. "No way, it'll be like last time we went up there. You guys will sit around talking about books and art and crap and I'll sit there like a dummy."

Reaching out a finger, Michaela stroked the smooth, tanned skin on Trisha's hand. "I'm sorry you didn't enjoy that, sweetheart. We shouldn't have gone on like that. But this will be different. It will be a party – lots more people, and not all of them obsessed with books. It's only because Celia's a poet."

"And weird."

"A bit eccentric," Michaela conceded. "Think about it anyway, okay? I have to get back to the orchard."

Trisha sighed and tossed the invitation on the bench. "I suppose I'd better get ready for work too. Yay, afternoon shift on a Friday. Lucky me."

Michaela tucked the papers away for later. "I thought you were enjoying working at the café?"

Trisha screwed up her face. "It's okay. Just a bit too much like working at the diner. I thought I'd enjoy it more." She slipped into Michaela's arms and leaned her head against her shoulder. "What about you? Still loving the orchard?"

Michaela gave a short laugh. "Fuck the orchard," she said. "Nothing but a pain in the arse at the moment."

Trisha kissed the underside of Michaela's jaw. "We should find something else to do," she said. "We have the money to look around, if we want to."

They'd had this conversation before, or similar, when Trisha was first looking for a job. Michaela leaned her head against the top of Trisha's. "Can't quit the orchard, baby," she said. "You know that. Not unless there's something a whole lot better waiting for us."

"Yeah, so you keep saying. I'll go get ready for work then." Trisha straightened up and moved away to go have a shower. "Catch you later, okay?"

Michaela watched her leave the room. "Okay," she said to herself.

 

Surprisingly, Trisha had agreed to go to the fancy dress party and Michaela was waiting for her to finish getting ready. They were going as Vita Sackville-West and Violet Trefusis. Somehow, the idea of these two married women who kept running away together before being dragged back home had caught Trisha's imagination. Michaela put the finishing touches to the bandage she had wrapped around her head, and tried to fit the hat over the top of it. Trisha had listened in unaccustomed silence when Michaela had explained how Vita had dressed up as a wounded soldier, called herself Stephen and escorted Violet around Monte Carlo, gambling that they wouldn't be found out.

Trisha walked into the room, stopped, looked at Michaela and laughed. "You look fantastic," she said. "Love the suit, love the hat, where on earth did you get all this gear?" She twirled around to show off the snappy dress, hat and scarf she was wearing.

Michaela settled the hat, tipped it to a rakish angle and came over to take Trisha's hand. She bent over in in a bow, kissed it and grinned as Trisha burst into girlish giggling.

"You look absolutely smashing, my dear," Michaela told her.

Trisha giggled again. "And you look awfully handsome."  She smoothed down the collar of Michaela's shirt. "I hardly recognize you looking so smooth in shirt and suit and hat, I love the hat."

Michaela grinned. "Old Frank down the road was tickled pink to lend me some of his old gear. I've a feeling he was quite the ladies' man in his day."  She held out her arm. "Shall we go, my dear?" she asked.

Trisha laughed again, hooked her arm through her lover's and stuck out a foot. "Look," she said. "Shoes. With heels. Don't expect me to walk anywhere, will you?"

Michaela looked down. "What pretty feet you have. This must be the first time I've ever seen them in such lady-like shoes."

"Yeah, I know, funny isn't it? Just as well they're not very high. I never learned to walk in heels."

They headed out the door to the car.

 

"This is a pretty amazing place to live, you know," Trisha commented as Michaela parked the car. "It's stuck right on the side of a frigging mountain."

Michaela held the door for Trisha to climb out. "Sure is beautiful." She smiled at Trisha in her costume. "Not as beautiful as you, though."

Trisha rolled her eyes. "You are so corny," she said.

"And you love it."

Trisha kissed her. "Not going to admit it though, Babycakes. But I will say you're looking pretty damned hot, yourself."

They smiled at each other and walked toward the house, which did look as though it had been leveled out from steep hillside. Native bush filled the air with various green scents and somewhere, a bell bird sang a greeting from the treetops. The day was bright and warm and Trisha and Michaela followed the path up a wide sweep of lawn to a shady verandah.

"Are we early or something?" Trisha whispered, clinging to Michaela's arm and trying to stay upright on her heeled shoes.

"Looks a bit like it, doesn't it?" Michaela led them forward up the wide stairs to the verandah and both were relieved to see several women ranged at tables in the shade, sipping at mint green cocktails.

"Hey Laura," Michaela stopped to greet one of them.

The woman stood up and hugged Michaela and turned to give Trisha a quick embrace too. "It's Trisha, isn't it? Though not today, of course – who are you two today?" She stood back and surveyed them both, hand tucked under chin, considering. After a moment she squealed. "The bandage gives it away! You two absolutely must be Vita and Violet! Or rather, Stephen and Violet, you naughty girls."

Michaela shook her head in admiration. "Laura, you are probably the only one here who would be able to guess that right. I don't know how you do it."

Laura laughed and struck a pose. "Celia will guess too, I'll bet. But now – who am I?"

Michaela didn't even have to think. "The hair gives it away, Miss Katherine Mansfield." She gave a mock bow of greeting.

Laura clapped her hands. "Brilliant. And of course, you must meet my Ida Baker – Luce, honey, come here." A young woman, her fair hair tied back in a prim little bun stepped forward and smiled at them.

Introductions were made all round and talk turned to the day and the party.

"Who's Celia being today?" Michaela asked.

Laura grinned. "I should really make you guess when you see her, but it's a bit hard to tell, isn't it?" She gestured at the rest of the gathering, an attractive assortment of women dressed in similar styles. "Anyway, Celia's Gertrude Stein, of course. Looks quite fantastically formidable actually, though I'm a bit worried about her. She didn't look very well when I saw her before."

Michaela looked around the gathering. She knew most of the women, of course; it was a small community after all and Celia's parties always drew everyone together.

She hoped Celia was all right. "I'll go find her if I can," she said. "And get us a drink, what do you say Violet?"

Ida Baker held up her green concoction. "I have no idea what's in them," she said. "But they're delicious. Green Swizzlers or something, I think they're called."

"Sounds good to me," Trisha said. "How are we all supposed to drive home after a few of those, though?" she asked. "They are alcoholic, aren't they?"

"This is Celia's place," Laura laughed. "Even the food's alcoholic."

Michaela kissed Trisha's cheek. "I'll be the sober driver," she said. "But I reckon I could manage one of those, all the same. Let's go furnish ourselves with a couple of them, shall we?"

They wound their way past several couples talking and laughing, nodding hello, and stepped into the house. Trisha looked around. "This is some place," she said, taking in the dark floors, white walls and artwork everywhere.

"Sure is, isn't it?" Michaela agreed. "Celia's a bit of a collector – of art and people."

Trisha stepped closer to Michaela. "Who's Gertrude Stein?" she whispered.

Michaela looped an arm around her girlfriend. "American writer and art patron. She had a salon in Paris and hosted people like Hemmingway and Fitzgerald. Lived with a woman called Alice B. Toklas, who I imagine, Celia's partner Mandy is being today. You haven't met Mandy yet, have you?"

Trisha shook her head, feeling intimidated as they walked around the room together, admiring the canvases on the walls.

Michaela gave her a squeeze. "You'll love Mandy. Everyone does. She's like a surrogate mother to every gay girl in town." Michaela laughed. "Every time anyone hears of a new girl coming out, they always make sure someone takes her to meet Mandy. Poor things, because it means they have to meet Celia too, and she's like taking a dive in the deep end."

They walked through an archway into another room opening onto the verandah. Here was a drinks trolley, with Mandy mixing the minty green concoctions.

"Michaela! And you must be Trisha!" Mandy exclaimed, beaming at them. "I was hoping you were going to come."

Michaela leaned over and kissed the older woman on the cheek. "You know I'd never miss one of your parties," she said.

Mandy laughed and gave her a hug and one for Trisha too. "Celia's parties, you mean. She's the one who loves to organize these things." She stood back and looked at the two young women. "Tell me who you are; you have to – it's a frightfully obscure theme, isn't it?"

Michaela prodded Trisha.

"Violet Trefusis and Vita Sackville-West," Trisha said.

Mandy nodded her head. "Oh yes, those two," she said. "Always trying to run off together, weren't they? I must say Michaela, you look a very striking young man." She passed them both a green drink.

Michaela accepted the glass and took a sip. "Wow, that's really good," she said. "Where is Celia, if you don't mind me asking? Laura said she's not looking very well. I hope she's okay?"

Mandy's face clouded over and she hustled them away from the drinks trolley and the buzz of voices from outside. Michaela noticed suddenly that Mandy looked tired. She touched a hand to Mandy's shoulder.

"Is everything all right?" she asked.

Mandy shook her head. "I'm glad to see you both, actually, because Celia's been acting strangely the last couple of weeks. I thought you might be able to help."

Michaela and Trisha swapped glances. Trisha cleared her throat. "Why would we be able to help? I don't mean to be rude or anything…"  Her voice tailed away and she shrugged.

Mandy gave her a warm look and rubbed her arm. "I just thought, with all you did in America or wherever it was, that you might know what to do now."

Trisha's eyebrows shot upwards. "How did you hear about that? We've never talked about it." She looked over at Michaela. "Well, not really."

Mandy smiled. "It's a small town, love. Word gets around. All just rumours, of course, but enough to make me think you could do something."

Michaela shook her head, perplexed. "I'm not following, Mandy. What on earth is wrong?"

Mandy sighed. "Celia's not, well, been herself lately. She's been complaining about being followed all the time, but there's never anything there."

"But what makes you think we could help?" Trisha asked. "If she's imagining things, a doctor would be better, surely?"

Michaela's expression was pained. "Celia's not the type to imagine things, Trish."

Trisha looked impatient. "I still don't see how we can help," she said.

Mandy looked back and forward between them. "I just hoped maybe you'd have a talk to Celia. She's talking about the strangest things. Ghosts, elementals, I don't know. I don't understand any of it!" Her voice had risen, she was obviously worried. She made a visible attempt to get herself under control again. "You know a bit about these things, I thought, I'd heard. If you'd just talk to her, try to find out what's going on?"

Michaela grasped Mandy's hand and gave it a squeeze. "Of course we will. If there's anything at all we can do, of course we will."

Mandy's face collapsed in relief. "Thank you, Michaela. Thank you so much. And you Trisha." She grabbed Trisha's hand too and the three of them stood silent a moment.

"When do you want us to talk to her?" Michaela asked. "Now? Here at the party?"

Mandy shook her head. "No, Celia would hate that – you know how she is about her gatherings. They're for enjoying." Something took her attention behind them.

Michaela turned to look. Celia was bearing down on them, a large lady with close cropped hair, dressed in striped shirt, patterned waistcoat and long skirt. Michaela couldn't help but grin.

"Ms. Gertrude Stein!" she exclaimed. "At last I have the pleasure of telling you how much I admire your work." Michaela took the hand offered to her and bent low over it.

Celia laughed. "Michaela, you old flirt, don't you look fabulous?" She turned to Trisha. "And Trisha too, I'm so glad you could come, you both look wonderful together." She stood back and pursed her lips. "Let's see, who are you?" Her face lit up. "Vita and Violet, of course! Michaela, you should dress like this more often – you look stunning. And Trisha, what a lovely Violet you make. You do know she was an awfully interesting person. Heavily involved in the art scene when she finally settled in Paris." Celia sighed. "One of the most tempestuous love stories, Violet and Vita."

"Not quite as successful as Gertrude and Alice, however," Michaela said, smiling. "They were devoted to each other."

Celia patted Mandy on the arm. "Another reason for us to choose them today, isn't that right, my dear?"

Mandy laughed. "I don't think anyone would have suited you quite as well as Gertrude Stein, my love."

"Indeed. Amazing woman," Celia said. "Can I have one of those drinks you're dishing out everywhere, darling? Everyone's enjoying them immensely, though I've no doubt that come the end of the afternoon, we'll all be lying in ungainly heaps under the table."

"They're delicious," Trisha ventured. "I love the colour. I don't think I've ever drunk something so green."

"Celia wanted to have abstinthe to drink today," Mandy said. "Can you imagine that?"

Celia laughed. "Totally appropriate, I would have thought, but Mandy vetoed it straight away. These green cocktails do the trick though, don't you think?"

Michaela nodded in agreement. They really did taste good, fresh and somehow green just like they looked. She took another sip and examined their hostess over the edge of the cocktail glass. "How are you Celia?" she asked. "It's been ages since we caught up last."

A brief, haunted look passed over Celia's face, or maybe Michaela imagined it. "Things have been, well, a little strange lately. Are you able to stay after everyone else has gone? I wouldn't mind talking to you about it, actually. Or rather, Mandy has persuaded me of the necessity of it."

Mandy broke in. "It might be a better idea to ask the girls back tomorrow, Celia dear."

Celia frowned. "Of course. Then you can simply get on with enjoying yourselves. We'll all be far too tired after the party to talk sensibly, thank you Mandy." She looked from Michaela to Trisha and back again. "Would you be able to come around tomorrow, for lunch perhaps?"

Michaela answered without consulting Trisha. "We can do that, Celia, of course. We'd be glad to help, if it's at all possible."

Celia nodded. "That's a relief then," she said. "In the meantime, please, enjoy yourself, there's food and drink and soon there will be music too, I think." She looked askance at Mandy.

"The musicians are due here at four," Mandy confirmed.

Trisha looked surprised. "Live music?"

Celia gave one of her trademark wide smiles. "A jazz trio, to match our fancy get ups." She took Trisha's hand and hooked it through her arm. "Michaela, I'm going to steal your lover away and introduce her to everybody."

Michaela looked after them and couldn't help but laugh at the alarmed look on poor Trisha's face.

"She'll be all right," Mandy said, patting Michaela's arm. "Celia's taken a bit of a fancy to her. She always is a sucker for a pretty accent." Mandy laughed.

Michaela sipped her drink again. "Trisha was a little worried about coming here," she said. "After last time when Celia and I got carried away talking about books. Trish said she didn't like sitting there feeling stupid."

"I can imagine what it was like for the poor girl. When Celia gets going there's just no stopping her," said Mandy. "But just about everyone's here; there will be plenty of people Trisha can talk to."  She watched the two women get swallowed up on the now crowded verandah then looked back to Michaela. "Thank you for agreeing to come back tomorrow. It took a lot for Celia to ask you to. She doesn't want to admit anything is wrong, of course."

Michaela looked at Mandy and noticed again just how tired and strained the woman was underneath her cheery demeanour. "You know I'd do anything to help, Mandy. Not just for Celia, but for you too. You've always been so good to me."

Mandy pinkened. "Ah shush," she said. "You know what it's like; we're all a bit of a family. Have to stick together."

A giggling posse of women tumbled inside and headed for the drinks trolley. Mandy turned and embraced Michaela again. "You go and enjoy yourself, you hear? I'd better get back to my hostess duties and make sure the food gets put out sooner rather than later. These drinks are hardly lime cordial."

Michaela kissed the motherly woman on the cheek. "All right then," she said. "And if we don't get to speak to each other properly again, I'll see you tomorrow, all right?"

 

It was getting dark, the sun sinking gracefully towards the horizon, spreading her red and orange skirts around her as she settled. Trisha leaned heavily on Michaela as they made their way down the path to the car. The evening rang with birds serenading the setting sun and the ringing laughter and voices of women calling their good byes to each other.

"That was some party," said Trisha, trying not to stumble in her heels. "I can't believe I actually managed to dance in these things."

Michaela laughed and propped Trisha up against the car as she unlocked and opened the door for her. "You had a great time, I think," she said.

Trisha smiled up at Michaela and flung her arms around Michaela's neck. "I did actually," she said and gave Michaela a smacking kiss on the lips. "I'm glad you persuaded me to come. I've never seen so many yummy women in one place."

Michaela leaned against her warm body. "Any you, my love, were the most delectable one there."

Trisha gazed up at her. "Delectable," she said. "I don't know what that means but it sounds delicious."

Michaela laughed. "Silly thing. It means delicious. Now get in the car so we can go home and I can have a real taste of all your delectable, delicious bits." 

Filed under: Writing Journal

Remnant – AKA Two Girls and a Darling Horse

Sometimes, it really is a good idea to let others do the talking! Here's another fabulous review, this one for my novel REMNANT and written by the terrific writer Baxter Clare Trautman – if you haven't read her novel THE RIVER WITHIN yet, go and have a peek at it, then do the sensible thing and download it to read. She's a terrifically talented writer and I'm incredibly lucky to count her as a fan of my own work.

But I'm just going to hush up now and go do the happy dance while you read the review:

I once dubbed Kate Genet 'the lesbian Stephen King' then recanted the statement in favor of calling her 'the lesbian Nancy Drew'. After reading Remnant I realize my first proclamation was premature but nonetheless accurate.

 

"Remnant has all the elements of a good, old-fashioned horror story: the tingly 'Oh !@#$ what's going on' feeling; the sickening drop when you realize what's going on, then the subsequent wavering between hope and despair of surviving this very bad thing.

 

In Remnant, the very bad thing is that one morning Cass wakes up and her boyfriend's gone. (I just heard a collective groan from half the lesbians reading this. Hold on. Stick with me. I had to trust Ms. Genet and so will you. I promise it will be worth it). So the boyfriend is gone, all his family, and the chickens too. Other than the native birds singing merrily in the bush, there doesn't appear to be another living creature around but for a darling horse named Esmerelda. As she searches vainly for other humans, Cass gradually realizes that not only is everyone vanished but the land seems to be quickly reclaiming the evidence of human existence. Cities disappear in volcanic upheavals. Homes, stores and streets are engulfed by the encroaching vegetation. Cass and Esmerelda appear indeed to be remnants of a suddenly lost civilization. Just as Cass starts – oh, but wait. I can't say more without giving away the fine suspense of the novel. You'll have to read it yourself to find out if Cass is the only human left on earth, or at least in New Zealand.

 

There were enough twists and turns in Remnant to keep me up late two nights in a row. I get up fiendishly early so rarely stay up late with a book but Remnant was just too fun to put down. Reading it felt like being at a slumber party with your best girlfriends, you know, that magic time after you've all gone to bed but are too wired to sleep, so you tell ghost stories until someone gets too scared and makes everybody stop. Then you tease that poor girl for being a baby but you're secretly relieved.

 

Remnant is only available as an e-book, but Genet is all the incentive you should need to pop seventy-nine bucks for a Kindle. I was lucky enough to discover her on Smashwords when her writing was free but Genet is still a bargain with her works priced at $4.99 or less.

 

Genet's brand of horror is not without humor and tenderness, so don't be put off if you're not much of a horror fan. And I'm not even sure if horror is the correct genre. Maybe call it futuristic sci-fi and leave it at that? Whatever the genre, Remnant doesn't disappoint. It's a quick, fun, spooky read. Enjoy!"

 

Thanks Baxter!

REMNANT is available on Amazon and Smashwords and of course, B&N and other places. I hope you'll give it a go.

Filed under: Writing Journal

Orange Moon – mainstream lesbian fiction

One thing I'm aware of is that for a few of my books – and I'm thinking specifically of REMNANT and ORANGE MOON, the blurb doesn't really let you readers know that these are stories with strong, satisfying lesbian content. Because they're not lesbian romances, or indeed, easily categorised as lesbian anything (in fact they're just hard to categorise at all) a lot of you might wander over to have a look at them only to pass because, well, they just don't sound like lesbian stories. 

The trouble with writing blurbs for my books is that I don't want to give away too much of the storyline, because they contain a lot of suspense, and this is broken if I go ahead and tell you all about it in the blurb. I'm thinking at the moment that there must be a way I can get around this, with a bit of nifty copywriting and a bit of that ol' two step nimbleness, but right at the moment, I just thought I'd chat about it for a moment.

The fact is, all my novels, and the majority of my short stories, contain lesbian content. Both in REMNANT and ORANGE MOON, the relationships that blossom further into the storyline are f/f relationships. I made a conscious decision when I started writing seriously, to write lesbian fiction, though probably not fiction you could describe as romance. I haven't regretted this decision for a moment, even if it means a smaller market for my work, because when I write lesbian fiction, I'm writing what is comfortable and authentic for me, and I'd like to think this shows through.

Anyway, enough of my rambling on the matter. Here's a wonderful review of ORANGE MOON from fellow writer Gabriella West (who, I've just noticed has another book out and which I'm going to wander along to buy when I've finished this), which not only makes me want to do the happy dance whenever I read it, but proves my point that despite the horror story blurb, this is indeed, still a work of lesbian fiction:

"As the story opens, Alice is a battered and numb young woman, worn down by routine physical and psychological abuse from her husband Richard, overwhelmed by stress, pain and fear. An encounter with a "crazy lady" on the bus on the way home from a shopping trip brings up dark memories for Alice.

The fascinating thing about this novel is that it's both the suspenseful story of a woman escaping an intimate abuser, and a woman coming to terms with her past memories of teenage sexuality, paranormal and violent events, some of which she may have been more responsible for than she thinks.

Alice makes the fateful choice to "leave" her marriage but stay in her much-loved house, cleverly hidden from Richard (she assumes). This sets up an almost unbearable tension in the novel.

While a final confrontation with Richard seems both ugly and inevitable, a healing and beautiful relationship also develops for Alice.

Unlike the rote and clichéd lesbian sex scenes in much American writing, in both of the recent novels I've read by Genet (Remnant being the other), the love scenes between women are fresh and real, shimmering with possibility…

But I found Orange Moon to be more to my taste than Remnant. Readers of paranormal books will love the ghostly element, the mystery. I personally found the scenes of domestic abuse far more creepy and compelling. I loved watching a woman coming to terms with her own strength. This book is a contemporary feminist classic that reminded me of long-forgotten books from the 1970s like Lois Gould's A Sea Change. You won't be able to put it down."

Thanks Gabriella, and thanks too, to the rest of you who are willing to pick up one of my books and give it a go.

Orange Moon is available on Kindle and Smashwords for $4.99

And while we're here – I'd love it if you could tell me what you look for when you read a book blurb or description – how much information are you after, and specifically, what sort? Do you want it made absolutely clear that you're looking at lesfic? Thanks!

Filed under: Writing Journal

Sweet Charlotte – the new Michaela and Trisha Novel

I was asked several times during the year if I was going to write a sequel to Silent Light and Shadows Fall, and for quite a long time I thought I probably wouldn't , because there were so many other story ideas crowding around in my mind that I didn't feel much like revisiting characters I'd already written about.

When I sat down to write a short story about Michaela and Trisha for another project, however, things really ran away on me. It turned out those girls weren't happy about being in a short story – they wanted to dive back in and have a whole 60 000 word novel written about their latest adventure.

And so Sweet Charlotte came to be. By accident. Written in a little over a month of furious, feverish writing. I usually only write about 2000 words a day, four – six days a week, but this time, I really knuckled down and got more words on the page more often than I've ever managed before.

Sweet Charlotte puts our favourite girls Michaela and Trisha smack bang in the middle of another paranormal mystery. As Trisha says in the book to Michaela – "Do you attract this weird shit like a magnet or what?" It does seem like it. The world is a much stranger place than we ordinarily realise and you all know Michaela, she can't turn her back on a good mystery. Caro was determined to be in this book too, of course – she's just as fascinated by the supernatural as Michaela is. Only Trisha has her doubts about the wisdom of getting involved in things you don't necessarily understand. Not that that is how she'd put it, of course. You all can imagine how she'd phrase that one.

I haven't written the blurb for the book yet; in fact the novel isn't even back from the editor as I'm writing this, but I'd like to think I haven't written something totally crappy, so I'm going to talk about it anyway. When a dear friend of Michaela's holds a seance as part of her research for a book she's writing, things don't go quite as planned. It's not the spirit of her grandmother that comes through, but something or someone else. That should have been the end of it, but you know things are never that simple. Finally, in desperation, Michaela and Trisha are asked to help unravel the mysterious events that the seance seemed to cause. Michaela won't turn her back on a friend in need but Trisha thinks they would both be seriously crazy to get involved. Trisha's even more worried when her sister Caro is determined to play paranormal investigator right alongside Michaela. Drawn into a dangerous web of madness that claws at them from beyond the grave, can the girls find the strength and courage to do battle? Thrown in the deep end, Trisha especially has to decide whether her faith in herself and her love is enough to save them all.

So that's the gist of it anyway. I'll be aiming for a release date of the 20th of December, which should be do-able. I'll be putting the book up for sale at $2.99 on Smashwords and Amazon.

I'll also have 10 review copies to give away, if any of you are interested. A free copy of Sweet Charlotte in exchange for a review on Amazon. I don't expect lengthy, academic reviews, just a few lines saying how you felt about the book. I know some of you will want to buy the book and leave a review anyway, and that's terrific. If you'd like to receive one of the free copies however, email me at kate.genet@gmail.com with 'Sweet Charlotte' in the subject line and if you're one of the first ten, I'll let you know and put your name down to receive a coupon for a free copy on publication day.

Meanwhile, I'd best get to work – I've a lot to do before the 20th!

Filed under: Book Reviews

Blogging Conundrums

Hi everyone,

I haven't been posting much here lately. I've been busy of course, but that's not really what's been holding me back. The real truth is that I just don't know what to do with this blog. This whole blog thing is a bit intimidating for me.

I've been keeping journals/diaries since I was twelve (argh, my whole life is written down in them; that's scary) and while I'm perfectly happy to waffle away in them, I'm really fussy about the actual books I write in. If it's too fancy or pretty I don't want to mark it with my untidy handwriting and my often just as untidy thoughts. That's something of the way I feel about this blog.

I had the idea a while ago of keeping a sort of 'writer's notebook' at a different blog address; this would be something I could just sit down to each day or so and write a little bit – about my day, how the writing had gone, what surprising thing one of the characters had come up with and just generally how I felt about this weird and wonderful job of writing. I thought I'd do it somewhere other than here because when I think about this blog it feels like everything has to be big and impressive and well, thought out and considered. Of course, I like writing things like that and I'd continue to post here but on top of everything else it gets to seeming like a bit of a chore and I'd prefer something more relaxed so that I can blog more often. I'll probably do my 'writer's notebook' posts here but at the moment it feels like this is one of those fancy journals I don't want to mess up.

I don't want to write a blog for writers. There are so many really good ones of those out there already. I want to write for my readers, but the thing is, I don't really know what you all want to hear about from me – if anything!

So this is the main reason why I haven't been around much. I want to change this, I'm just trying to figure out the direction I want to go in. Suggestions are welcome

Having said all that, I will be posting again tomorrow announcing the forthcoming Michaela and Trisha book "SWEET CHARLOTTE". I look forward to talking to you all about it!

Filed under: Writing Journal

Two Raps from the Poltergeist for Yes, Orange Moon is Out!

You all know I like to write stories with strong characters, difficult situations, intriguing relationships and well, spooky stuff.

My fascination with the spooky stuff goes way back. In fact, apart from the ages of 0-6 or so, when from what I can remember I was mostly fond of my family and various kittens, the spooky stuff has fascinated me no end.

Although, since then, I've had some rather interestingly spooky experiences, I've not come across any poltergeists. The closest I came to that was when I was in my late teens and flatting with a couple university friends. For a period of a few weeks, I was woken night after night to the sound of doors slamming, often one after another through the house. I associated this with one of the guys who had recently moved into the house and as it turned out, it all stopped when he moved out again a short time later.

It was hardly what you could call poltergeist activity, however, because I – bother it all- was the only one who ever heard it.

Poltergeist activity was for a while acceptably explained away by a great many investigators as being some sort of psychokinetic effect, engendered by a member of the household who is suffering psychological or emotional stress and who feels unable to express themselves  – often a teenager.

There are a lot of people however, who feel that this answer is too neat and leaves too much unexplained. There is no doubt that in each case of poltergeist activity, one or more person acts as a focus, and the other theory of this sort of activity is that this focus person is 'leaking' strong amounts of energy, which attracts bored and lowly spirits like a magnet, and these spirits commence to have a bit of fun with this energy, wreaking all sorts of havoc.

So, two possible explanations, but still one interesting phenomenon. My mother claimed to have spent a few months as a thirteen year old suffering from mild poltergeist activity, usually in the form of her bed shaking and moving. Like I said, teenagers are often the focus of this sort of activity.

Anyway, that's just a hint of the 'spooky stuff' in my new novel Orange Moon, which  is finally, after several unexpected delays, out and available. It definitely comes under the heading of stories with strong protagonists (even if the poor girl is awfully frightened), difficult situations (a couple of them, actually), intriguing relationships (I'm pretty sure you'll love this latest lesbian couple of mine) and well of course, the spooky stuff. Here's the blurb:

Alice Hughes lies on her bedroom floor, beaten and bleeding. Mostly though, she's afraid. Afraid that the next time her husband hits her, he won't stop until she's dead.

She has to get away. But where can she go? She needs somewhere to hide…

When Alice finds the perfect hiding place, the one place her husband would never dream of looking for her, she thinks all her prayers have been answered. Here she can rest, recover, and when she's stronger, she can make plans.

But what Alice doesn't know, is that no hiding place is completely safe, and sometimes your worst enemies aren't the ones you thought they were; after all, there's no hiding from yourself…

 

If you enjoyed any of Silent Light, Shadows Fall and Remnant, you'll find yourself wrapped up in this one too. You can buy it on Amazon or Smashwords, and while you're busy reading that one, I'll poddle off to work on getting the third Michaela and Trisha mystery 'Sweet Charlotte' ready for release before Christmas.

Oh, just a quick note while you're here: I've decided to charge for all my stories. You've probably downloaded them all by now if you're reading this, but I was buying a couple books the other day and feeling good about supporting other writers in the way I know they love best when it occurred to me how ridiculous it was to believe so strongly in buying the work of my favourite writers, yet to not be making any money from my own. Especially since, as much as I love writing, I can't afford to do it for love.

I hope you'll understand, and continue to support me.

Filed under: Writing Journal

Orange Moon is Rising

Well, I have been incredibly busy the last few weeks. I've been working on my writing and working on fixing up my house to sell as well. Right at the moment I have a pretty white fringe from painting the bathroom – and myself.

I have also finished the new Michaela and Trisha book. At the moment it has a working title of 'Sweet Charlotte', which really doesn't give you any idea what it's about, does it? I guess you will just have to wait and read it – I'll be trying to get it out in December.

I hadn't actually planned to write 'Sweet Charlotte'. I was working with Mike H. – you'll remember him from the comments section of this blog and the back matter of the Michaela and Trisha books – to bring together some of the humourous and sexy scenes he's written featuring our two favourite gals and thought I'd write a nice and quick short story to complement his scenes. With this in mind I sat down in Early September with nothing more than an idea for the story's setting and thought I'd start writing and see where that led me.

Unfortunately for Mike, whose collection has been put on hold, Michaela and Trisha quickly made me see that they had no wish to be part of a short story and had other ideas about what they wanted to do. A little over a month later the story was finished, coming in at around 60k words, quite a bit longer than 'Shadows Fall. Along with Caro, who turns out to be quite the intrepid sidekick, the girls are drawn into yet another supernatural adventure. As Trisha asks Michaela at one stage, "Do you attract this sort of thing? Like some weird-ass magnet?"

So, 'Sweet Charlotte' should be out in December, and Mike's collection much sooner than that.

Probably my biggest news though is the imminent publication – at long last – of Orange Moon. Yes, it's finally on its way ladies and gents. Next week I hope. Not only that, but I think it's my favourite novel so far. I'll look forward to seeing what you all think of it!

Stay tuned, folks!

Filed under: Orange Moon, Writing Journal [image error]