Thanks, Terri, for having me on your lovely
blog. I am a romance writer and I love my job. Actually, it’s my lifelong dream
or has been since the sixth grade.
I retired
early, at the age of 60, from my job as a technical writer when I married a man
I’d met online. Two old fogies looking for love on the internet. Can you dig
it? Calvin was already retired from teaching and spending his days writing. He
wanted me to do the same, to realize my long-held dream, too. Now with a degree
in English and years as a technical writer, I certainly knew how to craft a
sentence. What I didn’t know what the craft of writing.
Point of view? Didn’t everyone use
omniscient? Nora does. Head hopping? What on earth do you mean? Character arc?
Are we talking electrical wires here? What do you mean? GMC? Oh, I know that…a
truck, right?
Turned out I didn’t know as much about
writing as I thought.
I began reading books on the craft. I also
took one or two online workshops a month. I’ve just started one offered via
Savvy Authors on “Mining for Deep Emotions.” I feel one of my many weaknesses
is pulling out emotions.
So, what have I learned these last four
years?
I’ve learned the power of point of view.
Point of view (pov) is more than whose head are we in, it’s the power we use to
pull our reader deep into the story. So deep, in fact, they don’t want to put
the story down. To me, the best compliment is when a reader says, “I read it
all in one sitting. I couldn’t stop. I felt like I was right there.”
We all have our own way of crafting our
characters. For me, I begin from the inside out. If choosing your character’s
looks or job is your starting point, and it works for you, then it’s right for
you. I begin by choosing my character’s point of pain. We all have them: A
painful experience in our past that defines us and influences how we act and
react to situations and other people.
For example, if you were heavy as a
teenager and worked hard to lose the weight as an adult, you’re going to react
one of two ways when you meet obese individuals. Either you’re going to recall
your own pain and be sensitive to that person’s plight of being the butt of
jokes; or seeing them is going to remind you of past pain and make you think if
you could lose the weight, so can they. And you’ll be less sympathetic.
Past pain doesn’t always stem from
childhood. Sometimes it can be as recent as last year when someone you loved
walked away.
Once I nail down my hero and heroine’s
points of pain, I decide on how they look and what they do to make the world a
better place.
These points of pain help me get into
character when I write. For when I’m writing, I AM that character. I allow that
point of pain to fester in my soul as I write. If my hero is a man who’s lost
buddies and part of a limb in war, I dwell on that as I write chapters in his
pov. I try to think as a man would and if I’m unsure, I call my two alpha male
sons and throw out the situation to them. I pay attention to the lingo they
use. I insert it into my story along with their attitudes.
If I’m writing about a woman with a chip on
her shoulder because she was the middle sister, ignored in favor of her older
beautiful sibling and her younger sweet and bubbly sister, I don that bitchy,
over-reactionary chip when I’m writing sections written in her head.
All of this falls under the heading of
point of view. It helps our characters leap off the page, full of sass and
attitude. We know why they act this way and, in many cases, can identify. This
makes them more real.
So, when I wrote A TASTE OF CHOCOLATE, I stepped into my characters’ hearts and took
on Hope and Declan’s pain.
A
TASTE OF CHOCOLATE
is the kick-off story for The Match Maker series at Still Moments Publishing,
where a magical coffee shop comes into play. Freya, the owner, is a matchmaker.
She brings souls together, and then when the heroine returns to thank her or
ask for more advice, the coffee shop is not there. What she finds is a weeded,
empty lot.
The premise of the series called to me—and
brought its own set of challenges. I’d never written this “short” before, under
12,000 words, and never written anything remotely fanciful. Normally I write
sensual to “hawt” contemporaries, historical and romantic suspense. A TASTE OF CHOCOLATE is a sweet romance,
not because that’s what the series requirements were, but because the storyline
simply called for it.
I’d like to share a quote from Freya as she
and Hope are coming to the end of their conversation.
“A man’s kiss should taste like chocolate, dark flavor melting,
doing sensual things to you.”
–Freya, the Matchmaker
Blurb:
Hope Morningstar has the worst luck with
men. One boyfriend wrote her a “Dear
John” letter while serving overseas. Her latest romantic interest broke up with
her in a text. When a traffic detour puts her in an unfamiliar neighborhood,
she stops at Freya’s Coffee Shop where she gets more than directions. She gets
another chance at finding love.
Declan Fleming, scarred by a cheating
ex-wife, has given up searching for love. He’s taken the route of a few other
men and engaged the services of Freya, the matchmaker. Still, he’s been waiting
for a year and he’s just about given up hope. Then Freya sends him Hope.
When feelings of insecurity and trust
issues come into play, can finding love stand a chance? Can the magical
influence of this matchmaker create a happy ending? After all, finding that one
special love often involves a bit of special magic, does it not?
EXCERPT with a
brief set-up. Freya arranged for Hope to meet Declan in the food court of a
large mall. He shows up with purple roses and irises, telling her purple roses
stand for love at first sight and irises are the flower of hope.
A
warm hand settled in the middle of her back, escorting her out of the eating
area. “So, we’re going shopping, are we? Are you up for a movie later? I
checked, and there’s a new chick flick playing.”
Her
gaze rose to his as she held his bouquet to her nose to enjoy their fragrance
again. “Do you enjoy chick flicks, Declan Fleming?” Somehow, with just his hand
splayed on her back, he had her tucked against his shoulder. Heat radiated off
him. It was like being held in half an embrace while walking through the mall.
“Not
really. I prefer thrillers and action flicks.” He stopped at a display in the
window of a men’s clothing store. “The more explosions, the better. Let’s go in
here for a sec. I need a couple pairs of shorts.” He led her to a rack of solid
color pants.
“Plaids
are in right now.” Or so Barclay claimed.
“I
prefer something more manly.” He snatched two pair of khakis off the rack.
“Let’s go. I’m done.”
“Already?
You’re getting two identical pairs of shorts?”
“Yes,
when a man sees something he likes, he sticks to it.”
“At
least get one pair in green or navy.” She held out a pair of Army green shorts.
“Are
you a bossy woman, Hope Morningstar?”
That
stung, considering her thoughts earlier. She crossed her arms under her
breasts. “Comes with the territory. I’m a school teacher. Second grade.”
He
inclined his head, his lips against her ear, and the smell of masculine soap
creating all manner of feminine sensations. “Don’t look now, teach, but I’m a
grown man.” Just to prove his point, he yanked another identical pair of shorts
off the rack and headed for the cashier.
“And
stubborn, I see.” Three pair of identical khaki shorts. Really?
“Alpha
males usually are.” He pulled folded bills from his pocket and slipped off his
silver money clip that held a military emblem.
When
she leaned closer she saw the word SEAL. An
ex-SEAL, if the length of his hair is any indication. Interesting.
“I’m
not one of your students you can push around. You’ll get further with me using
kindness than being bitchy.”
She
narrowed her eyes. The nerve! What
did Freya tell her? That she’d have to show strength. “I won’t be put down.” By
golly, she’d had enough of trying to measure up to male expectations.
He
snatched his bag from the cashier. “Neither will I. We get that straight from
the get-go and we ought to get along just fine. Honesty, respect, and
consideration. Three important building blocks for any relationship.”
Her
temper was in full bloom now. They’d only met a few minutes ago. “It’s a tad
soon to be talking about a relationship, don’t you think? I’m not even sure I
like you.”
Evidently
he chose to ignore her remark, even though a muscle in his jaw bunched. “How
long have you been teaching?”
“Three
years. What do you do for a living?”
“I
handcraft wood furniture. In the fall, I also coach football at a private high
school.”
“Were
you once a SEAL? I saw your money clip.”
“Yes,
in another life.” He didn’t elaborate.
