Today’s five are my favorite one-liners in movies. I’m a sucker for a one-liner, throwaway line! In my writing, I try to be creative and give my characters really good, memorable one-liners. Sometimes I get it right; sometimes…not so much, LOL.
But these are the lines that have stuck with me forever.
“Get off my plane” AIR FORCE ONE
“There’s no place like home” THE WIZARD OF OZ
“Leave the gun, take the cannolis” THE GODFATHER
“I would die for you” ROBIN HOOD, PRINCE OF THIEVES
“I’m just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her.” NOTTING HILL.
And I have to add one more because I quote it sososo much.
Today’s blog re-read comes from one I did for ROMANCING THE GENRES in January, 2021. Here’s the link: ROMANCING THE GENRES
One of my favorite quotes of all time is from the amazeballs Maya Angelou, and I repeat it to myself often.
Never has this thought been so profound in my writing life as it is right now.
When I started writing as a child I wrote like a, well, child. My short stories were a series of “and then his happened-s,” run-on sentences, and prose packed with adverbs, flowery descriptions, and analogies that had no real comparative basis behind them. My fiction read more like a diary entry than actual crafted storytelling. But I found great joy in the writing.
My graduate thesis was written from a scientific methodology viewpoint and reads like the driest medical tome ever penned. Facts, figures, graphs, statistics. Boring with a capital BORING. But I loved writing it.
As I began writing non-fiction articles on motherhood and the life of a 30-something for magazines after I had my daughter, I wrote with an easy, I’m-just-talking-to-you-over-coffee style. Nothing craft-heavy at all, no real plot or story structure, just a simple imparting of info laced with humor and self-deprecating insights. Writing these articles was a labor of love that made me feel lighter and more confident with myself as a new mother and a woman trying to navigate through a crazy world.
Even blog writing, which is more of a conversation with me in the driver’s seat brings me a sense of purpose and accomplishment. I can pop a blog post out in less than a half-hour most days, never have to edit it for content – only spelling mistakes – and then hit post without worry. Love that!
When I first began writing fiction in my 50’s I knew nothing about plot, structure, conflict, subplot, sub-text, or character motivation. I simply had a story in my head and wanted to get it on paper. I look at my debut romance novel, SKATER’S WALTZ from The Wild Rose Press, now and think, yeah, it was a decent story…but really could have been better. But I wrote that book with such joy in my heart during a time in my life that was very challenging. The sense of accomplishment and utter jubilation that it was actually published was a top ten event in my life.
Now that I write romantic fiction in a few sub-genres – RomCom, Contemporary, Romantic Suspense lite – I have to write in a way that brings the reader into the story, gets them hooked on the characters, and leaves them at the end of the book satisfied and wanting more from me. I have an obligation to the reader to present a satisfying product to them.
No easy feat, this, and one which – daily – gives me agita! I’ve gotten so worried this past year about selling books, marketing, and learning new digital ways to publish just to get my books in front of people that I’ve lost my way a little in the writing from my heart department. The joy just hasn’t been there and I think it’s shown in my writing.
So, after close to 30 books published, I’ve decided to do something that sounds a bit crazy, and, in all honesty, probably is.
I’m starting over.
See? Crazy.
What it really means is that I’m going back to basics, armed with the wisdom I’ve managed to gather these past 5 years since I was first published. Readers want a story that they can tell the author just loved writing. They want to fall in love with the hero and heroine much the same way the characters fell in love with one another, and the writer did as well as she was bringing them to life.
I want that, too.
Those are the books I want to read, the stories I want to fill my soul.
They are also the stories I want to write.
So, with age and experience, comes wisdom and I am taking that wisdom into 2021 and writing my heart out. I’ve got a list of books that will be written and released this year, some traditionally published and several new indie releases as well. I’m not worrying about marketing, sales, getting on bestseller lists, or even winning any awards this year.
What I am going to do is simply write my heart out because that’s what makes me happy. And I know when I’m happy, my readers are, too.
So, I am almost ready to release my Kindle Vella book Vindication into print. I’ve been editing and updating it for the past month and I even changed the title to RETRIBUTION because I like that one better.
If you aren’t a VELLA reader, this will be your opportunity to read my very first serial murder book. Long before I ever wrote romance I was obsessed with serial killers. In all honesty, I kinda still am. It stems from my psychiatric nursing background.
Here’s a little taste of the story…
Settled in the Mercedes passenger seat, Kella watched Tucker guide both cars, the agents following behind, back to the motel.
“I want to apologize for Sean,” she said. “Hedoesn’t usually behave like that. Seeing you, well, it set him off.”
Tucker fingered his bruised jaw. “You don’t have to apologize. I know he hates my guts.”
“He doesn’t hate you, Tucker.”
His left eyebrow bent into a you’ve-got-to-be-joking angle. “I know he still blames me for what happened, Kella. He feels it was my fault you almost died because of my mistake. I’ve felt the same way every day for the past ten years. And I’d feel the same way if I were in his shoes.”
“No, you wouldn’t and you know it. You’d find some way to rationalize what happened, compartmentalize it into some sort of learning experience, and try to figure out what to do better next time.”
He threw her a pained look.
Grinning, she added, “But it’s nice of you to say that.”
They drove in silence for a few minutes.
“You haven’t changed a bit, you know,” she told him.
“You have,” he blurted, regretting it in an instant.
“I know.” Her laugh was husky and tinged with self-deprecation. “Three kids and a husband who owns the best restaurant in town will do that to you.”
“No, not like that,” he said, flicking a quick glance at her. “You look like you’re in the best shape of your life, actually.”
“I am. Karate plus a home gym helps.”
“It’s your hair. It’s darker, less red than it used to be. Longer, too.”
“Hormones. It darkened up with each pregnancy. I don’t look like a circus clown anymore, thank God.”
Tucker shook his head. “You never looked like a clown, Kella. Your hair was distinctive. It was part of you.”
She laughed and said, “That’s a very diplomatic way of saying it, I guess.”
“Your voice is so different. If I’d heard it on the phone I would never have believed it was you.”
She fingered the scar that ran the width of her neck from just under one ear, all the way to the other. Heavy makeup helped conceal it when clothing didn’t. Every time she looked in a mirror she was reminded of that horrible day.
“It sounds like you’ve been smoking and drinking too much,” he said.
“My doctor told me it was a miracle I could speak at all. The damage to the cords was extensive. I’m just happy to have a voice, no matter how I sound.”
“I imagine Sean thinks it’s sexy.”
Kella’s slow and thoughtful smile lit up the front seat. “Yeah. He does.”
“And you seem happy. Happier than I ever remember you being.”
“I am. I love my life.”
“It’s so different from your past.”
She thought about that for a moment. “In the big scheme of things it’s not. The main part of my life back then was spent taking care of Daddy. Now I take care of Sean and our girls.”
Tucker shook his head. “The main part of your life back then was spent using your magnificent brain to help the Bureau. You didn’t have the most normal of upbringings.”
“I survived.”
“Thankfully. I can’t imagine what your life is like now. The suburban housewife. Carpools; soccer practice. Stepford,” he added, shaking as if an electrical current shot down his spine.
Her lips stretched into a grimace. “Not quite.”
“You were always so independent, so self-governing. Ready to pick up in a half second to run to a crime scene or fly off to one. It’s hard to think of you any other way.”
She shifted in her seat so she could face him. “Tuck, listen. My life is perfect for me. I’ve realized over these past years that before I was just moving through it, waiting for the next big case, waiting to help you or Daddy. I never did anything just for me. Everything I did involved, or was concerned with, one of you. When Daddy died and I decided to leave, I was making the right decision for me. I’ve never looked back.”
“Never?”
“Not once. I have everything I could ever want here. It’s all I want.”
“Tell me the truth —”
“Like I would lie?” she said, smiling when he turned a bemused expression on her.
“No, you never have. Do you ever miss it, even for a minute?”
She watched the streets pass by as they drove through the downtown. “Every now and again,” she began, “I’ll see you on a morning show, or the national news will be profiling the newest case you and the Posse are involved in. I’ll watch you, in typical Tucker Petrie fashion, sail through the questions and make the capture and arrest look like a piece of easy detective work, a no-brainer. And I’ll think to myself: if the people seeing this only knew what it does to you inside, how it makes you feel to get down to the lowest depths of humanity and view the world from the most jaded, sickest minds imaginable; to comprehend what supposedly civilized human beings are capable of doing to one another, you wouldn’t want the job for anything.”
She stopped, turned to him, and saw his lips tighten.
“In answer to your question, Tuck, no. I never miss it. Not even for a millisecond.”
I know some authors who only consider a spreadsheet as an indication of how they are doing in their careers. How many book sales they’ve had; how many preorders on a new book coming out. And there’s nothing wrong with that. We didn’t go into the writing career to lose money, now did we? LOL
For me, though, my success – if you can call it that – has been more internal than the external monetary reward tract.
The very first time I ever had someone I didn’t know come up to me at a book signing and tell me they loved my book because the story or characters spoke to them, was a huge measure of personal success for me. I mean, we expect our family and friends to like what we write ( even though I don’t have many non-writing friends who read what I write, and no one in my family reads my books) when a total stranger who has nothing to gain by telling me that actually speaks those words, the internal orbit in my heart goes into the stratosphere!
I’ve entered more than my share of contests since I’ve been published and every time I win, place or even show in a contest based on writing, I feel successful because it means someone read my words with a critical eye and felt they were good enough to win some sort of prize.
So, not every measure of my personal success is measured in money or book sales.
Not that I’m saying those aren’t great, because…duh! LOL
So how do measure your own personal/professional success? I’d really like to know because I’m nosy that way!
Are you a romance reader? Or did you just stumble upon this blog because you were scrolling Google and liked the name? Hee hee.
I ask that question because for today’s Friday Five, I’m going to list the 5 books I recommend a novice romance reader read in order to discover what the genre is all about. Ready? Here ya go. My recs…
SHANNA “From New York Times bestselling author Kathleen E. Woodiwiss comes one of her most iconic and beloved romances of all time…A pact is sealed in secret behind the foreboding walls of Newgate Prison. In return for one night of unparalleled pleasure, a dashing condemned criminal consents to wed a beautiful heiress, thereby rescuing her from an impending and abhorred arranged union. But in the fading echoes of hollow wedding vows, a solemn promise is broken, as a sensuous free spirit takes flight to a lush Caribbean paradise, abandoning the stranger she married to face the gallows unfulfilled. Ruark Beauchamp’s destiny is now eternally intertwined with that of the tempestuous, intoxicating Shanna. He will be free . . . and he will find her. For no iron ever forged can imprison his resolute passion. And no hangman’s noose will keep Ruark from the bride— and ecstasy—that he craves.” This was the first real adult romance ( read: SEX!) I ever read. To this day I think I’ve reread it 25 times! Perfection from a master writer.
FRENCH SILK “When she becomes a murder suspect, a New Orleans beauty and lingerie tycoon must share her most deeply buried secrets with a disturbingly handsome district attorney in order to clear her name.
Like the city of New Orleans itself, Claire Laurent is a vibrant beauty laced with mystery. As the founder of French Silk, a fabulous lingerie company, she has fought hard to achieve worldwide success. Then a TV evangelist attacks French Silk’s erotic sleepwear as sinful. And when he is killed, Claire becomes the prime suspect.
District Attorney Robert Cassidy knows Claire is damning herself with lie after lie about the murder, even as he feels her drawing him into her world and her very soul. But neither Cassidy nor her protests of innocence can save Claire unless she reveals a shocking truth — one she has sworn to take to the grave . . .” Sandra Brown has been a one-click author for me since I read this book. Mystery, sex, romance, and a great story are the definition of an SB book!
THE NOTEBOOK “At thirty-one, Noah Calhoun, back in coastal North Carolina after World War II, is haunted by images of the girl he lost more than a decade earlier. At twenty-nine, socialite Allie Nelson is about to marry a wealthy lawyer, but she cannot stop thinking about the boy who long ago stole her heart. Thus begins the story of a love so enduring and deep it can turn tragedy into triumph, and may even have the power to create a miracle…” He’s called schmaltzy and vanilla-y in his writing, but this story is a love story for the ages!
THE THORN BIRDS “The Thorn Birds is a chronicle of three generations of Clearys—an indomitable clan of ranchers carving lives from a beautiful, hard land while contending with the bitterness, frailty, and secrets that penetrate their family. It is a poignant love story, a powerful epic of struggle and sacrifice, a celebration of individuality and spirit. Most of all, it is the story of the Clearys’ only daughter, Meggie, and the haunted priest, Father Ralph de Bricassart—and the intense joining of two hearts and souls over a lifetime, a relationship that dangerously oversteps sacred boundaries of ethics and dogma.” Hands down one of the best books every penned. A love story for the ages – forbidden love, family intrigue, secrets, and heartbreak, This book has it all!
DEVIL IN WINTER“I’m Sebastian, Lord St. Vincent. I can’t be celibate. Everyone knows that.” Desperate to escape her scheming relatives, Evangeline Jenner has sought the help of the most infamous scoundrel in London. A marriage of convenience is the only solution. No one would have ever paired the shy, stammering wallflower with the sinfully handsome viscount. It quickly becomes clear, however, that Evie is a woman of hidden strength—and Sebastian desires her more than any woman he’s ever known. Determined to win her husband’s elusive heart, Evie dares to strike a bargain with the devil: If Sebastian can stay celibate for three months, she will allow him into her bed. When Evie is threatened by a vengeful enemy from the past, Sebastian vows to do whatever it takes to protect his wife . . . even at the expense of his own life. Together they will defy their perilous fate, for the sake of all-consuming love.” So no one writes a steamy, LONG, love scene like Kleypas. The hottest scene in this book takes place with the h/h standing upright and against a door. I’ll leave it to you to go read it!!! Kleypas is another of my one-click authors. I don’t write historical romance, but I read it because of her!
So today’s blog throwback is from 2017. I was going to be presenting my first workshop for my local chapter of RWA and I was…to say the least…a basket case about it!
So this past Saturday I gave my first ever PowerPoint presentation to my local chapter of RWA.
To say I was nervous would be to do a disservice to the knocking in my knees and the way my heart was shooting extra beats.
I’ve spoken publically before, — hell, I use to teach Nursing to undergrads! – but I haven’t spoken publically in a very long time. In fact, I haven’t done anything publically in a very long time, not since I retired and started writing full time.
I think I was nervous because I didn’t want to screw up, be boring, or deliver a topic that didn’t appeal to the audience. I didn’t eat anything all day because I was terrified I’d hurl!
I’m sitting here to report (1) I did not hurl, (2) I was absolutely starving the minute the presentation ended! (3) my audience laughed, repeatedly and freely in all the appropriate spots (4) there was discussion about the topic – a lot of discussion, so YAY!, and (5) my audience seemed to genuinely like the presentation.
So, again, YAY!!!
Now I just have to get my nerve up again, because I’m giving this presentation again next month to another group.
But I’ll think about that…tomorrow. After all, tomorrow is another day.
When I’m not being overly dramatic, you can find me here:
I’m almost done with book 2 in the Heaven’s Matchmaker series, so here’s a little bit…
Twenty minutes later he came back upstairs to find her sitting in front of her laptop.
“So?” she asked.
“Good news/bad news. The wiring is fine. But you need to replace both units. They’re almost forty years old, according to the model info. It’s amazing they lasted as long as they did, but the washing machine’s got multiple issues and the dryer even more. It makes more economic sense to replace them both than to repair the issues. It’d be quicker, too.”
She blew out a breath, then flexed her neck side to side, as if stretching some kinks out. He crossed over to her when her hand slid up her neck to squeeze the back of it. “How long will it take to get replacement units?” she asked.
Before he answered and without asking for permission, he flattened his hands across her shoulders and began kneading.
If she was shocked or mad he was touching her she disregarded it, instead letting out a low, guttural moan.
“Oh, good Lord, that feels good.”
“You’re a network of knots back here, Layla.”
“Work hazard,” she mumbled, dropping her chin to her chest as he worked out a particularly tight muscle group. “I’ve been on the computer for a week, exclusively, doing all my work there.”
“How do you usually do it?” He dug his thumb into a mass of knots just below her hairline.
“Oh. Wow. You’re good at this.”
He grinned. “Muscle strains are part of my job. Now, answer me. If you don’t work at the computer all day, what are you usually doing?”
“Visiting showrooms, warehouses. Design stores. I meet face-to-face with clients. Do consults.”
None of which she’d done since she’d been in town.
She slid her neck to one side and he pressed in, deeply, on her scapula. A shudder ran through her that zinged right through his hands and up his arm, like he’d touched a live, sparking wire.
Layla groaned again. The sound, so erotic, so enticing, so damn…pleasure-filled drew a line straight to his dick and he hardened like a brick in an instant. He’d give anything to have her make that sound while he was inside her.
The thought sent an ice river cascading over him.
He lifted his hands, rubbed them together once, then shucked them in his pockets.
What had he been thinking to touch her like that? So boldly. So…intimately.
She’s a client. You need to remember that. No mixing business with fun.
He eased out a breath.
No matter how much fun it might be.
Layla, oblivious to his mounting lust, tipped her head left and right a few times and sighed before she turned around.
Luckily, his hoodie fell below his hips, obstructing the bulge agonizingly pressing against his jean fly.
“I don’t think my neck’s been this loose in weeks.” She lifted her gaze to his, a question in her eyes. “How’d you learn how to do that?”
“My ex was a physical therapist. She practiced on me when she was in school.” A gentle shoulder lift and he added, “Some of it –” he rolled his eyes “– rubbed off.”
That tiny grin she’d shown him previously, built and grew until her lips parted, revealing perfect teeth.
Cody swallowed as his groin grew even tighter.
She dipped her chin a hair as she continued her perusal of his face. Her breathing was a little too fast and when her pupils dilated he took a step forward, then stopped mid-stride.
Her grin flew, a worry line grooving the spot between her eyes as she hissed in a breath.
“Layla—”
“How long will it take to get a replacement washer and dryer?” she asked, the words rushing from her. “And please don’t say weeks.”
He shook his head to clear it. “I can have them here by lunchtime if you know what you want.”
“Really? How? I can’t imagine there’s an appliance store with that kind of inventory and same-day service in Heaven.”
“There isn’t. But there is the next town over. The owner and I went all through school together and because I bring him so much business he’s always willing to help with an emergency. And this qualifies as one.”
Thankful he had something to do instead of stand there, staring at her and wanting to do something to ease the ache in his pants, he pulled his phone from his back pocket and called up the store’s website. “Here.” He pointed to her desk. “Sit down and type in this web address. You can see the brands and models he offers. Decide what you want and I’ll give him a call to make sure everything’s in stock.”
She did as he asked and within fifteen minutes was assured both models would be delivered within the hour.
“I can’t believe this,” she said, when he disconnected the call. “Whenever I’ve dealt with dealers and businesses for merchandise for my clients, I always have to wait weeks, if not months, for the items.”
“You don’t live in a small town,” he said, lifting his toolbox again from where he’d left it in the hallway. “Those local connections go a long way toward making life easier. That old saw about one hand washing the other runs true here. Something you might consider if you decide to set up shop in Heaven.”
She stared across the room at him, a look he couldn’t decipher crossing her face.
“I’m gonna head up to the attic,” he told her. “See to those issues you mentioned. The delivery truck should be here in less than an hour.”
Worry. It was worry forming across her lips and pale skin.
“Can you be in charge of the delivery?” she asked, her voice shaking. It was subtle, and you’d have to know what she sounded like usually to actually hear it. But he did. “I mean,” she threaded her fingers together and pressed them against her tummy. “Since you know them, and everything. I’d just be in the way.”
Silently, he cursed her idiot ex- fiancé again. He doubted she’d ever worried a whit about not knowing deliverymen or anyone else for that matter. He could lay her hesitation and apprehension squarely on his indicted doorstep.
The asshole.
He’d give anything to wipe the worry and dread from her face.
“Give me a shout-out when they get here,” he told her. Relief drifted over her lovely face.
Good thing the idiot ex was in another state, incarcerated, because he really wanted to punch him in the face.
Stay tuned – publication date announcement coming…soon. At least I hope it is, lol!
This is a really great question, esp. for me. My motto has always been one I developed on my own; the Tao of NGU-NGI.
What it means is never give up, never give in.
I live by that, especially with my writing career. Oh, who am I kidding?! I also live it -strongly – in my personal life. Just ask anyone I’ve ever had an argument with, lol! Do you have a creed or motto you live by? Let me know and we can discuss it… ~ Peg
Peggy Jaeger, Author 