Jacqueline C. Thomas - Romance Novelist

Romance

NaNoWriMo 2019 Eve

by 1 Comment

To most people October 31st. is celebrated for Halloween. For the writers in your life this day is known as NaNoWriMo Eve. This magical day is the eve of one of the largest collective novel-writing programs to kick off in the United States. NaNoWriMo, or Nano as I call it, stands for National Novel Writing Month. The idea is you dedicate one month to write a novel, at least fifty-thousand words. When my husband and I met, he was the prolific writer in our relationship. I dreaded November because I know I became a “book widow,” as he feverishly typed away in his home office. I didn’t understand what all the fuss was about.

After I wrote my first book, a couple of years back, my husband challenged me to do Nano. I believe it went something like this, “you’re a writer now, I bet you have another book in you. Do you think you can do it?” Never one to back down to a challenge, I committed to completing my first Nano ever. I wrote The Lake Michigan Affair in three weeks. At the time I was working for a local organization that threw a massive Christmas celebration for the town and I knew that I would not have the bandwidth to organize that event and write. I had the idea, a devout Catholic woman who falls in love with the new Catholic Bishop of Chicago, but little else. I set off and working under pressure, the story grew before me. I look back at it in awe. Two years later after several re-writes and copy edits, I am seeing representation for The Lake Michigan Affair. It amazes me, I still can’t believe I had that story in me.

Last year for Nano, I wrote another novel. It was the story of friends who work together. They go through a horrific tragedy and are brought together in grief. There’s only one catch, she’s married, he isn’t. What drew me to this story is that the characters had always had a “thing” for each other, an attraction that neither had ever acted upon until this turning point in both of their lives. What I loved about this project is the main character Emily, is flawed, she breaks Gabe, her love interest’s heart, not once but twice! This was a challenge to write and still make her likeable. I started this book with an idea of unrequited love between two friends that blossoms into something more, spurred on by tragedy.

There is one scene in this book that I especially love. It is where Emily has hurt Gabe badly, and she comes to him to reconcile, not even realizing that is why she is there. Gabe has just lost his mother and is back home to sign over the keys for the sale of his childhood home. She comes over to be supportive of Gabe and they end up sleeping together. I love this scene because it is so intimate. They end up getting stuck at Gabe’s childhood due to a snowstorm. Together they build a fire in the fireplace in the living room to stay warm when the power goes out. However, they have no trouble staying warm, making love to each other all night. I love this scene!

This year as I gear up for another Nano, once again I have my idea in mind. I feel like I have my main character loosely configured and her love interest or interests. This time there is no marital affair, other matters of the heart are afoot though. I am so excited to be able to start Nano this year. I love this program so much. Life is busy, and finding time to write is a struggle but for me, knowing there is a deadline, that the first draft should be done by the end of the month is exhilarating. What excites me, even more, is the story that is yet to come. I guess I am easily entertained because I am always in awe when I complete a work, that I came up with that story.

The one thing I am not looking forward to is the halfway point. It is usually at the end of the first act, or before the climax that I have a crisis of confidence and am tempted to scrap the entire thing. I have done this with everything I have ever written, with the exception of Come Sail Away with Me. Here’s hoping that this year’s doubts are manageable and I won’t give up. My personal motto has always been one word, “relentless.” Be relentless in goals, that means not giving up and telling myself, even if the book turns out to be garbage, I didn’t give up. I have never finished a book and thought it was trash, by the time I got to the end. Sure, it might need a massive amount of work, but the story is there. So if I can give one piece of advice for those of you who are doing Nano this year it would be this, DON’T GIVE UP… KEEP GOING!

See you all at the end of the month with our books in hand!

 

If you’d like to learn more about NaNoWriMo, click here.

Back to Half Moon Bay

by 3 Comments

It’s official, I have my writer’s groove back! Hallelujah!!! I wrote a very honest post a few weeks back about having difficulties returning to writing after going through a traumatic surgery. I couldn’t seem to focus, but more importantly the creative muscle just wasn’t flexing. I wrote about how dishearting and terrifying this was. I had made the plan to return to my first completed novel to rewrite it. I chose the project because I didn’t have to build the world, or the characters, the groundwork was already done. All I had to do was enhance, organize, and tell their story. Simple right? HA!

I learned through this process that rewriting so so much harder than writing from scratch. When you write from scratch, you have the freedom to create, when you rewrite there are limitations, you have to write in the world already built. The story is a romance between a woman visiting her brother in Silicon Valley for the summer, and she falls for her brother’s boss, a tech giant. I loved revisiting this steamy love story, which takes place in Half Moon Bay, California. My thought process for choosing this to help me get my groove back was that I loved this story, it was the work that wooed me to love writing.

There were parts of this process that were so much fun, especially adding rich detail into the story. Describing the feeling of his hair as she ran her fingers through it, how he thought she smelled to him, these seemingly small details made such a massive difference when I wrote them out. All the while I had to be careful to keep in mind the framework I was supposed to be working in, keeping with the narrative of the story. I loved doing this part of this rewrite, it made the characters so much more….more everything!

For as fun as it was, it was difficult too. There were entire chapters that didn’t make it into the new version. Have you ever killed an entire chapter? It’s brutal but necessary. Then there were the chapters that had all of the components to move the narrative forward but they were in the wrong order, a full chapter rewrite, ouch. I found chapter rewrites to be the most challenging and the most rewarding. The work was gruelling, and as cliche, as it sounds, I did have to kill my darlings, the things I loved in the book, in order to streamline the story and make it tight.

Being a full-time working mom and a graduate school student, to say that time is precious is an understatement. Another difference in a rewrite vs. a “regular” write is that I really had to pay attention to details. For each chapter I worked on, I would reread the chapter before it, before working on the next one, this helped keep continuity and move the narrative forward in a succinct manner. This means I spent as much time reading the book as I did writing it! On days where I was lucky enough to be able to write for a few hours, I would read large parts of the book. I was very strict with myself, knowing the importance of doing this. Re-reading the most recently completed chapter before writing the next one, made this process feel painfully slow. As someone who has limited time, this was an exercise in patience. It was important though, moving deliberately through the book in a slower way gave time to let ideas and plotlines “marinate.”

With NaNoWriMo coming up, I knew I needed to have this book done before I participated. I know I only have the bandwidth to work on one project at a time right now. I was so committed to getting this book done, I got up at 5 am. to write before work. This is a huge thing for me! I am not a morning person! If I didn’t have to be a functional person, I would be happy to write into the early hours. Life is quiet in the middle of the night. Each night before bed, I’d set my coffee pot to brew at 4:45 am, and my laptop on my nightstand. When my alarm would go off, I’d grab a cup of coffee and then sneak off to our spare bedroom, curl up on the bed and start writing. It was just me in the dark, with only the glow of the screen, and my characters. I fell in love with writing like this! If you haven’t tried it, I highly suggest it! There are very few things in life that will have me hopping out of bed in the morning happily, and this was one of them. What was even more amazing is that I found that my creative muscle would be in overdrive all day. I would come home from work, do homework, kids, dinner, bath etc. and race to get back to my computer.

Last night I “finished” the rewrite. I use quotations because as any true writer will tell you, a book is never finished, you just get it to a point where it is good enough. As I wrote my last sentence, tears welled in my eyes. I started this project as a lifeline back to writing. I needed these characters and a world already built, like writing training-wheels. My plan worked, I found my writing groove in such a strong, powerful way. As I stared at my computer screen looking at 106,000 words, I wiped tears from my cheeks and shut my computer. This book will always be incredibly special to me because it was the first thing I ever wrote, and it came flying out of me. Now, this book taught me how to rewrite but more importantly, it wooed me again.

So the plan for Come Sail Away With Me, as it is titled? I need to let it sit for a couple of months. I need to step away from it, it needs to rest. In the meantime I will be doing NaNoWriMo, the idea for this year’s project came while I was rewriting CSAW. Sometime this winter I will pull it back out and reread, editing and tweak along the way. From there, it is off to a professional copy editor and then….. query time! I’ve decided I am going to try to seek representation for it. Let’s see if this story shares it’s magic again and snags an agent.

When the Words Aren’t There

by 2 Comments

(Cheers to the words!)

 

The first book I ever wrote, I dreamt. I mulled over the idea of writing it into a book for a day or two, then sat down and did it. I wrote the first book in a week, or at least the first full draft that week. The whole experience was lifechanging for me, as cliche as that sounds, it is true. I knew writing was something that I would do for the rest of my life. I am very blessed not to have a shortage of creative people in my life, and I remember them talking from time to time how creativity wasn’t flowing, and their process was stilted. I remember thinking to myself how ridiculous this sounded… Then karma laughed.

From the first book on, I have never stopped writing. The words have always flowed out of me pretty easily; the inspiration was there. Sure, I’ve had difficulties with sections of every piece I have ever written, but these were manageable hurdles. I am the sort of person that when I set my mind to something and commit, that’s it, I’m not done until I have accomplished what I set out to. “Arse in chair,” is what we say in our house when it comes to writing, meaning sit your butt in the chair and just write, no excuses. Sounds simple enough.. again karma laughed.

Last May, I ran into some health issues, and the scare of a lifetime thus far, yet I kept writing, it saw me through. I poured all of my nervous energy into McKinley Park, letting myself fall into Rachel and Ben’s world. Writing was a haven and comfort as I nervously waited for test results. I was also raising my two children, one who has special needs, working a full-time and sometimes demanding job, and completing my Master’s degree in public relations, but no matter what, I kept writing. My test results came back, and although I was in the clear, I still needed significant surgery, life-altering surgery.

I don’t know anyone who likes surgery, but I hate it. The anaesthesia makes me violently ill for days, but there was no way around it. So the surgery was scheduled; meanwhile my most challenging course of my graduate career kicked off at the same time, a statistics course disguised as a research course. I am not a numbers person; I am a letters woman. I knew with surgery and this course, which I was not going to defer, that I was going to have to put writing on hold for a while. I finished up McKinley Park and stopped writing. It was the weirdest sensation not to be building a world for two people to fall in love in. There was this nagging feeling like I was forgetting something. I suppress the urge to write, knowing that school, work, and healing were going to take all of the bandwidth that I had.

I made it through the surgery with relative ease, and I am grateful for it. I am usually a complications magnet, but things went smoothly. I was told that it was going to be painful, but I had, had two kids by C-section, one of which was 10lbs! I knew pain; I wasn’t scared. This was a whole other ball game, folks. I couldn’t write even if I wanted to. As the days at home dragged on, I wanted to write, but I knew I couldn’t, between being too tired, or hopped up on pain pill, and not in the good slightly unstable author way. (That’s a joke.) Then while I was home healing, the statistics course went from a difficulty setting of 6 out of 10 to a 10 out of 10. Have you ever tried to compute statistics while on heavy pain medication? Let me tell you; it is an experience, one that I never want to repeat.

Slowly my body got stronger, and I returned to work. The statistics course from hell ended and the next course in my graduate program started. I thought to myself that I was finally in a place where I could start writing again. McKinley Park was just about done being published; it felt like the right time to start something new. I was ready…. but where had the words gone? Where was the inspiration that had once come so easily? Reassuring myself that this would take time, I didn’t push, something in me knew not to push. I know I have mentioned it before, but I am not a patient woman. I try to be, but I know I am not. Inspiration was not happening fast enough for me.

Finally, I had a thread of an idea, and I sat down and started writing, only to pitter out two chapters in. It was forced; the words weren’t flowing as they had before. I let myself stop, something I never do. I knew this wasn’t the right idea for right now; I could always come back to it. I found myself missing writing, but not able to write creatively. One of my biggest pet peeves are those who are creative and drone on about process, I am the “arse in chair,” girl, yet here I was. Now what? If you miss it, then put your arse in the chair and start writing.

While I was preparing for and recovering from surgery, I also put my querying efforts for The Lake Michigan Affair on hold. I knew I did not have the bandwidth to give the querying process the time it required. I told myself to take the time not writing to focus my efforts here instead. That did not go well either. Deep down, I secretly wondered if I had broken this magical gift that had allowed me to write so effortlessly before. Had I suppressed the desire to write into complete dormancy?

The inspiration was not there, to accompany the words, even though I engaged in things that I knew would spark my creativity. Everything felt flat. I continued to push, to no avail. I was not one of the writers I had previously rolled my eyes at, as karma’s laughter was now a full side-aching, knee-slapping, tears down the face roar of laughter. I was not pleased.

Then the other night as I was laying in bed, I had the most surreal experience. It was almost like the characters I had written were all suddenly there, fresh, at the top of my mind. It felt like a hug from friends. There was something about it that was comforting and reassuring. I started to think about each of them and their stories. All of the other feelings about writing fell away, and it felt freeing. I fell asleep that night feeling like I had sat in my grandmother’s kitchen, that warm feeling of being loved. The next morning, still thinking about the experience from the night before I sat back and thought about the stories I had created.

My first book has a great story, but the writing was poor. It was the first thing I had ever written creatively at that point. I had planned to rewrite it last spring in California, on the coast where it takes place, but life had other plans. I told myself I would not revise it until I was on the coast. I wanted to be where the story took place. I opened the book in Scrivner and started picking at the first chapter, making corrections and reworking parts of it. Before I knew it, I was well into chapter 3. Those first characters I had ever created were there, welcoming me back. In the back of my head, I kept telling myself to stop; this was not when and where this project was supposed to get rewritten.

Finally, last night as I sat and rewrote/ edited further into the book, I told that inner voice to shut the hell up. Now is the time to rewrite this book, I knew  I needed the familiar, needed to see that even in my first attempt to write, I was capable. As I write this now, I am itching to dig back in and continue working on the book, the desire is there, and it feels great. Maybe this book is like writing with training-wheels until I am ready and steady enough to create from scratch again. Whatever it is, I am incredibly grateful and going with it.

McKinley Park: Chapter 26 (The Final Chapter)

by 4 Comments

“Ben go home. Go see the boys. You haven’t been home in days.” Marty said, looking at Ben who had not left the station since he had got back into the city.

“I am not going home until she comes home too. I already told you.”

“Ben, you’ve been here for two days when was the last time you showered, ate, or slept. You aren’t any good to her like this.”

Ben knew this speech; he had given it many times himself to anxious family members of victims. To make matters worse his chief had heard about the interrogation in Michigan with Rhett and Ben had been placed on leave. He couldn’t work in an official capacity. Ben looked up at Marty, staring right through the bullshit.

“A nap at least? You can crash in the break room. I am not going anywhere; I will wake you if we hear anything. You have to get some sleep before you collapse.”

Ben nodded, he was so tired his vision was blurry, and his hand hurt like hell. He had it cast back at the hospital when he went to check in with the boys before heading back into the city. Becky had taken the boys back to Rachel’s and was staying with them. He could not go home and face the boys without the news that their mother had been found. Ben wanted to be where he had resources actually to help Rachel. He laid down on the old tweed couch in the break room. The sofa smelled, but Ben didn’t care, he was too tired to care. He closed his eyes and saying a silent prayer that Rachel was still alive and fighting. He fought off sleep but it overcame him and he slept deeply.

“Ben, wake up,” Marty said, shaking him awake.

Ben’s eyes shot open; it was completely dark outside. He had been out since evening.

“Did we find her?”

“We have the car. A traffic stop, they have the driver over at the 10th. He gave them an address.”

Ben shot upoff of the sofa.

“Where?”

“The FBI is the lead on this; we need to hang back, their orders.”

“What the fuck is the address, Marty?”

“413 Polk. Ben, we can’t go.” Marty shouted as Ben ran out of the office.

“Stephen Duke’s address.” Ben shouted back “Son of a bitch!”

Marty ran to follow Ben and caught up to him as Ben slid into the driver’s seat of their unmarked car.

“Maybe you should let me drive, man,” Marty said, as he got in on the passenger’s side.

Ben stepped on the gas and flipped the sirens before Marty had even finished closing the door.

“Slow down. You aren’t going to be any help to her if you’re wrapped around a pole. Ben, we don’t know if she’s even there.”

“She’s there.”

“How do you know?”

“She has to be.”

They rode in silence through the loop.

“Ben, I know you want to be there and you need to be there, but you are going to have to let the FBI run this. You go running in there like a crazed teenager; you are going to get people killed, lose your badge or get Rachel killed. You have got to calm down, man. I know..”

“You don’t have a fucking clue what this has been like. I promised her I would protect her.” Ben said as he cut Marty off.

“Ben, I would be a terrible friend and a worse partner if I didn’t bring this up. You know there is a chance that..” Marty paused.

“Stop. She is alive. I know she is. She’s a fighter. She’s strong.”

Ben switched off the siren when he got a few blocks away. The street looked erily quiet, the FBI had to be staking out the house. Ben drove two blocks past Polk street and parked the car on the street. Marty grabbed Ben’s arm.

“I can’t leave her in there, while the FBI sits around with their thumbs up their asses.”

“Ben.” Marty didn’t know what to say; he knew he’d be in the same position if it were his wife in that house. “Shit this is going to cost me my badge too, damn it.” Marty rubbed his forehead. “How do you want to play this?”

Ben patted his partner on the shoulder.

“Go, make sure the feds don’t shoot me but give me a head start okay?”

Marty let out a deep breath.

“Be careful; you can’t help her if you aren’t here anymore.”

Ben nodded. He got out of the car and shut the door quietly. It was around 11:30 pm and Ben was grateful for the darkness. He slipped through the abandoned lot and the yards behind the house as he crossed into to the back yard behind the Duke’s house. The house was dark. Ben walked up and pulled his gun as he walked to the back door. He expected it to be locked. He spun the knob, and to his surprise, it opened. People in this neighborhood did not leave their back door’s open. Ben stepped inside and left the lights off. He was still and listened for any signs of life in the house.

Meanwhile, Marty pulled around and spotted two undercover agents. He got out of this car and walked up to the driver’s window and introduced himself. He explained that Ben was in the house, which set off a flurry of phone calls.

“Just don’t shoot him, okay?”

Agent Yee came around the block on foot, “Are you guys fucking kidding me?”

“It’s his fiancé.”

“I don’t care if it was the Pope himself,” Yee said.

Ben continued to make his way through the house as quietly as he could. He checked the rooms on the ground floor and then went to the back of the house to take the stairs up to the second floor. He stopped when he thought he heard a whimper. He froze and listened for it again. In his gut, he knew it was Rachel. It sounded like it was coming from below the kitchen. Ben opened the basement door. There was a dim light coming from somewhere in the basement. Ben crept down the stairs, careful to not make a sound. He stepped onto the poured cement floor and saw a door to a room in the back corner. The basement looked like your typical old, unfinished basement, complete with a washer and dryer and a workbench. Ben followed the noise. He walked up to the door, seeing a dim light coming from underneath. He bent down and got on all fours to see if he could see anyone standing in the room. There was only a mattress.

“Rachel?” Ben whispered. “Rachel, are you in there?”

Ben didn’t wait for her to answer. He stood up and opened the door slowly.

Rachel laid naked on a dirty mattress with her hands tied behind her back. She had bruises and cuts all over her. The sight of her took the air out of Ben’s lungs. He ran over to her and bent down. She recoiled, not realizing it was Ben.

“Rachel, it’s me, it’s Ben. You’re safe now. Look at me, honey.”

Ben reached out for her and she pulled further back, pressing her body tightly against the wall. He took off his flannel shirt and covered her with it.

“Rachel, honey, we have to out of here. Come on. Please give me your hand.”

As soon as Ben said, it a hail of gunfire broke out in the floors above. Rachel screamed, and Ben laid over her to protect her. Ben could hear footsteps above. They were going to have to get out of the basement if they stood a chance.

“Rachel, look at me. We have to get out of here now.”

“Ben?” Rachel asked, finally recognizing him.

“Yes, it’s me. Rachel, I am so sorry, I am so, so sorry!” Ben kissed her forehead repeated as he said it. “We have to go now. Do you think you can walk?”

“Untie me, please.” Ben could hear her trying to hold onto her sanity. He reached into his pocket and cut the zip-ties on her wrists. He pulled her hand up to his mouth and pressed a kiss into the center. She reached out and clung to him, as she began to sob. He held her tightly against him, she felt so small and frail in his arms. He never wanted to let go of her again but he knew that they had to get out of the basement, they were trapped down there.

“You’re safe. Come on, we have to go now. You’ve been so strong; I need you to be strong for a little while longer. Come on; I know you can do this.” Ben said softly, as he looked into her deep brown eyes.

Ben stood and helped Rachel to her feet. She was so weak her legs gave out from underneath her. Ben caught her before she fell. He lifted her up into his arms and carried her out of the room, keeping his back close to the wall. He stayed close to the wall, as gunfire was still roaring up above. He walked up the stairs with his back along the wall. Rachel clung to him tightly.

“Honey, I have to put you down to check if the kitchen is clear. I will keep ahold of you, but you have to stay behind me. I won’t let you fall.”

Rachel nodded as Ben set her down, her feet landing on the top step of the basement stairs. The kitchen miraculously seemed to be clear. Ben took a deep breath as he scooped Rachel back up into his arms and walked quickly across the kitchen. He opened the back door, which was tricky with Rachel in his arms and his casted hand. He stepped out onto the back porch, Rachel hands dug into his shoulders as she clung to him. He pressed a kiss onto the top of her head as he started down the stairs. He heard a loud noise he couldn’t place and Rachel scream. Ben felt Rachel fall from his arms. The world went black.

 

After

 

The morning Rachel was to be discharged, Ben slept on a couch in her room.  It was still early when she slipped out of bed and shuffled across the linoleum floor. She bent down and wiped the hair from Ben’s forehead.  His eyes shot open.

“Why are you out of bed?”

“Because you are over here. Come climb in with me.”

“I’m okay. Come on I’ll tuck you back in.” Ben said as he sat up.

She stood back up, a little shaky on her feet. She held his hand as he helped her back into her bed and pulled his hand gently.

“Climb in with me.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t, look there’s enough room.” She patted the space in the bed next to her.

Ben climbed in and Rachel rolled onto her side to face him.

“Hold me.”

He pulled her body in close to him and nestled her head under his chin. He kissed the top of her head.

“Ben, I want to do something a crazy little today when we leave.”

“We can do whatever you want.”

“I want to marry you today.”

“What? Why today? Wouldn’t you rather wait until you are more healed?”

“No, today is the first day I will be strong enough to marry you. Just the boys, and me, and you, and a preacher. I just held onto that while I was captive and promised myself that I would marry you as soon as I was able. That is what I was fighting for, to be with you.”

“Rachel, will you marry me today, at the farmhouse, with our boys there?”

Rachel began to cry, this time, happy tears.

“Yes, Ben Carter I will marry you at your farmhouse today.”

Suddenly, it was afternoon as Rachel walked out onto the back porch with Tommy at her side to give her away. The air was crisp, and the leaves just began to change, on a beautiful autumn day as the sun started to set  She walked the ten feet where Ben stood next to the local reverend, as a small group of family and friends had gathered to see Ben and Rachel marry. They exchanged vows as the boys looked on happily.

 

Rachel shot up in bed, in a pool of sweat, her nightdress soaked through. It was cruel to dream things like that, and she hated herself for it. To be so happy and then to wake up to reality, alone. Everything in her body craved Ben’s touch, his presence, but he had died that night, the night he came to rescued her. A bullet had hit him in the head and had killed him instantly. Six months had passed since that awful night. Rachel put her hand over her mouth; she didn’t want the boys to hear her sobbing. Felix, Ben’s cat, jumped up onto the bed and nudged her. She grabbed ahold of the cat and held onto him. This was going to be another sleepless night for Rachel, just one of many she cried through since Ben had died.

Life had changed drastically for Rachel, with Rhett and Andrew behind bars. The FBI had busted the poker game. There were 104 arrests; two prostitution rings broken up, an illegal trafficking operation stopped and the largest drug bust in Chicago history, all as a result of the poker game in Jim Danwood’s garage. Everyone was shocked by the ways the poker game weaved a web of crime through the city. The city had awarded Ben the Police Medal, the Chicago Police Department’s highest honor. While Rachel began to work through all of the trauma she had endured.

Rachel sold her house on Lilac Lane; she couldn’t live across the street from Ben’s house. His brothers had sold his house as well.  It was too painful to stay there for her. She had rented a townhouse out near Becky in Oswego, and had set to making a new life for her and the boys. They took Ben’s death hard too. Rachel had found a good family therapist, and they were all working through Ben’s death, and her kidnapping. Ben’s death was a broken promise of happiness for them as well.

Rachel got up out of bed and walked over to the record player it, and the one record she kept were the only things of Ben’s that she had asked for. The boys insiseted the they take Felix and Ben’s older brother Joel was happy to let the boys have the cat. The one record she had asked for was the one they had danced to in Ben’s office. She turned the knob as the turntable began to spin and she gently picked up the needle setting it in the right spot. The music begain, but she kept the volume low, not to wake the boys. The warm voice radiated from the player as sat on the bed listening to the song waft through the room, instantly transported back to Ben’s office. If she focused really hard she could almost smell him.

Startled she heard a knock at the door, she perked up and wiped the tears off of her cheeks.

“Come in.” She cleared her throat.

Evan walked in.

“Why are you up, buddy?” She asked as she reached out for him.

“I can’t sleep.”

“Me either.”

“Are you missing Ben again, Mom?”

“I am sweetie. How about you?”

“Yeah, I was thinking about how he took care of us in the hospital when you were gone. He was really nice to us.”

“He loved you, boys, very much.”

“Mom are we going to be okay?”

“What do you mean sweetie?”

“Will the bad guys ever come back?”

“No, they won’t ever come back. Ben may have left, but he did what he promised you boys, he made sure those bad men would never come back to hurt any of us.”

Evan reached out and hugged Rachel.

“You need to get back to bed sweetie, it’s late, and you have school in the morning. Come on; I’ll tuck you back in.”

Rachel stood to walk Evan back to bed. She took two steps but didn’t hear him behind her, so she turned around to look at him.

“Mom want to dance?” Evan held out his hand. “We have this good music.”

Rachel let out a little chuckle as she took Evan’s hand.  She gave him his first slow dance in her bedroom, to the Etta James song that had meant so much to her.

How to Get to Know your Characters

by Leave a Comment

Getting to know your characters should seem like the easiest thing in the world to do for an author, after all, you’ve created them. I have seen a lot of questions asked lately in the Twitter Writing Community about how to get to know your characters. I believe that you can have the best plot in the world that draws readers in, but if the characters are well-rounded and fleshed out the whole work will flop. I want to share my tips on how I do my best to create vibrant characters.

I am not a planner. When I start writing a novel, I don’t have the plot all mapped out. I usually have a loose idea of the climax and I build the story out around it. Next, come the characters. Like the narrative, I usually have a loose idea of who they are. I imagine them, with just the basics and I begin to write. It is during the writing process for me that I begin to hear their voice come through in the writing.

For example, look at Ben and Rachel in McKinley Park. I knew Ben was a police detective and I wanted Rachel to be a single mom. I started with the most basic aspects of who they are. After a few chapters, I can begin to see their voice and this influences more of who they are. When I started McKinley Park, I didn’t know Ben was one of three brothers, like Rachel’s boys. As I wrote their fist date and needed the two connect this idea spoke to me.

It is usually around chapter 3 or 4 that I really begin to get to know my characters. It is at this time that I pause for what I call a character interview. I know this sounds nuts but I swear it changed my writing for the better. I basically interview the character asking questions like:

What is your favorite food?

Where did you grow up?

What was your home life like?

What is your favorite feature about yourself?

(Because I write Romance) Why do you love X?

What do you do for fun?

I ask these sorts of questions of my characters and I walk away knowing them much more intimately. I am able to continue writing on in the project really knowing who my characters are. I know their likes and dislikes, some of their past and a lot more.

In the first book I ever wrote, I dreamed the story first so my imagination had already done the work for me of physical appearance. I find that for me, physical appearance usually comes in later. In McKinley Park, I had a rough idea of what Rachel looked like, slim, busty, with dark brown hair and green eyes, and soft, pink lips. Rhett, her ex, his appearance came to me very early. In the spirit of honest conversation, Ben’s physical appearance was a mystery to me through so much of the book. I kept asking him, what do you look like? No joke, it wasn’t until the last few chapters that I got an idea of what he looks like. Physical appearance is not the easiest for me and it is a common criticism that I hear from my beta readers. I am trying to work on my interview questions to include more of this information so I can get a better idea of what they look like.

I also like to imagine my characters in different situations outside of the plot. I like to imagine what their reaction would be. For example, what would Rhett do if one of his son’s puked in his fancy car? What would his reaction be? I love this exercise, I feel like not only do I get to know the character better but it is like cake for my imagination, yummy and indulgent. I find that I do this best right before I fall asleep. I set the scene and let my character loose as I drift off to sleep. Seriously, try it, it is awesome!

There are lots of ways to get to know your characters. Make the time to do it, your work will be so much stronger for it. Try your best to take yourself out of the equation and let them speak, you might be surprised at what they have to say. I know I have been for sure in the past! I have included a few links below of good resources for getting to know your characters. Take a look. Fellow writers if you have any tips or tricks getting to know your characters please share with the class in the comments.

 

https://www.writinglaraferrari.com/101-character-questions

https://rachelgiesel.com/blog/how-to-really-get-to-know-your-characters-a-questionnaire

https://www.livylynnblog.com/2017/11/03/questions-get-know-character-cheat-sheet/.

 

 

 

Taboo Sex: What is Society’s Safe Word?

by 2 Comments

I spent last weekend with engrossed with Tiffany Reisz’s The Siren. It is supposed to be the work she is most known for. I adore her writing and while it is considered erotica, and it really is, the story is fantastic. I have read three of her books up until that point. The first book I read by her was The Red, it was steamy, but the story was amazing too. She just released another book earlier this year called The Rose. which was a masterclass in storytelling. She is an amazing storyteller, so I was eager to read her most well-known work, The Siren. 

Without giving too much away, the story in The Siren is what I would consider strong S&M. This is a story about the S&M lifestyle, something alien to me. Now, I just want to be very clear here, I am in no way making a judgment call on anyone’s preferences in the bedroom. As long as all who are participating are consenting, of age adults, then all the power to them. I really tried to understand the love, and lust in this type of relationship, but I really struggled with it. 

When Fifty Shades of Grey came out, I remember people being shocked by the “rough stuff.” I have heard the joke that if Christian Grey had been poor, the book would have had a very different slant. Full disclosure, I haven’t read the series, but the whole thing got me thinking about taboo sex, romance writing, and erotica writing. There is something fun about writing the taboo, the forbidden, and the unorthodox. As I continued to think about that, two big stories broke, the Jeffery Epstein story and R. Kelly being brought up on Federal charges. Both cases dealt with older men and underage girls. 

I just want to be very clear, I am not making a connection to S&M play and sleeping with underage girls. It is strange what makes people “tick” sexually. Adult entertainment is filled with images, and videos of women as close to the required age of consent as possible. One of the sexiest romance novels I ever read was between an older man and an 18-year-old girl. It just got me to wondering if pushing the boundaries in writing sex is a responsible thing to do?

I am not saying that in R. Kelly’s case or Epstein’s case that they read a romance novel with taboo sex and it influenced them, that would be ridiculous. It just made me ask questions. As I said earlier, as long as all parties are of age, not coerced, not getting hurt and are willing parties, then all the power to them, to experience intimacy how they chose. The question I found myself asking, is what classifies sexual behavior as taboo and what part does writing sex play in that?

I mean think, twenty years back, S&M was a taboo topic. If you told me then about the success of Fifty Shades, I would have said you were nuts, no way that would ever be mainstream. What classifies sex as taboo? I do think there are some clear lines, like sex with underage participants, and sex where people get hurt, are no goes. That being said, take my current work McKinley Park into account, the subplot is about a murder and a rapist. Rape is a taboo subject. Many feel that it should not be written about at all, that writing about it glorifies it. I respectfully believe it is about framing it, is the subject written to glorify or denounce. 

I am all for sexual expression, period. I just wonder with erotica becoming more mainstream, which I support, does it continue to push the line of acceptable versus taboo? Is that a good thing? What do you think? If you write sex, do you think you hold some responsibility in this discussion? I would be interested in knowing what you think. Let me know in the comments below!