Category Archives: Other

Miscellaneous

Other

That First Kiss by Anne Carrole

As writers, we necessarily have to draw on our own experiences—with a little poetic license, of course. From your first kiss ever, to your first French kiss (oo-la-la) to your first kiss with your significant other—firsts are memorable, but sometimes for the wrong reasons.

My first ever kiss was when I was nine years old. Shocking isn’t it? But then I didn’t experience another one until I was sixteen so I’m chalking it up to curiosity or the boy, Frankie T., all of twelve, being a little, well, exuberant.

We were sitting in a tent in his backyard, sharing a bag of salty potato chips. How did he know that potato chips were my favorite snack?

I didn’t know him all that well, but he was very cute. He was always getting into scrapes, always very daring and adventurous. There were lots of neighborhood stories about Frankie T. These facts should have been clues as to what might happen, but a nine- year-old’s trouble antenna isn’t generally attuned to THAT kind of trouble yet.

He leaned close, looked right into my eyes and said, “Wanna, kiss?” My pulse rate, which was already thumping away just being in a tent with him, went into overdrive. I don’t remember saying anything, just staring into his golden brown eyes. Next thing I knew, his lips were on mine, salty and firm. He was kissing me. I held my lips tightly shut and barely moved. It was exciting—but nothing more. He kissed me again. This time, I remember, I didn’t find it exciting—just salty.

And my trouble antenna finally started bleeping. Before he could try again, I rose, grabbed a handful of chips (had to have those chips) and told him I had to go. Walking home I wondered about what I had done. And figured I probably shouldn’t have. So I never went over to Frankie’s again. And he never said more than hi to me. I probably wasn’t much of a kisser.

Still, for seven more years, I clung to the fact that I had at least been kissed once! And I can promise you, my kissing experience at sixteen went a whole lot better for both of us.

Sometimes, then, writers have to supplement their own experiences with a little research-of the virtual kind.

The web site Virtualkiss.com has a whole section devoted to first kiss stories, http://www.virtualkiss.com/stories/firstkiss. A quick perusal of sixty-five first kiss listings showed that the majority of people (40) were fourteen or under when they had their first kiss. Of them, twenty-seven experienced their first kiss at age thirteen or fourteen. Only one cited age nine. (My cheeks are red!)

And did you know that there are sites that will give you step-by-step instructions on kissing? Check out http://www.kissingnet.com/french-kissing-tips for matter-of-fact, fairly reasonable kissing instructions. Who knew?

Some of their suggestions include brushing your teeth and taking a bath—ahh, definitely. And “don’t bite. Just nibble. Whatever, you do, don’t bite.”—can’t argue with that.

But nothing beats the first kiss of the man you fall in love with. The heart-stopping, world jarring, lightening striking kiss of real love. Especially if you’re not expecting it!

In my story Re-ride at the Rodeo from The Wild Rose Press, Clay is a saddle bronc rider on the rodeo circuit looking for a good time when he spies a feisty little blonde who looks like she could use one. Unfortunately for him, Dusty wants nothing to do with a rodeo man. Her father did the circuit and he was never there for her—and then he died. Now she’s looking for a happily ever after that includes a white picket fence, not a horse trailer..

When Clay corners her in a honky-tonk parking lot and asks her why she hadn’t danced with him, she knows he’s looking for than just a dance.

He was going to kiss her. She knew it and still she rooted in place. Firm lips gently breezed across hers. The taste of hops filled her senses. His lips brushed again as his hand touched her shoulder and tugged her closer. She tingled clear to her toes. His lips pressed harder against hers, seeking a response. She opened and his tongue slid inside. A whimper of surrender escaped. He reacted to the sound by pressing her head closer to him, holding her for his taking as his mouth devoured her. She barely noticed the stubble of his beard scraping her cheek.

“So sweet,” he mumbled against her lips. Strong fingers threaded through her hair. Hot and hungry, he deepened the kiss as he fitted her between his legs and moved against her like he couldn’t get enough, like he was ready to swallow her up.

Her legs weakened.

Instinctively, she wrapped her arms around his neck, skimmed her fingers through the hair that feathered his collar, and hung on, giving into the desire for a connection with someone warm and willing. Need pounded within her. It had been such a long while since Bradley.

Clay’s hands, hot and heavy, moved to her waist as his mouth drank her in. One hand slid across her back and pressed her nearer, while the other inched near her breasts. His thumb rubbed against her nipple. A jolt of sensation shot through her, and her mind switched on.

What was she doing?

So do you have a “kiss” story to share—first or otherwise? Or maybe there was a particular book you read or movie you watched that had a memorable kissing scene? Inquiring minds want to know so please share with us in the comment section.

Thanks for stopping by!

Anne Carrole writes both contemporary and western historical romance and is co-founder of the popular website, www.lovewesternromances.com. For more about what Anne is up to, stop in at http://www.annecarrole.com

Other

Keeping up with the times… by Christine Bush

All of a sudden, I’m reminding myself of my grandmother. Uh oh.

My grandmother used to talk so much about how things were in the “good old days”, and as a kid, my eyes would roll back in my head. She talked about motorcars that had no turn signals, and the fact that only one family on the block had a phone.   An ice box was actually an ice box.  She wrote thank you notes on nice smelling pink paper, with an aged ink pen.

“These things were perfectly fine.  Why, oh why, do they have to change?”

She spent the older years of her life very baffled by television remote controls (“Where’s the wire? How does this contraption work?”), credit cards (“How does that little card know how much you have in the bank? Don’t they need to see the money?”) and froze at even the sight of a computer. ( “What WILL they think of next?”)

We smiled at her questions, and spoke (ok, sometimes condescendingly) about how old folks have so much  trouble adapting to the new.  They just can’t “keep up with the times.” Sigh

Onward, upward,we must embrace the inventions and improvements of our society.

I wrote my first three books on a turquoise blue portable manual Olivetti Underwood typewriter that had been a graduation present.  Black ribbon. No correction function. Maybe I was high on the smell of white out.  The lovely sound of each key hitting the paper (except the “e” which was a little off, but who cares), and swinging the little bar to return the carriage after each line.  Honest.  Three books. I loved that typewriter.  You had to REALLY want to write to finish a book like that.  Sigh.

When I discovered my first writing group, I thought I was in heaven.  Every month, I LONGED to go to the meeting, desperate to meet and visit with other creative minds. There was no way to communicate realistically in between. Long distance was expensive.  No such thing as email back in those early days.  We all just showed up.  In person. Sigh.

“These things were perfectly fine.  Why, oh why, do they have to change?”

Onward, upward, we must embrace the inventions and improvements of our society.

So I did. Today I love my computer, survive by email, cell phone, and plastic.  Haven’t I kept up with the times so far?  Sigh.

Now book trailers? Kindles? On line workshops? Blogging? I panic.

The knowledgeable young ones smile at my questions (ok, sometimes condescendingly) and tell me I have to adapt to the new. Technology is here to stay.  I must CONTINUE to keep up with the times.

So I will.  I will try to stop sounding like my grandmother quite yet.  But I have to admit, there is still this panicked  little voice echoing in my head.  “What WILL they think of next?”

But meanwhile, I’m blogging.  How about you?

Other

Good Luck by Cris Anson

Ah, Friday the 13th. Generator of bad-luck legends and B movies. To me the date has meant good luck ever since I met my husband on one of those star-crossed days a long, long time ago.

So okay, we only had some twelve years together before he died, but I was fortunate enough to be struck by Cupid’s dart twice and I spent another twenty-two years with Real-Life Hero #2 before he, too, passed.

But as I muse on this humongous circle from then to today, I realize that this date has been good luck for me, in the way making a silk purse out of a sow’s ear is good. Unlikely, but good. Because of that first traumatic loss way back when, I began a diary wherein I raged at God and the world, where I poured out my heart and transferred all my emotion from brain to pen to page (yes, this was before I owned a typewriter, never mind a computer).

One day I looked back at all I had written and realized there was a story there. Somewhere. A story that, having bought a used IBM Selectric (remember them? With the bouncing ball of type?), I began pulling out of my brain. Elite 12 type much smaller than the Courier 10 of traditional submissions, 512 pages’ worth squeezed 27 lines per page—probably in the neighborhood of 130,000 words, but who knew to count?— I shipped it off with a feeling of accomplishment.

Can you say “crushed”? I was, when I promptly received a rejection, saying it sounded like…a diary. A story needed a beginning, a middle and an end, it said, and yours had nothing but rambling. Unsaid was, “and don’t bother us again.”

After crying and moping for several days (“this is REAL LIFE! A story doesn’t get any more emotional than this!”) I noticed the local community college offered a writing class, so I paid my tuition and went. Talk about eye-opener. When I read parts of this rejected masterpiece to the class, one of the critiquers said, “I was bored.”

I was crushed. Again.

So began a long journey to publication. Twelve years of assiduously applying butt to chair, of joining writers’ groups and critique groups, of form-letter rejections (one recipient even sent back my SASE with a stamped “No thanks” on the envelope and nothing inside), then of more personal rejections like “Send me the next thing you write”, and finally, ACCEPTANCE!

Everyone’s path is different—through life, to publication. What I’ve learned in both cases, every aspiring author has probably heard time and time again. Never. Give. Up. I gave up writing at least two dozen times, both before and after The Call. Ask KQ.

By the way, I’m still giving up. After #2 beloved died, I didn’t write for two years. Couldn’t get excited over some fictional person’s problems or love life. Then I felt strong enough to retire from my day job, which had given me a reason to get up every morning, and I slogged through another year of…nothing. Oh, sure, I read 226 books in 2008, but didn’t start writing again until the sun began shining longer into the afternoon last month and I realized I must have had Seasonal Affective Disorder (blame anything except myself!). So now that Spring is almost here, I have no excuse.

Yes, to those who may think to ask. Yes, I’m finishing Rolf’s story (the youngest of the Thorvald brothers in my DANCE series). Yes, I’m writing a novella of a scandalous triangle set, of all places, in 1693 Massachusetts Bay Colony. Yes, I have a heroine and an inciting incident for the son of my hero in SECOND BEST and will get to Cliff’s story soon.

For I have come full circle. I’m writing again, I’m out in the world and looking for love again, and Friday the 13th seems a good time to talk about it. Because luck is what you make it.

—Cris Anson’s DANCE series for Ellora’s Cave consistently garnered five-star reviews. Her latest releases, for Cerridwen Press, feature twin brothers: FIRST TO DIE (an “Outstanding Read” from Simply Romance Reviews and a “Golden Blush Recommended Read” from Literary Nymphs Reviews) and SECOND BEST (five bookmarks from Wild On Books). Read more on her website, www.crisanson.com or at www.myspace.com/crisanson

Other

How Today’s Headlines Can Become Tomorrow’s Historical Romances By Debra Mullins

I’ve always subscribed to the theory that writers are like sponges. We absorb the world around us, whether that means the news reports or the song on the radio or the couple at the next table in the restaurant who look as if they are having a fight. As writers, we take that one little headline or line from the song or body language of that couple, and we add to it. Expand on what we have observed with the writer’s favorite question “What if…”

 

Humankind is an ever evolving race in the way we do things, and yet with each stride we take, beneath the surface there is a hard-coded core of unchanging beliefs that have driven people since the beginning of time. This is why soap operas can stay on the air for twenty years or more, or why genres in books and movies cycle around. How many times have you heard this: “Well, that’s not selling very well right now, but hang on to it because it will be back again.”

 

The more things change, the more they stay the same.

 

People love and live and want the same things now as they did centuries ago. Everyone wants to be loved. People want security, to know they can live their lives without fear of losing their homes or not being able to feed their children (a challenge in today’s economy). And if something terrible happens to a person, our fast-paced twenty-first century culture helps us recognize the problems more quickly—and we have different tools with which to deal with them.

 

I write historical romances. The bulk of my work has taken place in the Regency time period in England. So how can I get ideas that are fresh and contemporary yet can be reflected in the historical time period where my stories take place?

 

Back to good old What If.

 

A few years ago I got an idea from a well-publicized news story about a kidnapping. The young girl in question was recovered alive, and it was clear she had been through a horrible ordeal. Yet every time I saw her on the news, she was smiling. My first thought was that if she was able to smile like that, she must have a great therapist helping her work through the trauma of her abduction—and thank God for that. I mean, how could she have begun to heal without people who knew how to guide her? What if there were no such thing as therapists? How would she have coped?

 

That little ‘what if’ question led to a book called JUST ONE TOUCH, about the daughter of a wealthy duke who was kidnapped but recovered alive. She coped by holing up at her father’s estate and never going out on society, but when her father learns he is dying, he must arrange a marriage for her so he knows she will be cared for when he is gone.

 

Modern headline, historical story.

 

My upcoming release (TO RUIN THE DUKE, June 2009) creates a historical story from another modern topic—identity theft. The Duke of Wyldehaven has been sequestered at his estate for more than a year, mourning the deaths of his wife and unborn child. Called to London to attend the funeral of a friend, he discovers that someone who closely resembles him is impersonating him—running up bills in his name, causing scandals and—as he discovers when the heroine enters the story—fathering children! So identity theft is alive and well in the Regency time period.

 

Again, modern headline, historical twist.

 

Ideas are all around us. We absorb them naturally due to our natures as writers. But if you write a genre that is not taking place in today’s contemporary place and culture, you can still use these ideas.

 

Maybe the guy impersonating your character is actually the same man, but from the future. Now you have a paranormal story. Or maybe my guy was replaced with a clone or an alien being for your science fiction book. Or maybe the person stealing his identity (and his face!) is a thousand year old demon who plans on killing everyone in town—for your horror novel, of course.

 

With the right twist, anything can lead to a story!

BIO:

Debra Mullins is the award-winning author of eleven historical romances for Avon.  She has been writing seriously for seventeen years and recently signed a new contract with Avon for two more historical romances. Read an excerpt of her new book at www.debramullins.com.

Other

The Lies Always Get You in the End by Kiersten Hallie Krum

Mining Ideas from the Strangest of Places

Whenever one reveals oneself to others as a writer, inevitably the question arises: Where do you get your ideas?

Me? From lying to other people.

This is how my first manuscript began.

I was part of a women’s choir at my undergraduate college. One year we kicked off the new school year with a retreat weekend. The Friday night games were to begin with an icebreaker designed to introduce the old and new members to one another.

This involved pre-retreat prep. We were to write down one thing about ourselves that wasn’t well known and turn that item in to the choir president (Melody – no pun intended) prior to the weekend. Melody made a list of all these traits and passed it out sans names. We were then to go around the room asking only one question of each person until we could match up every item on the list to its owner.

I could not think of a single applicable trait. There were things that no one knew about me, but that was deliberate. All safe options failed to seem pithy enough for submission. Frustrated with my delay, Melody finally ordered me to make one up.

On the night in question, I avoided the whole matter by hiding in the kitchen helping Melody cook an Italian dinner that had ended up being delayed and overly involved. (Quick tip: never deny promised food to a group of hungry women. Not. Pretty.) We cooked and sweated and laughed a lot that night, no small bit of which was Melody needling me about my fib. This inevitably bit us in the butt when our friend and fellow kitchen helper, Heidi, posed a genuine question.

What exactly had I written down?

Melody was no help, suspiciously hiding her face in the fumes of a saucepot, and I finally had to admit that I had spent the previous summer hitch-hiking cross-country, hanging out with various bikers and truckers along the way. In the fall of 1991, as a conservatively raised 19-year-old sophomore (oh, so long ago), anyone who knew me would know that this was a patently absurd notion. Melody (who did know me) snorted from her position at the stove. Heidi, always ready to believe the best of people, took my blatant fiction as truth.

“Wow,” she said. “I bet you met a lot of really interesting people.” I remember pausing to check that she was serious. How could she not know I was making it up? When I realized that she was indeed sincere, I had a quick second to decide whether to confess my creative license or just go with it.

I went with it.

Me: Yeah, I did. There are real people underneath all that leather and tattoos. It really taught me not to judge a book by its cover. (I kid you not the “book…cover” cliché is a direct quote.)

Heidi: I can totally see that.

At this point, Melody stuck a plate in Heidi’s hands and sent her out of the kitchen.

Melody (to me): You are very bad.

Me: I can’t believe she bought that.

Melody: Are you going to tell her the truth?

Me: Where’s the fun in that?

Melody: You are going to hell.

Thing is, the more I thought on it, the better an idea it became for a short story. But since I never wrote anything short in my life it wound up being more of a novella. I submitted it to the literary magazine at school and they rejected it (my first rejection!) as they should because it was terrible. But I kept at it – mostly when I should have been studying – and it evolved into a novel and about ten years later I finally finished it.

It was still terrible.

Now I’ve returned to that first, earnest manuscript to reshape and redevelop it into a viable story. My 1991 self may be long gone but that initial idea is still valid and has served as a starting point for characters whose stories still plague me to tell. I also feel a faint wobbly obligation to Heidi to make something real from her naïve belief in my deception. It helps that today’s me writes better than my younger incarnation, though I have become, over the years, much better at lying. Which is bad; lying is bad, BAD I say.

Ahem.

Ideas can come from all kinds of different places. I can’t always rely on a handy icebreaker to clue me in, so I keep a folder of interesting news items that strike a chord with me. Reading wedding announcements and obits can offer good hooks, too as I’ve only recently learned. I look around at my world and mine ideas from it. The eccentric admin at work, the woman trudging up a short driveway with a large, blue, overfilled cloth bag hooked over her shoulder that I drove past on the way to work, that absurd trip to buy a Christmas tree; all those things that you just can’t make up. Make something up from them instead. Keep a notebook in your purse or pocket and jot down the things or events that linger. Life offers all kinds of launching points for writers.

Dive on in.

By the way – something not too many people know about me?

I alphabetize my cash money.

Kiersten Hallie Krum is a pre-published writer of romantic suspense fiction. During the daylight hours, her secret identity works as a pharmaceutical advertising editor and a back cover copy writer of romantic fiction. She anxiously awaits the right agent/editor to make her dreams come true. Read more of Kiersten’s thoughts on writing and the world around her at www.twolftshoes.blogspot.com.

Other

The Shifting Popularity of Genres by Melinda Leigh

Lately I’ve done a lot of thinking about the shifting popularity of fiction genres. Do they reflect the current social condition? Or do people simply need a change now and then?

Are paranormals popular because people are seeking an escape from their whole world? Does it take more of a fantasy element for people to get out of their own heads during stressful times? I’ve also heard on various loops/blogs that comedy is making a comeback. I assume in tough times, people have a harder time getting a good laugh. I

I’ve always loved comedy, even the most inane. My mother-in-law loves movies and books about people dying of diseases. You’d have to duct tape me to the chair to keep me in the same room.

In horror, I’ve always chosen movies and books with supernatural, bordering on silly, creatures and villains. My brain thinks it’s okay to be scared by things that don’t exist. My favorite is Lake Placid. Gotta love a forty-foot crocodile that takes a wrong turn and accidentally migrates into a lake in Maine. But Friday the 13th? No way. That could actually happen. I don’t need anything else to keep me up at night.

Does anyone else have rationality for the type of entertainment they like best? And does it change based on your personal situation?

Melinda Leigh is an award-winning, yet unpublished, writer of mainstream-leaning romantic suspense novels.

http://www.melindaleighauthor.com/

Other

Dreams and Desires by Lois Winston

Dreams. Desires. We all have them. What are yours? Ever think what you’d wish for if someone handed you a magic lantern and a genie popped out? I have.

Wish No. 1 — To Rule the World.

If I ruled the world, there would be no hate, no wars, no poverty, no violence or crime of any kind. But the chances of me getting elected Queen of the Universe are pretty slim. Darn it!

Wish No. 2 — To Have Lots of Money.

Bill Gates or Warren Buffet type money. Not because I want a yacht or lots of bling or a penthouse in Manhattan (okay, being a diehard city girl, I’d really like a penthouse in Manhattan but there’s no way that’s ever going to happen given the price of NY real estate, not to mention the state of my 401K, thanks to the market meltdown!) No, I want lots of money so I can give it away to people in need. Unfortunately, very few of us authors make enough money to quit our day jobs, let alone have discretionary income to donate anything substantial to worthy causes.

Wish No. 3 — To Make a Difference.

Which brings me to the reason for this blog. When I come across something I can do that doesn’t involve writing a check so small my contribution seems meaningless, I jump at the chance. Such was the case when I was asked to contribute to Dreams & Desires.

Dreams & Desires is a series of anthologies that have been published the last three years by Freya’s Bower. All of the net proceeds — that’s 100% of the profit — from the sales of the anthologies go directly to battered woman’s shelters across the country. I am proud to have taken part in all three anthologies to date. Dreams & Desires, Volume 1 benefited a shelter in Florida, and Dreams & Desires, Volume 2 benefited a shelter in California. The proceeds of Dreams & Desires, Volume 3, this year’s anthology, will benefit St. Bernard’s Battered Woman’s Shelter in New Orleans. This shelter was recently rebuilt after sustaining heavy damage from Hurricane Katrina.

Did you know that 95% of abuse victims are women? Every year four million women are assaulted by their spouses or partners. When Freya’s Bower invited me to participate in the Dreams & Desires anthologies, I jumped at the chance to add my voice to a cause that will help break the cycle of abuse. By doing something I do all the time — writing — I can MAKE A DIFFERENCE. Wish No. 3 can come true. I know it’s a small step, but no goal is reached without taking that first step. Maybe the money raised will only help one person break the cycle of abuse, but that will be one less abused person, and that’s a huge achievement.

Wouldn’t you like to make a difference, too? You can by purchasing a copy of Dreams & Desires. And as an added bonus to contributing to such a worthy cause, you’ll be rewarded with 16 great short stories by some of today’s rising authors (in alphabetical order): Shobhan Bantwal, Marci Baun, Jenna Bayley-Burke, Mychael Black, Amanda Brice, M.E. Ellis, Gemma Halliday, Candace Havens, Babe King, Bonnie Kinsey, Adelle Laudan, Susan Lyons, Debbie Mumford, Kari Lee Townsend, Lois Winston, and Barbara Witek. The forward was written by multi-published crime fiction and true crime author Carol Anne Davis.

My contribution to the anthology is I’ll Never Fall In Love Again!!!

Chloe Bradford is so unlucky at love, she’s sworn off men for good. She’s even embroidered a sampler to remind herself, lest she feel tempted to stray back into the landmine field of dating. Then she spends a long night in a hospital emergency waiting room…

For links to purchase either an e-book version or paperback copy of Dreams & Desires, Vol. 3 or any of the previous volumes, please go to www.loiswinston.com .

And may all your own dreams and desires come true.

* * *

Award-winning author and literary agent Lois Winston has published humorous, cross-genre, contemporary novels, romantic suspense and non-fiction essays. She also writes mysteries, women’s fiction, and middle grade books, often drawing upon her extensive experience as an artist and crafts designer for her source material. Visit her at www.loiswinston.com.