Silk & Shadows

For those looking for some fun summer reading, here’s some recent reads that I’m giving my personal stamp of approval:

The Bunnicula Collection by Deborah and James Howe

I encountered this 25th anniversary edition as an audio book read by Victor Garber. It contains three short novellas: Bunnicula: a Rabbit Tale of Mystery, Howliday Inn, and The Celery Stalks at Midnight. These stories are told from the point of view of Harold, the family dog. Other characters include Chester, the well-read, haughty, and over-imaginative tabby and the family rabbit who quite possibly is one of the evil undead. Blanched zombie vegetables are also a sinister feature. The phrase I keep coming back to in describing these tales is simply charming. They’re loopy, smart, and light-hearted–great for kids and adults.

The Greyfriar by Clay and Susan Griffith

The best I can do to describe this book is dystopic steampunk alternate history with vampires and magic. I was hooked. There’s a streak of romance that’s touching and surprising. The authors have created fabulous characters for this adventure, and I’ll certainly be reading the next instalment. Highly recommended for readers tired of the same old vampires.

Phoenix Rising by Pip Ballantine and Tee Morris

Steampunk again, but this time set in nineteenth-century London’s Ministry for Peculiar Occurrences. The protagonists are archivist Wellington Books and his slightly off-the-rails partner, Eliza Braun. From the cover, I was expecting a frenetic romp, and it does make me grin as I read. But, I’m about halfway through and there’s a solid plot in amongst the magical artefacts hidden in the Ministry’s underground library. As well as being fun, this book has an entertaining cast and a cold case mystery to solve.

After two and a half years of blogging here at Silk and Shadows, it’s unfortunately time for me to say goodbye. I’m still writing fiction and still blogging over at my own website, but life is forcing me to scale back a bit.

Celebrating romance novels and dark, delicious heroes with you has been a lot of fun. I’ve truly enjoyed the opportunity to meet the avid readers and writers who visit the blog. I’ve met some wonderful people—including the wonderful authors who’ve blogged with me, Sharon Ashwood, Kim Lenox, and Jessa Slade—and I’ll miss you all.

As I head out the door, I’ll leave you with some parting thoughts about surprises…

Do you believe a good story is as much about what you don’t say as what you do?

Voltaire did: The best way to be boring is to leave nothing out.
Alfred Hitchcock did: Drama is life with the dull bits cut out.

I do, too. However, this was a piece of craft I didn’t fully understand when I first started writing.

My initial attempts at story starts were rampant with backstory. I believed it was necessary to explain the hero or heroine’s past or to allow the reader to ‘catch up’ on some of the events that recently happened. People suggested that I take the backstory out but I still didn’t understand that not only was it okay to do so, it made the story better.

Two reasons:

1. Pacing. This reasoning I got first. It made sense to me that by giving all this information I was slowing the story down.

2. Drama. It took longer for me to realize that by dumping information on the reader at the first opportunity, I was taking the fun out of reading.

When we meet new people or start a new job or take a trip to somewhere we’ve never been before, a large part of the excitement is related to discovery. We don’t know everything about a new person when we first meet them — in fact, we usually only get a very superficial glance. The fun in meeting someone new is learning about them, bit by bit. Yes, we form first impressions, and those are often lasting, but they’re based on tidbits of information, on subtle clues, not on a detailed accounting of the person’s life story. Why should reading about a fictional character be any different?

Now, to be fair, in fiction our goal is to have the reader identify with the protagonist, so it’s important to give more insight into that character than any other. But choose your moments. Give the reader tidbits of information at the moment when it makes the most impact. Keep secrets. Real people do, so it won’t surprise the reader that your hero/heroine does, too. Well, the information might surprise them , but not the keeping of a secret.

What sort of info do you hold on to?

Well, motivations is a good place to start. We usually don’t get to know what’s motivating people. There’s often a surface reason — a quest for riches, for example — but the underlying motivation — I need to prove to my dad that I’m not a worthless piece of crap — is something we often don’t discover until we’ve gotten to know someone extremely well.

Backstory (all that stuff you wanted to tell upfront) is another place to look for what to hold back. The hero got a letter that set him off on this journey? Why not hold back the details of the letter until them finding out will incite a crisis? The heroine has three sisters? Why not hold that information back until you have a moment of intimacy between the hero and her that gives her a chance to tell him what those sisters mean to her?

If you’re holding back key pieces of info, dropping clues is vital. Readers get a little peeved if in a moment of crisis the heroine suddenly displays her black belt Karate skills when there’s been no indication she possessed them up to now. For important elements you’re going to use later, drop one or two clues along the way so the reader isn’t scratching their head going ‘huh?’. We’d much rather have reader going ‘I knew it!’ or ‘Now I see the connection!’

To use a popular TV show example: Remember the first season of Grey’s Anatomy? Yeah, I know I’m asking a lot. From the very beginning (in fact, from the first scene of the first episode), Derek Shepherd is a mystery. Several episodes before the finale, Meredith Grey, who’s dating him, gets a little frustrated about how little she knows about him. The episode ends with a romantic moment of sharing, and Meredith is satisfied that she’s finally learned the truth about him. Then, in the last minutes of the last episode of the season they produce Shepherd’s wife. Not ex-wife. Wife. Viewers are delighted with the shocker, but prepared because it’s been made clear that Shepherd has secrets.

Wouldn’t it have been dull to know he had a wife all along … even if the viewers knew, but Meredith didn’t? I think so. I love surprises.

Currently working on: Missing all my friends in New York
Mood: Wistful

As you read this, about 2,000 romance writers are converging on New York City for the annual Romance Writers of America conference. Con attendees will take workshop, “network” at the bar, giggle too much, and get blisters in the miles of hotel corridors.

In the weeks leading up to a major conference, the blogging world, Facebook and Twitter are full of advice for newbies old war horses trying to be more efficient with their conference time and money. The advice runs the gamut from the eminently practical (“stay hydrated” and “bring a sweater; some rooms are cold!”) to the sublime (“RWA is not a popularity conference. Which makes it easier to win”) to the ridiculous (“Remember, editors and agents are human too”; no they aren’t, if they hold the life of your work in their hands, that makes them demi-gods at least).

But I haven’t seen as much on post-conference advice. To rectify that…

1. Don’t lose momentum.
Conferences are exhausting. With the prep time before you leave, the travel stress, and the forced extroversion (not to mention the laundry and dirty dishes that mysteriously piled up at home while you were gone) it’s easy to come back from conference utterly drained. Take some time to recover, but don’t let it derail you for more days than the conference itself, which can easily happen.

2. SUBMIT your requested work.
The anecdotal number varies, but editors and agents all say that they get surprisingly few of the manuscripts they request at conferences. Don’t be that writer. Or if you want to be that writer, don’t take away the ed/ag appointment from a writer who WILL follow up.  After conferences, there’s always a flurry of emails on writing loops asking “How long do I have to send in my story? Cuz, uh, actually, it’s not done. Really, it’s not even started.”

My answer (and not everyone agrees) is: Send it fast. It has to be good too. Not fast OR good; fast AND good. An editor or agent isn’t going to ding you on points if you take too long, but if she asked for it, it’s because she thinks she has a place for it.* Later, that maybe not be the case.

* Or because she’s just being nice. Which is a waste of everyone’s time. But don’t waste more time by NOT sending your work.

3. Do something with those business cards you collected.
If you followed the pre-conference advice and networked like crazy, you probably have lots of cards. Hopefully you followed good pre-con advice and jotted down a note on the card to remind you who this person was. Now to figure out what use you can make of those cards. Rather than keep scraps of paper around, you can data enter names, email addresses and the identifying feature you noted earlier into a word doc or spreadsheet for later retrieval. Send a quick email to people you want to remember so you have their addresses handy in your contact system.

4. Distribute all that swag.
You probably came home with more bookmarks, pens and plastic whatnots than you thought possible.  Contact your local romance book club or indie bookstore to see if they’d like to paw through it for the vicarious thrill. Your local RWA chapter might be interested in deconstructing the swag to see what marketing efforts seemed effective.

5. Put your favorite workshop advice to use.
Handouts and jotted notes seem to accrue more easily than mastery.  Actually TRY some of the craft, business or inspiration ideas that you learned. Also, share them with writing friends to reinforce them in your own mind. Keep a folder of only the very best (for you) of what you learned. That’s a great folder to take with you to writing retreats when you need a boost of remembered excitement.

6. Stay hydrated.
Hey, can’t hurt.

What’s your best post-conference advice? Anybody going anywhere else fun this summer? I’ll be at RomCon in Denver the first weekend of August and Authors After Dark in Philadelphia the second weekend of August. I’ll let you know if I follow my own advice!

I just watched the third Pirates of the Carribean movie for the umpteenth time. The opening scene is one of my favorites in any movie, where the condemned who are waiting to be hung for either being pirates or for associating with pirates. First, the young boy begins to sing, and the others join him. It’s a very powerful scene, and one I can’t help be riveted by.

Yo, ho, haul together,
hoist the Colors high…
Heave ho, thieves and beggars,
never say we die.

The scene is a prologue of sort, meant to raise suspense and questions in the audience from the first moment. It’s a springboard into the story. I’m a fan of prologues, and though it’s not by pure intention, all of my books have featured prologues.

Here’s the prologue for the third book in my Shadow Guard series, DARKER THAN NIGHT:

He awoke to darkness, his limbs twisted in linen sheets, his hands seizing at nothing. Perspiration bathed his skin.

Her taste lingered on his tongue. The scent of lotus flowers clouded his nostrils, a seductive tease. He ached—oh, God, how he ached, the intensity of his unsatisfied need leaving him almost sickened.

Groaning, he rolled to his side and curled inward upon himself, alone in his room save for the blinking raven perched on a brass stand beside the window. A gust of wind rattled the shutters and Big Ben tolled three o’clock. Male voices, drunken sailors from St. Katharine’s Docks, volleyed curses at one another. Bells rang softly on barges which were anchored on the nearby Thames.

The bird shifted and rustled its wings.

Torn between agony and shame, he threw off the linens and abandoned his bed. Wrenching the door open he took to the dark hallway, his hands skimming over ancient stone. The stairs. One flight. Two. Fevered blood pulsed inside his head. Closing his eyes, he drew upon his inner power to change, to become a shadow. A different sort of heat consumed him, one that seared his bone, muscle and flesh from the center of his solar plexus, out. Unnoticed he slipped past the two brothers who had been assigned to night duty.

A large brass cage hung from above, higher even than the large circular candelabrum that provided the room with a comfortable light. The cage contained the six of the Tower’s seven resident ravens—all but his, which remained in his room below.

Tres, silent and serious, sat at a long desk, his pale head bent in concentration, transcribing the day’s surveillances and communications into a leather bound tome. His younger brother, Shrew, mumbled the words to a tune and crouched beside the fire. With a curl of his muscles, he wrenched a length of chain and from inside the flames, out clattered a narrow brass cage onto the stone floor. Inside would be a stack of sealed envelopes, unmarred by the incinerating heat—the night’s communiqués from the Primordial Council and others within the immortals’ protected Inner Realm, the pure-aired paradise that existed as an alternate plane, over the same landed space as the mortal world.

As part of their nightly duties, the two Raven warriors also guarded over—
Wood-plank doors, bound by studded metal bands hung open on massive hinges, granting him entry to the shadowy chamber.
Wind rushed through the shutters, to awaken his skin and incite the purple curtains into a rippling dance. A gilt statue of Hecate hung over the bed, carved to appear as if the goddess was bursting through the wall. Beautiful, bare breasted and arms outspread, in each hand she wielded a lantern in the shape of a blazing torch.

But he was a Shadow Guard, gifted with the ability to see through the most fathomless dark. He didn’t need her light to see the woman below.

This night, as in each night past, her dark hair spilled in a glossy river across the pale linens. Raven’s wing lashes lay against her cheekbones, concealing the dark eyes that tormented his dreams. Her skin, golden rather than alabaster, shone with the inner light of vivacity and health. With each breath, her breasts rose and fell, the intricate lace of her undergarments faintly visible beneath the fine lawn gown she wore. A garnet the size of an Egyptian scarab glimmered on her finger. A narrow gold band in the shape of a serpent encircled her wrist.

Careful not to touch her skin, not a single strand of her hair, he pressed his fists to the mattress at either side of her face. He leaned down until his nose was aligned just beside hers so that their lips nearly touched.

A moment later, and he escaped the White Tower through the window and descended the cool surface of Caen stone. Once on Postern Road he traveled quickly—in a rage of speed and power. He skimmed and turned against brick, wood and cobblestone, leaving behind the Tower of London, the wharfside warehouses and the tenements. Everything—the dead fish stench of Ratcliffe Highway and the granite arches of the Bridge of Sighs—dissolved into a blur as he hurtled past.

At last there were the green parks, high stone walls and rows of palatial white town houses. The shadowy figures of well dressed gentlemen hovered on horseback and doorstep as they returned home, discreetly and quietly, from private clubs, gambling houses or from within the arms of their mistresses.

He found the numbers imprinted onto a bronze plaque and hissed under the black lacquered door, and past the slack-faced doorman asleep on a bench. Cool marble. Blue silk. Rich gilt. He mounted the stairs and entered her room by way of the crack beneath the door. The power of his arrival snuffed the candle in the lamp and sent the crystal teardrops of the unlit chandelier to jangling. He materialized at the foot of her bed, still barefoot and wearing only his loose linen trousers.

She pushed up, white satin hugging every curve.

“I knew you’d come,” she whispered.

She beckoned, arms outstretched. He didn’t look at her face—only at her hair, which was the precise shade of blonde to make him remember.

To make him forget.

*****
In various writers groups and online, I’ve seen discussions where some people are in favor of prologues, while others truly dislike them. What about you? Do you enjoy prologues, or would you rather not read one? If you do enjoy them, is there one in particular you remember over all others?

As I write this, it’s the first day of summer. The warm weather has been dragging its heels to arrive here. This is the first week I’ve actually worn a light coat, and only the second day I’ve worn sandals. I look at the calendar and think someone’s playing tricks.

I mention this, not just because complaining about the weather is a favourite occupation in the Pacific Northwest, but to illustrate how slippery is that beast called time. Although we have devices to measure microseconds, time remains perceptual. There’s always either more or less of it than we think. We try to kill it. It slips away. It’s always hang heavy on our hands until … well, it runs out, doesn’t it? Then one wonders where it went, and whether it was wasted.

The effect is magnified by creative endeavours. I am great at promising things that will occur in a misty future only to find the deadline is breathing down my neck. Due dates have a way of making the future accordion into a frightening present. When I am in the zone and doing great work, time zooms by unnoticed. I’ve come out of a white heat of writing only to notice that I’ve lost a whole day.

Maybe that’s why I’ve always been fascinated by timepieces. Apparently, they’re magical machinery quite beyond my control. And, they’re thematically appropriate to the turning of the year, when I tend to get a bit philosophical anyway.

In my constant battle to tame the fleeting hours, I have learned this much: If there is something I want to accomplish, waiting for circumstances to be right doesn’t work. I hesitate, time flies, and I’m no further ahead. Even if I never reach my goal, moving toward it puts me on a better path. It’s like the universe waits to see if I’ll commit before coming on board. That’s when happy “timing” might occur—after I’ve done 95% of the work.

Think of it this way: It’s the first day of summer and the start of a new season. The wheel is turning, but toward what? Where do you want to be on the first day of winter? Even if you know you can’t be there, can you be closer? What do you need to do to make it happen? What are you willing to put on the line?

If you want to do something, don’t wait. The sands of time are running through the glass. Be brilliant, brave and take no prisoners.

The first season of HBO’s new series Game of Thrones (based on the books by George R.R. Martin) came to an exhilarating end on Sunday night.

I have to say, they have me hooked. It’s grim, violent, and full of graphic sexual content … and I’ll be waiting with bated breath for next season, which won’t happen until Spring 2012.

For those of you who haven’t seen the show, I’ll avoid spoilers as much as I can, but I’m going to list some of the reasons why I think this is a great series:

1. Conflict. There are masses and masses of it. Yes, there are also masses of characters, but after the first show, I had a pretty good handle on who was who. The conflict exists on a number of different levels: between ousted royalty and their replacements, between houses (or clans), between members of families, between duty and family, between societal dictates and individual preferences, between old beliefs and new beliefs, and so on. Very deep, very interesting.

2. Characters. The characters are revealed through their actions, both good and bad. They make choices we like, we hate, and we wince over. Bad things happen (see item #1) and the characters are forced into situations they’d really rather avoid. People scheme, lie, and make promises they don’t keep. What does all this mean? It means the characters that are vivid and complex. You want to spend time with them, week after week.

3. Mystery. The world unfolds slowly, with each show providing more and more detail. The people change as events influence their lives. The political landscape shifts, creating turmoil for all. And through it all, you’re left wondering. Not in a frustrating way, but in a curious way. What will happen to the characters? How will the characters react to events? How will the political intrigues play out? Who is trustworthy, and who is not? What better way to engage the audience than to have them wonder and hope and question?

As a storyteller, I’m filled with admiration for George R.R. Martin. As a viewer, I’m just plain enthralled.

Anyone else out there a fan of the series?

Currently working on: Another round of editing
Mood: Determined

Yesterday was Father’s Day, and since romance novels are all about heroes, it seems only right to take an extra day here to mention the first hero many a kid– hopefully — encounters: a father.

From my dad, I inherited enough engineering DNA to make me a plotter rather than a pantser. I got from him a love of deserts (“eroded dirt” as my tree-loving mother calls them) and desserts. He taught me how to catch garter snakes — and taught me to leave them alone. He passed on to me a hefty dose of his sense of humor which I in turn pass to my heroes.

He also gave me good advice over the years, which I’ll share with you:

“Always pursue your dreams, or at some point your dreams will end up pursuing you.”

Inspiring yet mildly menacing, like all the best advice. It contrasts poignantly with the advice a friend got from his father when we were all in our early 20s: “Fergit yer dreams.” (My friend’s dad wasn’t a hick but he was intoxicated at the time of the advice, hence the slurring.) What kind of bitter sorrow drives a man to say such a thing to his son?

“Success will come with patience and persistence.”

This advice made me laugh because my paternal DNA lacks the chromosome for patience. I wish I’d listened anyway. Persistence is probably the more critical component of success, but patience makes the wait more pleasant.

“We love you and will always be here for you. But don’t move back home.” (Paraphrased)

I figure he saw a nature show about the papa bird kicking the baby bird out of the nest. But really, giving his kids the space to spread their wings and the freedom to fall must be a scary moment for a loving father. But then he gets to remodel the empty bedroom into a home office, so it’s probably worth a few sleepless nights.

“The key is to enjoy life while you work to reach your dreams. That way, the path becomes as rewarding as the objective.”

This is advice I struggle to remember every day. Or at least every other day. Once a week, minimum. Enjoy. Work. Dream. Good balance. Thanks, Dad.

Having a loving, supportive, smart, interested father is a great gift. What’s the best advice your dad gave you?

Congratulations to Kaysi, who wins the ARC of Frostbound from my book release contest!

Last week, I launched FROSTBOUND, the fourth of the Dark Forgotten series. I’m not totally out the zone of guest blogs and promo contests, but the initial push has passed. Now I’m eyeballing the dates for the RWA Conference in New York and wondering if Air Canada is still going to be on strike when it’s time for me to get on a plane. File that one under “never a dull moment.”

In the meantime, I’m in that odd post-book launch mood.

It’s two parts fatalistic, one part empty nest. We wind ourselves up to be dynamos of energy and, once the confetti has settled, feel let down. We’re no longer the centre of attention. Another book has come along, displacing our moment in the sun. All that’s left is the anxious wait to find out how our baby is doing in the big, bad world. Will people treat it kindly? Will my hero and heroine remember to wear mittens and cross only at the lights?

I’ve never learned how to effectively deal with this state of mind, other than to plunge back into writing. Put another way, the only antidote for present nerves is future plans. I did the same thing when I was entering contests prior to publication—I always made sure I had one more entry out there, because if entry A didn’t do well, entry B just might. Having lots of irons in the fire kept my nail-biting at a bearable level.

And while I fret and wonder and wring my hands for my newborn novel, I’m also jubilant because a story I desperately wanted to tell is now in the hands of readers. How lucky is that?

How much time do you spend selecting the names of your characters? Do they pop into your head and stick? Or do you pour through baby name books looking for the one that calls to you? Or do you pick the names (or variations on the names) of your favorite public figures?

Ever since I was in grade school and sat next to a fellow by the name of Barry Perry (who was never called just Barry), I’ve been fascinated by names.

I think long and hard on the names of my characters … testing first and last together for rhythm, verifying authenticity with the locale and time period, and ensuring the name reflects the personality of the character. If, during the course of writing a book, a character’s personality evolves into something I didn’t foresee when I started, I’ll change that character’s name.

I confess, though, the most common reason for me to change names partway through a book is realizing that I have too many that begin with the same letter.

I use a couple of resources to name my characters: a standard baby name book and a book called Names through the Ages by Teresa Norman. The Norman book breaks names into Irish, Scottish, Welsh, English, French, and American origins, and assigns time periods to their usage. Very helpful for a historical writer. I also use another great book, the Character Naming Sourcebook by Sherrilyn Kenyon. This book goes further on the origin side of things, breaking names into 45 countries/places of origin, and also has articles on character naming.

If you don’t have the funds for a book at this moment, you can have a look at a few online sites:

Behind The Name First Names – provides meanings for various first names
Behind the Name Surnames – provides meanings for a selection of last names
Social Security Administration – gives lists of popular names by year

Or if you need more help, check out some of the character name generators:

Behind the Name
Ficticity
The Script Vault

Here’s hoping you have as much fun naming your characters as I do.

Currently working on: Scouring dirt from my fingernails
Mood: Soiled

The garden is finally in. Took a couple extra weekends because the ground was so wet and cold that nobody — not me, not XY, certainly not tomatoes — wanted to be in the dirt. But as of today, all the chicken poop is scattered, all the starts are started, all the stakes are stuck through the hearts of vampires are ready to bear the weight of future produce.

Which means it’s time for this spring’s edition of “All the Ways Writing is Like Gardening.”

I’ve noted before, in past editions of ATWWILG, when I read authors’ bios, a lot of them comment about their gardens. I’ve hypothesized that writing is such a head-bound pursuit, writers need an excuse to get outside and connect with life. Gardening fulfills that need to immerse ourselves in the real world — while still letting our minds wander in our storyworlds. Sneaky, I know.

1. Gardens and stories don’t look like much at the start.

As the picture above demonstrates. Baby plants and blank pages aren’t very impressive. They are vulnerable to the late-night predation of slugs and self-doubt. But they are also so fun and exciting at this point; just think what they could become! Their potential is limitless (especially in the case of cherry tomatoes) and they are still easy to weed around. But just wait for high summer when plants and pages have exponentially run amok.

2. Gardens and writing will bug you sometimes.

We do have some terrifying spiders that may or may not be black widows, brown recluses and hobo spiders, but these yellow cuties are infant common garden spiders (sometimes called diadem spiders, which sounds so pretty). In the spring, they are as numerous as the words in a very good writing session. (Although after a few weeks, they will eat each other down to just a few; much like the words after a very good revision session.)

For me, walking face-first through a spider web and getting stuck in my story engender very similar responses: lots of swatting, swearing and skin-crawling. (Ack, it’s on me, get it off, get it off!) Nothing for it but to brush away the sticky strands holding you up and continue onward.

3. Don’t forget to play.

It’s possible — likely? inevitable? — that not everything you find in the garden and in the story will be what you expected. Take, for example, the vast variety of spherical throwing objects the garden apparently sprouted over the winter. Who knew spherical throwing objects could breed and bear offspring? There’s no other explanation for why there are so many in my backyard. Digging them out of their various nooks and crannies was super entertaining. (And part of the reason I have so much dirt under my nails; Monster Girl wasn’t going to have ALL the fun…at least not when the fun came at the expense of my strawberry bed.) Take some time to enjoy the weirdness and see what might work better than what you planned.

So what’s growing in your garden — or your word garden — these days?