Today’s five are a little self-reveling about my writing career. I’m gonna have to bite the bullet and realize I could embarrass myself here, but hey: it wouldn’t be the first time, LOL!
Okay, here we go.
My first book was published when I was 55 years old, not the typical age. Most published writers are published waaay before this age and are hitting their pinnacles before it. I’m a late bloomer. Like, a Christmas cactus, lol.
I enjoy writing sex scenes. For me it’s all about the emotion of the scene not what goes into where and who touches which body part. Although, for full disclosure, there’s some of that, too!
I do the majority of my new writing between the hours of 2 and 7 a.m. because I still suffer from menopause-induced insomnia. Yeah, it’s a thing.
I talk out loud when I am writing, especially when I write dialogue. Which is why I don’t go anywhere like cafes, Starbucks, or even the library when I write. People would call the police if I did and report a crazy, talking to-herself woman was disturbing the peace.
When I start a new book it takes me about 2-3 weeks to write the first 10,000 words.I go slow at the beginning because I am getting to know my characters and get the feels for what they would do, how they would talk, and where I want to take them, emotionally. After that, I kinda hit my stride and can do anywhere between 2k and 5k daily if I put my mind to it and have the energy.
I’m adding a 6th because I want to – I like to write in bed and can do up to 1000 words an hour when I decide to stay in bed for a morning session after my hubby goes to work. With Maple by side, snoring, I find my creative energy is high because my body is so relaxed.
Book launches either sneak up on me or they drag out forever, just waiting for release day.
With Retribution, it felt like it was going to take forever, and now, tomorrow is book release day and I can’t believe i haven’t done more to promote the launch.
Some day, I will have a PR team to help with all this.
Some day, I will have the time to do an effective launch, one that truly sells more than 5 or ten books.
Some day, the 1000 book preorder goal I keep setting myself up for ( and failing, horribly!! lol) will actually manifest.
Doesn’t look like tomorrow is any of those above days, but it is release day, and that just never gets old in my book!
This one’s been ruminating in my brain for years!! Years, I tell ya.
Okay. None of us like unsolicited advice. I don’t, especially. I never listen to it and I rarely accept it. But over the years, when I’ve told people I write for a living, these are just some of the things I’ve been told or that have been said to me in the guise of being good advice I should listen to – and my mental, unspoken, responses.
I’ll let you decide if they are snarky. ( I think they are!)
No one reads books. ( I beg to differ since…BOOKTOK!)
No one can afford a book. ( Um, that Starbucks grande in your hand costs more than an ecopy of my books. WAaaaaaaay more.)
You’ll never be able to support yourself writing. (Want to see my tax returns?)
Romance books are only for single women who can’t get a man. They probably have cats, too. ( My hand to God, I almost punched this guy in the mouth. I had to seriously think, “get behind me, Satan” before I did!)
Aren’t you embarrassed to have people know you write that smut? ( This one still makes me laugh. I mean…have you read me??? Smut?? Me?? Some of my books don’t even have a hand-holding scene, LOL!!!)
Believe it or not, there are waaaaaaaay more of these I could share. But I’m not going to give them breath.
Don’t be an emotional hoarder ( or a physical one, if we’re going to be serious about it! LOL)
We all hang on to things; emotions; grudges. Those are toxic to your ability to move forward and really serve no purpose but to keep you stuck.
We also hang on to ideas or ideologies that prevent us from becoming who we are meant to be and from propelling us into the future we want. SELF DOUBT is the major one, in my opinion.
Just like you should let go of negative things, you should do the same with people. People are either for you or against you. Don’t stick with the against-you ones in the hope they will change.
Here’s a horrible but true fact: they won’t.
One of my favorite mantras is let go and let God. Leave those negative Nellies to God to deal with as you move forward to be the best you, you can be.
I believe in you. Now…learn to believe in yourself.
Just because I’ve been published, that doesn’t mean I ever stop learning the craft of writing. I didn’t have an English degree ( I went the Nursing route) so there are many things I’ve had to learn as I’ve been along the journey of writing like scene structure, proper grammar, even punctuation.
These are the 5 books that have helped me along my journey and I refer to them often, even to this day.
NAUGHTY WORDS FOR NICE WRITERS by Cara Bristol ( A Sexual and Spanking Thesaurus)
SEXY WORDS FOR WRITERS by Stefanie Olsen
ROMANCE TROPES AND HOOKS by Karen WInter
THE TROPE THESAURUS by Jennifer Hilt
SELF-EDITING FOR FICTION WRITERS by Renni Brown and Dave King
These books are dog eared, and highlighted beyond recognition, hee hee
Recently on Facebook, I saw a post that was shared hundreds of times called THE DECLUTTER CHALLENGE, a 30-day challenge to get rid of clutter and stuff in your life. A random sampling of the days’ tasks includes: purging 2 kitchen cabinets (day 7); cleaning out your wallet (day 9) and your purse ( day 10); cleaning out the freezer ( day 18); donating unused toys ( day 25). The challenge ends on day thirty with the simple task of CLEAN. I guess what you clean is up to you, but I took it to mean, clean your house.
This challenge, naturally, got me to thinking about how I could declutter my writing. All writers have catch words or phrases they like to use, especially when writing dialogue. If we actually wrote how we spoke, the readers would be bored out of their gourds. For instance, would you seriously want to spend money on a book where every dialogue started like this:
#1. Hey, Bill. How are you?
#2. Fine, Jim. How are you?
#3. Can’t complain. How’s the family?
#4. Doing well. Yours?
#5. Same, same. So how, about those Red Sox?…
you get the idea. This is drivel. We may speak like this in real life, but in fiction, it’s a death knoll.
So that’s one way to declutter your work: check the dialogue. Can you get the idea across without all the folderol of “hi, how you doing’s?”
Another way I know I personally clutter up my writing is by using too many extraneous words to convey my thoughts. A quick search of my current work in progress yielded this:
the use of THAT – 89 times
the use of To her/to him/ for her/for him -56 times
the use of adverbs ( the bane of my writing existence) 91 times. EEK!
I really need to work on decluttering these words, don’t I! Hee hee
Other things that writers should declutter are phrases like “seemed to,” “tried to,” “began to.” Writing is much stronger and moves quicker when sentences are declarations and use an active tense.
For example: Her natural, spicy scent seemed to surround her body.
Better example: Her natural, spicy scent of ginger and peach, surrounded her.
Other words that can probably be eliminated a fair amount of time and still allow the sentence to convey what it needs to are:
move, push, reach, bring, pull, went, brought, press and came( to denote going or coming from somewhere)
It’s a good practice to utilize the SEARCH for options in your word processing program to nit pick and eliminate words you use excessively after your first draft is written. This will make the editing process more about the story line and capturing what you intended to say instead of needing to remove excess words.
Oh, about that 30-day Declutter challenge. yeah, I survived for three days. Then I was exhausted. Maybe I should develop a 12 month declutter challenge. You know…do one thing a month instead of 30 in 30 days? Thoughts? LOL
When I’m not decluttering my life and my writing, you can find me here:
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.”
Peggy Jaeger, Author 