A.L. Michael's Blog, page 14

GUEST POST: Molly Ann Wishlade’s The Wild, Wild West Series!

I’m excited to present an excerpt from one of Molly Ann Wishlade’s excellent (and saucy!) books today. The third book in her trilogy of deliciously naughty western stories is called Menage. Can you guess what it includes from the title?

Here’s a couple of snippets! Be warned, this is erotica, so if that’s not your thing, that’s fine!

Here are two excerpts from the novella for you to enjoy:

“Hello there! Mrs Holbein?”

Grace peered up from the chicken coop at the approaching cowboys. They dismounted from their horses then walked towards the perimeter fence.

She was knee-high in straw and feathers as she gathered that day’s eggs, depositing them in a basket hooked over her left arm. She wasn’t expecting company and she didn’t recognise the two men. Her survival instinct kicked in, increasing her heart rate, and she quickly reached down and checked her right boot. The cold steel blade sat in its place, encased in the leather sheath, reassuring her with its sharp edge and fierce point.

“Hello?” She raised her voice to intimate that it was a question not a greeting. She straightened her back and wiped the perspiration from her upper lip with the back of her free hand.

The cowboys reached the fence. This close, she could see how big they were. Tall, broad-shouldered men. Large and masculine. They made her acutely aware of how petite and feminine she was.

How utterly defenceless.

She eyed them, her senses on high alert. Being a woman alone at an isolated homestead a few miles outside of Deadwood meant that she was constantly wary. Letting her guard down, even just a fraction, could have been fatal whether dealing with man or beast.

“Mrs Holbein?”

Grace met the blond man’s blue eyes and a shiver ran down her spine. They were as intense as the sky on a clear summer’s day. Beautiful, bright blue framed by thick black lashes. He rested his large, tanned hands on the fence. She found her gaze drawn to his long, slim fingers with their short nails and the tiny white-blond hairs on his muscular forearms which shone in the afternoon sun. This was a man who worked hard for a living. Outdoors. Probably with horses and cattle.

“Are you Mrs Holbein?” He repeated the question.

“That’s me. Whadda you want?” She pulled herself up to her full height. She could see that if she stood next to either man she would not reach his shoulders. As the cowboy searched her face, she let the basket swing in front of her body. An obstacle between them, to hide her figure from view. Protection. A barrier.

“We’re looking for work, ma’am,” the cowboy explained. He pushed his Stetson further back on his head and wiped his brow with a folded neckerchief.

“And what makes you come out here looking for it?” Grace scowled. She nudged an inquisitive chicken away from her skirts with her foot.

“We asked in Deadwood, ma’am. They said you was likely to need some help around your farm. In light of your…” He removed his hat. “Your recent loss.”

So they knew about Jack. That also meant that they knew she was alone and that she had no man to protect her. She took a steadying breath.

Keep calm. Show no fear.

“What’s your names?” She stalled. She had no intention of giving them more information about her circumstances than she needed to. She didn’t have the time for pleasantries. There was no time to waste in the day. No time at all. She was exhausted, run ragged trying to take care of the farm all alone. They had never had any hired help and life had been tough but Jack had insisted that they could do it all themselves. But now that he’d gone, she realised exactly how much he had done.

Around the farm and to her.

She shivered. Her corset grazed the spot below her left shoulder blade that never fully healed and she gritted her teeth together. Damned sensitive female flesh. She was filled with resentment for her own frailty.

“I’m Matt Huntley and this here’s Blake Donohue.” Matt gestured to his companion.

“Howdy, Mrs Holbein.” Blake doffed his hat. Grace swallowed hard. His hair was black and shiny as a raven’s wings and his eyes like pools of whisky. His face was tanned from being outdoors and he had a few days’ growth of stubble. But he was handsome as the devil himself. She shook her head.

A pleasing face did not equal a good heart. As she’d learnt. For the past five years.

****

She moved towards them. Brought their hands to her lips. Pressed her mouth to their fingers in turn. Both of them. At the same time. Leaving neither man out. Their skin smelt of pine and masculine warmth. She breathed it in, licking her lips as it fired her desire.

Matt gasped and she met his eyes. They were dark. His own lips slightly parted.

She glanced at Blake. His eyes echoed the need in Matt’s. What was happening here?

This wasn’t possible. She had dreamt of this even though she had denied it upon waking with her hands between her legs and her body coated in perspiration. Being loved by them both simultaneously.

She took a step closer to Matt and he lowered his head. He pressed his mouth to hers. He kissed her. Gently. Slowly. She leaned into him, feeling his body all along the front of her own. He was so hard, so strong, so desirable.

She forced herself to pull away then moved towards Blake. He wrapped his strong arms around her and returned her kiss. His mouth was firmer, more insistent. He pressed his tongue between her lips and delved into her mouth. She sighed and ran her own tongue over his. Tasting. Touching. Wanting.

He pulled her closer and she felt his erection against her belly. He was hard. He wanted her. She wanted him. But what about Matt?

She pulled away from Blake’s kisses and glanced at the other cowboy. He stepped closer and kissed her again while she was still in Blake’s arms.

So they were okay with this? They both wanted her? Like this? Her stomach flipped with excitement. How would this work?

Matt moved behind her and lifted her wet hair. He kissed the back of her neck and she shivered with delight. He kissed and nibbled her ears lobes and tickled them with his hot breath. So gentle. So new. She took Blake’s face in her hands and caressed his cheeks, his jaw, the tight cords which stood out in his thick neck.

As Matt ran his hands up and down her sides, nibbling and kissing her neck, Blake kissed her mouth, her throat, the tops of her breasts which rose and fell rapidly above her dress.

Then they began to undress her.

They gently stripped away her clothing. Pulled off her boots and stockings and unlaced her corset. All the while, still kissing and caressing her so that every inch of her body was aflame.

When she stood in just her shift before them, they quickly peeled off their own clothes.

Grace trembled. Being exposed in the past had heralded the advent of pain and fear. Agony that sometimes lasted the whole night through. If Matt and Blake had hidden their true selves from her and they were about to hurt her, then she would die in their arms. She would want to. Because finding out that they were not the good, kind men that she had fallen for would break her heart. And if that happened, then death would be a welcome escape.

She gazed at Blake. Naked, he was even easier on the eye than he was fully clothed. He was strong, muscular, firm. His body was hard and defined from his broad shoulders to his strong wide thighs. The ebony hair of his head was echoed across his chest in a light dusting and a line of hair ran from his chest down to his navel then to the patch of dark curls at his groin. From amidst them jutted his thick, erect cock. It stuck out from his body, dusky pink with dark, raised veins and a bead of moisture like a diamond at its quivering tip.

Rather than filling her with fear or revulsion, as Jack’s member had, Blake’s filled her with need. It was an extension of this gentle and desirable man. A part of him and what he had to offer. And she wanted it. Wanted him. Inside her.

A nudging at her back made her turn to Matt. He was as gorgeous as Blake. His skin as bronzed down to his waist then white where his flesh had not been exposed to the sun. His chest was hairless but at his groin, the curls were as golden blond as her own. His impressive erection stood to attention, as thick and hard as Blake’s.

They both wanted her. She hugged herself tight inside.

Matt pulled her into his arms and laid her down on the bed facing him. He kissed her softly at first but his kisses grew harder as he pulled her body against his own. His cock nudged at the front of her shift, pushing the thin material between her legs. All of her inhibitions drifted away as she gave in to the need and longing that pulsed through her core.

She had denied herself so much for what felt like a lifetime. Been afraid and numb for an eternity. But finally, she was free. Finally, she was beginning to open up, to surrender to what she wanted.

Behind her, Blake had begun to edge her shift up her legs. He kissed each patch of newly revealed skin. He got to her bottom and kissed the cheeks. It tickled and Grace wriggled on the bed, causing Matt to grind into her even harder. His cock slipped through the folds of her shift and between the wet folds of her sex, sliding around in her damp heat. She groaned, desperate to feel him pushing into her further so that he entered her body completely.

Her shift was up to her lower back now. And still Blake kissed her.

In front of her, Matt also lifted the material, exposing her pussy, her belly, her pert little breasts with their hard fuchsia nubs. Matt moved down her body and began to suckle her nipples, pulling them into his mouth in turn until she panted with need. All the times that Jack had taken her, he’d never stirred her like this. His hands on her breasts had been cruel and he had made her flesh crawl. Matt’s caresses made her want to scream with need.

At the same time he ran a hand down between her legs, pushing between her wet silken lips and rubbing at her swollen bud. She moved with his knowing hand, up and down, round and round. She pulled his head closer to her breasts, losing herself in pleasure.

BUY LINKS:

AMAZON.COM

AMAZON UK

All Romance Ebooks

Molly’s Links:

Blog: http://misswishlade.wordpress.com

Twitter: https://twitter.com/MissWishlade

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/mollyann.wishlade

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/user/show/19556829-molly-wishlade

Total-E-Bound Blogspot on 12th of every month: http://totalebound.blogspot.co.uk/

Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/misswishlade/

What To Do When Your Characters Drink Too Much, (and other tales of character creation)

So, that moment when you’re first getting your edits back from your publisher is pretty nerve-wracking. Not just wondering about whether or not they’re disappointed, or what you missed out, but whether you will have to cut and change and lose great big chunks of your work, and by extension, yourself.

It’s scary. But when my edits came back from my wonderful editor, everything made so much sense, it was like a lightbulb moment- YES! That needed more work, add a scene here, yes yes yes. The only problem?

‘The characters seem to be drinking wine all the time- perhaps some times they could deal with their trauma by eating cake?’

I’m paraphrasing, but that was pretty much the gist. And I froze. Because that did keep happening. Was I encouraging young people to drink away their problems? That wasn’t what I did. But if you make your characters do something, you’re pretty much saying that’s okay, that’s ‘normal’. But somehow, you’re telling everyone that this is how you should deal with an issue. I often make the comment that I need a stiff drink, but rarely do.

But cake? Eating cake isn’t quite as dramatic an image as mainlining tequila, but sure, eating your feelings is a thing. But then, do I want to say that that’s okay? Difficult, suddenly playing God with people. Characters symbolise things. One person symbolises ALL people.

Writers have responsibilities, which is a fairly grandiose thing to deal with when you’re writing chick lit. My characters still drink, they get hungover and pay their penance. In many ways, drinking was a chance for them to be silly together, to break down barriers and take chances they’d never be strong enough to take whilst sober. But I didn’t want to write about a group of alcoholics who spend all their time drinking expensive cocktails. That said, I didn’t really want to write about a bunch of people having important conversations whilst wearing bowling shoes.

So what to do? Well, I did cut out some drinking scenes (although a few people have still mentioned the amount of drinking, so I guess I’m a bit of a lush) and I made Tabby a ‘busy’ worrier, so she dealt with stress by cleaning, cooking, doing anything she could to keep busy, until eventually she talked about it (which, as we all know, is the healthy thing to do!). Plus she went running, which I find to be a pretty decent way to blow off steam.

But it made me think how drinking is so very part of British culture, and The Last Word is a very British book. And all of these types of drinking have different styles and points- an expensive cocktail in Covent Garden is not the same as a pint in an old man pub. Shots in a club are not the same as sharing a bottle at home on a Friday night.

Learning to Deal with Bad Reviews

Everyone has their own way of coping. In Sarra Manning’s Guitar Girl (my own YA bible in my youth) the rockstar Ruby X used bad reviews to line her cat’s litter tray. Reviews are a strange thing. On one hand, they can give you the warm and fuzzies, where you float around all day feeling very smug, like you’ve done something wonderful. Which is silly, because it’s a review on something you created a year ago, and you should really just get on with doing something new. One of my favourite positive reviews was from a woman who was reading my book whilst waiting for her smear test, and said if it could make her laugh whilst waiting for that, I’d clearly done a good job. Okay, so it’s not quite changing someone’s life, but I distracted someone whilst they were nervous. And that’s nice.

But once the first flurry of lovely reviews come in, eventually the bad ones surface. So far, they haven’t been too bad. I had a couple of comments about the characters being one-dimensional, and well, that happens. For me, I made these people, I know their lives and backstories and what makes them laugh and cry, so they seem very real. They called it a light, frothy read, and that’s fair, because that’s what I was aiming for. If anything, I read those ‘meh’ reviews and sighed a sigh of relief, because no-one’s called me derivative or a waste of space or anything mean. Yet.

Not everything is for everyone. I wrote a fluffy romance story with too much drinking and a fair bit of sarcasm. I could criticise my own work until I was blue in the face, but at the end of the day you have to accept that there are quite a few possibilities: it was marketed so these people thought they would like it, it wasn’t very good, or maybe they just didn’t like it. And that’s okay. There are books I’ve recommended to friends, and they’ve hated them as much as I’ve adored them, and I just haven’t understood it. Some things grate for no reason. Some days you can’t get into it, sometimes it just doesn’t grab you.

This is not about value of your work. It’s not about value at all. It’s about feeling. They felt this, and you felt that. And that’s fine. Someone hating your work doesn’t make it shit, and someone loving it doesn’t make it gold. The point is that you made something, and the minute it’s out there, it’s up for judgement. People often compare writing a book to having a baby (painful, exhilarating, sudden responsibility) but the truth is that most people won’t say to your face that your child is terribly ugly and you probably shouldn’t have bothered conceiving him. But people will say that about the book. The closest you can come to dealing with all this is being proud you finished something, proud that people have bought it, and proud that you can carry on writing, regardless of reviewers and the voices in the dark corners of the interwebs. If you’re going to be a writer, be a writer, whether you write shit or gold, just write.

Top Five Things Authors Do Wrong When Marketing Their Books

It’s taken me a while to get the hang of this marketing business. I’ve always hated it. I can spend hours working on the right wording of a press release, but if someone asks me in person what my book’s about, it’s all ‘oh, nothing, it’s rubbish, chick-lit, nothing that will change your life.’

I am not the only one who does this. So I thought I’d highlight the top five things authors should not be doing.

1) Missing out on the chance to talk about their work/belittling their work.

This is your creation, man! Own it! You made it happen, be proud of it. Sure, it might not be Moby Dick, but that’s fine. Being able to say, authentically, ‘yeah, I’ve written a book actually, it’s about THIS and is released ON THIS DATE’. People talk about their jobs all the time. The only difference is this person might become a customer.

2) The opposite: DO NOT TALK ABOUT YOUR BOOK ALL THE TIME

I know what I said, but be aware. You’re a writer, you’re meant to take in situations and people and understand them. Trying to tell a stranger at Auntie Mavis’ funeral that you’ve written a book about alien ducks from the planet quack is not going to fly. ‘But,’ you say, ‘I have to take my chance, they’re an agent/publisher/journalist/someone useful to me.’ You can talk to people as people, in REAL conversations, where you ask them what they do. Your friends are probably tired of hearing about that line in chapter four that was really good too.

3) Drop the air of desperation

This is linked to the second one. I’ve had people turn up, hear what I do, then suddenly ask me to read their manuscript, hear their pitch, give them a job, help them make a business plan. They don’t let you talk, because they’re not conversing, they’re scanning your words for things that are useful to them. And there’s nothing less attractive than such desperation.



4) Not Using Social Media



There’s a whole world out there! I’d never really liked Twitter until I used it as a writing marketing tool. You can meet other writers, reviewers, readers, and each have their own lovely communities, who are supportive and lovely. You can get access to information, and you can be pretty blatant about self promotion without anyone judging you.

5) Being aware of their audience

Okay, so maybe fifty-five year old male mechanics from Wandsworth are going to read your chick-lit about a bunch of 25 year olds. They’re completely welcome. But you should be focusing your limited time and effort (and money) marketing towards the people who you KNOW like your book, the people you wrote it for. Ask for reviews, find people who read similar things, identify other authors who are writing about the same thing or in the same style. In the marketing world, there’s a reason the ‘X meets X’ system works (E.G It’s like ‘When Harry Met Sally’ meets ‘War of the Worlds’). Use that until you’ve written enough to be ‘from the author who brought you….’

You have to create and reinforce your own brand and that comes from knowing yourself and knowing your audience.

If you feel like you want a bit more help with this, I’m working with creative business specialist Steven Sparling to run a two day Marketing Bootcamp for Writers. We’ll be giving you insider advice, creating a plan, give you the chance to meet a publisher and do a pitch, as well as Q and As. We’ll create a marketing timeline for you, guide you on audience recognition, branding, press releases, social media and everything you need to boost your sales! Plus there’s swanky lunch included! More details and to book, click HERE

Without You To Hold- Christmas Novel Update!

So, incase I haven’t harped on about this enough, Carina UK asked me to write them a Christmas Novel to be released in November. Originally, I was stumped. My mum had watched enough crappy Christmas movies on the ‘christmas movie channel’ this year for me to know what had to be involved, but how do you do it without tinsel covered cliches?

Well, I focused on food and booze (because, duh, Christmas) and just focused on the idea that whatever is normally pretty dramatic and difficult, at Christmas time it’s multiplied by a hundred.

So the book is called Without You to Hold, and yes, there’s a lot of Elvis references! I’m currently editing it before sending it off, but if you want to get a taste for it, you can check out my Pinterest Inspiration board here.

 

And here’s the blurb!

Megan McAllister hasn’t been back home since getting pregnant at 17, and getting the hell out of dodge. Now she’s back, ten years later for Christmas, along with her daughter Skye. Reconnecting with her parents is going to be difficult enough, but when her childhood sweetheart turns out to be still living in town and looking for answers, everything gets a little more complicated!

 
In the meantime, don’t forget you can get hold of The Last Word on Amazon, Nook, Kobo, Sainsburys and many more! 

 

Tagged: carina, christmas book, london, writing

What a fictional character can teach you about being a creative entrepreneur.

 

In my latest novel, my main character, Tabitha Riley, is a terrible example of what it takes to survive as a writer. She lost her job at a main newspaper following an injunction issue, and tries to make ends meet as a freelancer.

 

Is it possible to survive as a freelancer? Sure, with lots of hard work. You have to be out there promoting yourself, making contacts, writing non-stop, taking contracts. And even then you usually have to have another job. Perhaps, if you’ve been working at a major newspaper, you’ll get some regular magazine work, but those cheques aren’t particularly inspiring. 

 

So Tabby relies on her mother, as a twenty-six year old writer. I’m not saying you shouldn’t accept help, a lot of us do, but when you depend on a parental figure for your ‘allowance’, you never quite get the independence that freelancing embodies.

 

But what does Tabby do right?

 

-She knows what she’s worth, and when given an opportunity, refuses to work for nothing. Interning can be powerful if you want to learn a new skill, or get the inside scoop on a market you’re interested in cornering. Working for free doing what you’ve been doing for years? No way.

 

-She knows where her value lies- her audience. Tabby writes a ridiculously popular blog called ‘Miss Twisted Thinks’ where she rants about things. For some reason, this becomes a hit, and a newspaper wants to give her a column. She knows, and the paper knows, that it’s her reach that they’re interested in gaining. Don’t be precious about why people want you, the point is that they do.

 

 

She uses social media to create relationships. It’s easy to follow people and never interact with them. It’s easy to feel out of the loop- but twitter allows for those one off ‘favourites’ and comments that you’d feel awkward giving in real life. Bugging your friends on facebook to like your page is a standard way to interact. Remember what Forster said: ‘only connect’.

 

If you want to hear more from Tabby, here’s my novel The Last Word

Or if you’re still not sure, you can read some reviews here

 

@almichael

 

www.almichael.com

 
Tagged: amwriting, chicklit, creative business, creative entrepreneurship, getting published, novel, surviving as a writer, the last word, womens fiction, writing

Release Day: The BookShop On the Corner by Rebecca Raisin

The Bookshop on the Corner

Release day!

 

Who said that only real heroes could be found in fiction?

Sarah Smith had an addiction – she was addicted to romance novels. The meet-cute, the passion, the drama and the gorgeous men! Now this wouldn’t have been such an issue if she hadn’t been the owner of the only bookshop in Ashford, Connecticut.

Ever since her close friend Lil, from The Gingerbread Café, had become engaged she had been yearning for a little love to turn up in her life. Except Sarah knew a good man was hard to find – especially in a tiny town like Ashford. That was until New York journalist, Ridge Warner stepped into her bookshop…

Love could be just around the corner for Sarah, but will she be able to truly believe that happy-ever-after can happen in real-life too!

 

Praise from Mia March, author of The Meryl Streep Movie Club, and Finding Colin Firth.

“How I wish this magical little bookshop was around the corner from my house! Brimming with heart, hope, and wisdom, THE BOOKSHOP ON THE CORNER is a wonderful novel about love, life, friendship, romance, books galore, and finding that happy ending.” --Mia March.

 

Excerpt

Chapter One

Snuggled in the cozy bay window of the bookshop, I looked up from my novel as the first golden rays of sunshine brightened the sky. Resting my head against the cool glass, I watched the light spill, as though it had leaked, like the yellows of a watercolor painting. Almost dawn, it would soon be time to switch on, and get organized for another day at The Bookshop on the Corner.

Every day I arrived at work a few hours prior to opening to read in the quiet, before customers would trickle in. I loved these magical mornings, time stolen from slumber, where I’d curl up with a book and get lost inside someone else’s world before dog-earing the page and getting lost in mine. Sure, I could have stayed in bed at home and read, but the bookshop had a dream-like quality about it before dawn that was hard to resist.

I turned back to the inside of the shop to watch shards of muted sunlight settle on piles of books, as if it were slowly waking them. The haphazard stacks seemed straighter, as if they’d decided when I wasn’t looking to neaten themselves up, dust their jackets off, and stand to attention. Maybe a customer would stumble across one of them today, run a hand lovingly across their covers, before selecting a book that caught their attention. Though my theory was books chose us, and not the other way around.

The bookshop was silent, bar a faint hum — were the books muttering to each other about what today would bring? Smiling to myself, I went back to my novel, promising myself just one more chapter.

When I looked up again the sun was high in the sky, and I’d read a much bigger chunk than I’d meant to. Some stories consumed you, they made time stop, your worries float into the ether, and when it came to my reading habits I chose romance over any other genre. The appeal of the happy ever after, the winsome heroine being adored for who she was, and the devastatingly handsome hero with more to him than met the eye tugged at my heart. And I’d read about them all: from dashing dukes, to cocksure cowboys, I never met one I didn’t fall for.

The sounds of the street coming alive filtered in, roller shutters retreating upwards, cheery shop owners whistling as they swept their front stoops. Lil, the owner of the Gingerbread Café across the road, arrived, hand in hand with her fiancé, Damon. They stood on the pavement in front of her café, and kissed goodbye, spending an age whispering and canoodling.

I tried to focus on my book, but couldn’t help darting a glance their way every now and then. Each morning they embraced almost as though they’d never see each other again, yet they worked only a few short steps away. It was as if they were magnetically drawn to each other; one step backwards would draw the other person forwards. I bet they couldn’t hear the sound of shops opening or cars tooting hello. They had their own kind of sweet music that swirled around them as if they were in some kind of love bubble.

Feeling as though I was intruding on a private moment, I swiveled away from the window and padded bare foot down to the back of the bookshop to make more coffee. My feet found the familiar groove in the wood; the path was so well trodden it was bowed. The feel of the polished oak underfoot with its labyrinth-type trails exposed around stacks of books was comforting. It’d weathered traffic for so long it was indelibly changed by it.

Taking the pot of coffee to the counter, I poured a cup, and sipped gingerly. Lately, I’d felt a little as though I was at a crossroads. You know that frustrating feeling of losing the page in your book? You didn’t want to go too far forward and spoil the surprise, and you didn’t want to go too far back, so you kind of stagnated and started from a page that didn’t seem quite right, but you read it a few times just to convince yourself…that was how I felt about my life. A little lost, I guess you could say.

Ashford was buzzing with good news recently, love affairs, weddings, babies, but I was still the same old Sarah, nose pressed in a book, living out fictional relationships as if they were my own. I was waiting for something to find me. But what if that something never came?

What did heroines do when they felt like that? Broaden their horizons? I imagined myself swapping Ashford for Paris, because of the bookshops and the rich literary history. But really, I’d never ventured far from my small town, and probably never would. My bookshop was a living, breathing thing to me, and there was no one to look after it even if I did want to do something spontaneous. Should I take up a hobby? I’d be the girl stuck line dancing with the octogenarian. Instead of dreaming of the impossible, I set about opening the shop, and shelved that line of thought for another time.

 

Find The Bookshop on the Corner here:

US Amazon http://amzn.to/1jMmIWA
UK Amazon http://amzn.to/1lGBvED
AUST Amazon http://bit.ly/1fTDwWW

iTunes https://itunes.apple.com/au/book/bookshop-on-corner-gingerbread/id850630026?mt=11

Kobo http://goo.gl/PjVtr1

Pinterest http://www.pinterest.com/rebeccaraisin/the-bookshop-on-the-corner-by-rebecca-raisin/

Find Rebecca here: 

https://www.facebook.com/RebeccaRaisinAuthor

http://rebeccaraisin.wordpress.com

www.twitter.com/jaxandwillsmum 

The Bookshop on The Corner blog: http://thecornerbookshop.wordpress.com/

 

 

Tagged: authors, carina, guest blogs

Writing Your Perfect Man- Lessons from a Chick Lit Writer

I’ve written some dreamboats in my books, and the reason I started in the first place was because no man really seemed to be like the ones you read about in books. Which is fine, we live in reality, we don’t expect Prince Charming. But here’s a few things I’ve noticed about the dreamy male characters in books, and maybe they’ll give our real life counterparts some ideas.

 

 

They’re capable of explaining how they feel.

 

It’s usually way after something silly has happened, but these guys have enough self knowledge to explain why they’ve done something. That’s always nice, instead of sitting there in confusion, like a real person.

 

Some shit happened, but they’re over it.

 

There was a crazy ex, a business deal gone wrong, parental issues. We always meet our leading men at the right time, when they’re done with all that stuff and can move on. In real life, we meet people when we meet them, and we’re usually dealing with our own stuff too. Which is where the understanding that real people aren’t perfect comes in.

 

Organisation

 

I think people often mistake what power means. I personally didn’t find Christian Gray a decent male character, he didn’t make me swoon. Neither did that soppy vampire. People were attracted to their power over their women, and in Gray’s case, his money. It’s easy enough to say ‘Oh, he flew her about in a private jet’ or whatever, but the truth of power is the ability to arrange things. To book dinner, to make plans. Whether that’s a private jet, or a private booth at Burger King.

 

Surprises

 

Even control freaks like myself want a little surprise every now and then! My male leads are able to make sweet gestures that aren’t so over the top you want to vomit, but make a difference. Who doesn’t love a surprise?

 

Understanding their girl.

 

Your dreamboat male knows what’s going on in his love’s head. Not always, that would be boring and unbelievable. But he knows enough about her history, her quirks, her story to figure out why she’s suddenly freaking out, or why she’s not happy. Understanding goes a long way.

 

They Give and Receive.

 

No, I’m not being dirty. A working relationship with a fictional dreamboat involves give and take. Your main man can’t come in and solve all her problems. Why, you ask? Because then she has no purpose. If she can’t offer something, if she’s not what he needs back, then there’s no point. Again, back to Fifty Shades of Shit, she’s poor, he’s rich, she’s innocent, he’s experienced. She likes nice things, and he likes beating the shit out of a willing sex partner. 

Also, I refuse to let my leading man sweep in to solve my leading lady’s problems- I write strong, kickass women who can save themselves. They sometimes need some help figuring out how to be vulnerable, but they don’t need a man on a white horse.

 

Faults

 

That leads me nicely to number seven- they have to have something wrong with them! You know how boring it is to be with someone perfect? Tends to give your self esteem a bit of a knock too. Whether he leaves biscuit crumbs in the bed, or has a tendency to flirt, he has to be human.

 

He sees her.

 

This is a really simple trope that real life men could learn from. Notice something about your partner and identify that you are paying attention. It could be as simple as Julia Stile’s ‘hey, your eyes have a little green in them’ in Ten Things I Hate About You. It could be Harry’s list of things he knows and loves about Sally in When Harry Met Sally (‘The little crinkle in your forehead when you’re looking at me like I’m nuts!’ Aw) but noticing goes a long way. It shows your male is smitten and your leading lady is worth watching.

 

 

Tagged: author, chick lit, how to, london, love, male characters, romance, writing

My Writing Process- Blog Hop!

Okay, I’m a little behind because everything’s been going mental with the book release, and the Christmas Novel I’m working on, but here is a Blog Hop I’m taking part in! You should check out Henriette Gyland’s Blog to see where it’s come from, this post is travelling about! It’s reached most of the authors I know, so I’m putting the call out to YOU dear readers, do you want to join this blog hop?

 

What Am I Working On?

Until a few weeks ago, I was working on my second novel for Carina, another sarcastic snarky chick lit called The Young and Bitter Club. I’ve since put that on hold to work on a Christmas novel which will be released in November. It’s called Without You To Hold, and involves a young woman who ran away from home at 17 when she got pregnant, returning to her home town ten years later, dealing with her family, her first love and having them all meet her precocious (and excellent) daughter. It’s heartfelt and I love it.

How does my work differ from others of its genre?

Well, that’s difficult. It’s very sarcastic, usually very London based, or at least urban. I feel like my work really explores what it’s like to be a twenty something these days, and that it’s not always easy, it isn’t always fixed by the perfect prince in a white ferrari, but it’s made easier with hilarious friends and cheap wine.

Why do I write what I do?

I technically was trained to write Literary Fiction, that’s all my university was interested in, and I do still have a few of those ideas in the pipeline, waiting. I wrote my first women’s fictional novel as a break after writing something heavy. It didn’t feel difficult, it felt freeing and fun. And now i get to do it again!

How does my writing process work?

I used to have a really complex process, but now I just gradually work my way into writing by doing some blog posts etc in the morning, then by afternoon I’m ready to get down to it. I usually write down all the fragments in a book and then type them up in order and flesh them out, but that can get a little difficult when you’re playing with timelines!

 

Don’t forget to check out my novel The Last Word if you want to see what I’ve produced through this process. And stay tuned for the Christmas Book!

 

 

 

 

Tagged: blog hop, carina, london, the last word, writing process

Finchley Lit Fest- A Recap!

I’ve been to a lot of festivals. I even created one myself. So when the Greenacre Writers were kind enough to let me get involved in the Finchley Literary Festival, I was overjoyed.

A series of workshops, talks, performances and so much more, through a variety of different venues in Finchley. It was just as brilliant as it sounds!

The main thing that I noticed, beyond the brilliant events, was the community surrounding the Greenacre writers and the festival. So many creative people coming together, supporting each other, listening and responding with enthusiasm and excitement.

 

And the level of talent was mind blowing. At the Spoken Word Showcase in Friern Barnet Library, there was such an array of authors, poets, short story writers. We even had a singalong! In my time attending such events its so rare that everyone is so wonderful! Plus an array of lovely cakes made it even better. I was lucky enough to meet Amy Bird, another author with my publishing imprint, and it occurred to me what a resource for local writers this festival is, as we wouldn’t have even known that we were connected!

 

The main event over the weekend featured wonderful writers and an excellent panel that really got me thinking about how we approach publishing, how things like race and gender are interpreted, and most of all inspired me to get back to my writing desk!

I was pleased to run a kids writing workshop at Friern Barnet Library, which was full of bright and talented young writers who blew me away with their creativity! It was such a great day, that I’m doing another Kids Writing Workshop in Barnet on Thursday 14th August, featuring games and activities to get little ones inspired! Ages 7-12.

I was so pleased to get a place in Emily Benet‘s packed workshop in Social Media for Authors, which was engaging, funny and informative.  Seeing the amount of local writers who want to know about social media, marketing, and generally how to get their book out there, I’ll be working with creative entrepreneur and marketing genius Steven Sparling of The Thriving Creative to offer a Marketing Bootcamp for Writers in Barnet at the end of July. Get in touch for more info!

 

Tagged: creative writing for kids, finchley literary festival, friern barnet library, greenacre writers, workshops