Does Your Story Need CPR?

By Kay Springsteen

As a healthcare professional, it’s part of my job to know CPR. They used to teach the ABCs of CPR – airway, breaths, compressions – as in check the airway, give two breaths, start compressions. It has now been determined that the more appropriate acronym is CAB. That is, compressions should be performed first as they are more important than the breaths. With all this in mind, I began to wonder if I couldn’t make a quick rule for fiction writing based on CPR techniques. With the help of my writing and editing partner, Kim Bowman, I came up with the following:

C: CONTENT.  Check your content. Is everything you included critical to the story? Does it all fit with the story? Does it drive your story forward? If you removed it, how would your story change? Is it appropriate to the heat and graphic level of your intended target publisher? Do your time lines make sense? Have you done your research so any facts you state are true? Does your historical contain time-appropriate language, dress, mannerisms?

A: AVOID common mistakes such as filler words (too many adjectives), filter words (putting distance between the reader and the character through the use of telling words (heard, felt, smelled, saw, etc.).

B: BELIEVABLE CHARACTERS? Are your characters people you might expect to react in the way you’ve written them as reacting to the events in your story? Are they people you could meet and greet on the street? Or are they unintentionally over the top? Too perfect? Too flawed? On the other hand, are they so believable they’re mundane and a bit boring?

What methods do you use to tighten your writing?

Romance Writers Make the Best Lovers

When you write a spicy sex scene for your book, normally there isn’t much research going into it. Unless you are writing about Fetishes that you haven’t tried yourself.

Normally sex scenes come straight through imagination and fantasies.

When an author sits down to the keyboard and starts writing out these wonder scenes, the juices and the words flow naturally. Each movement, word, caress comes through the brain and into the fingers and onto the paper. There is no need to research, plan, or plot.

It’s right there fresh and in the mind. And most normal red blooded females will turn their head and look at the person they love and their libido piques. They walk over…oh, never mind, I’m sure you understand where this is going.

Not only writers get this wonderful hormonal surge, so do the readers of their wonderful works. I’ve been known to review books and rate them on the ‘O’ scale. When an author can take you there with their work, it’s then that you know this person knows how to take words and weave a web of seduction and desire.

One of my favorite web weavers is Kissa Starling. Each story scorches my mind and delivers a great deal of satisfaction. One of the newest and hottest authors I’ve read is Karen Bostrom. I just read Red Leather Reunion and even though the main characters don’t have intercourse the sexual tension is just amazing.

Who are your favorite sensual authors?

*****

AJ Best

http://www.ajbestwrites.com

A touch of real life in every story.

Guest – Laura Tolomei – The writing of the Virtus Saga

Today we have another guest. please welcome Laura Tolomei to Let’s Talk Romance.

Writing the Virtus Saga was a real challenge, particularly since I’m still not sure on how to go about creating a series. Mine, believe it or not, built itself on its own, starting with a recurring image in my mind—a horse rider lost in a place close to home who finds shelter from a thunderstorm in a beautiful woman’s run-down shack, and she looks too familiar to be a stranger, though he has no recollection of her, of who she is, not even of a name—and developing apparently on its own, details being added as I went along without any pre-conceived plot. As incredible as it sounds, it felt like I was reading it, rather than creating it. Yes, like any other reader starting with The Sex, I had no idea what the plot would turn out to be or why characters did certain things, then progressed to The Game, Book 2, and The Festival, gathering information without the chance to glimpse ahead. All I had was a concept, which I’ll gladly share with your readers for the first time ever.

The planet Sendar is controlled by a mechanical device as part of a vast social experiment. This sophisticated mechanism channels people’s aggression into sex, which in turn guarantees their feudal society knows no violence.

Other than the above, I didn’t know myself where the story was going when it started, so much so I still don’t have a definite ending to it.

Interestingly enough, the characters played inside my head for quite some time before I set them down on paper. At first, I saw this handsome dark rider, a prince I thought to myself, with long hair flying wild as he braced nature’s hostile elements—a storm about to hit him just to make the situation more tragic—on his black horse, utterly lost in a land he should’ve known like the back of his hand but oddly didn’t, until he sees candlelight shimmering in a window. When he gets to it, he realizes he’s not lost at all, in fact he’s very close to home, only with the storm’s fast approach, he decides to stop there for the night if they’ll offer him hospitality. But the woman standing on the thresholds feels awfully familiar, though he hasn’t the slightest idea who she is or why she should feel like someone he’s intimate with. Now why doesn’t he remember Ylianor since he’d grown up with her? And since readers will find the answer in Book 4, The Leader, it proves how little info the characters shared about themselves while I was writing, telling me only what they wanted me to know when it was time to know it, no earlier, so from the first line to the last, which is still to be written, it was just small pieces until they composed a great picture that still amazes me for its complexity.

And Christopher Templeton is the key to the whole design, although he came to me after Duncan falling for Ylianor, overshadowing what would have been a classic romantic meeting with its predictable ending had he not been there to make it different from the start. So I gathered he had been Duncan’s only love from the beginning, no question about it, since the earliest age possible, and no woman would ever replace him in the prince’s heart, not if he has any saying in it. In time, I’ve come to love how Chris defends his territory, fiercely eliminating competition, doing his dammed best to make sure things stay the way they started out, however impossible that will be to accomplish. Yet in the end, readers realize Lord Templeton loves Duncan so much, he’ll only do what’s in the prince’s best interest, even if it means having to step aside and forego the most precious thing in his life like he does for two entire years of pain and agony away from his lover’s side. But I guess it’s what makes Christopher so fascinating and so attractive in his own diabolical way, unpredictably evil at time while capable of a love so all encompassing he’d be willing to sacrifice everything to it, his life included. And unsurprisingly, it all came together with the phase, the planet Sendar’s unique way for boys and girls to experience sex for the first time with someone of their own age and gender, which for both Duncan and Chris is a clear-cut choice given the powerful attraction to each other that will inevitably draw them closer than they ever imagined possible.

PG EXCERPT (The Sex)
“But, Mother, Chris is Duncan’s best friend, almost like a brother, so who better than him to make your son come to his senses?”
Suddenly interested, Chris brightened. “What happened?”
Sophia Caldwell’s hesitation lasted a fraction of a second before plunging into the story. “Well…it seems my son had the bad taste of employing a woman as a stable keeper and of course, we aren’t very happy about it.”
“Mother, if Chris is to help Duncan, he must know the truth.” She turned to him, eyes alight with barely suppressed emotions. “You see, this woman is the daughter of my father’s mistress, a servant he had the misfortune of…fancying.” She frowned as if recollecting something. “I think you may have known her, too. She used to play with Duncan when they were still children.”
Ylianor Meyer! How could I forget? “Vaguely.”
“Anyway, when Father died, Mother banished this…creature from the house. Now Duncan has brought her back.”
Chris turned to Lady Caldwell. “You really banished her?”
“Of course, I did.” Sophia spat. “To have to suffer her presence after Charles died would’ve been intolerable.”
“So it happened after your mate died in…” He creased his forehead in an effort to remember dates.
“About ten years ago,” Elizabeth supplied.
“And you’ve had no contact with her in all this time?”
“None whatsoever.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Not even Duncan?”
Elizabeth shrugged. “If he had, he made no mention of it. But I really don’t think so.”
“Then how did he find her?” And more importantly, how did he manage to remember her?
“We…” Elizabeth faltered and looked at her mother. “We don’t know.”
“I’m not interested in how he found her.” Lady Caldwell scoffed. “I want him to kick her out again.”
Elizabeth shook her head sadly. “Unfortunately, he offered her the position her father once held as stable keeper.”
“Yeah, I remember her father worked here.” Using a cautious tone, he pretended memories were returning to him.
“Yes, well…” Elizabeth looked uncomfortable as if debating whether to include more information or not. Then she made up her mind. “Actually, there are gossips going around about her origins. Malicious lies, for sure, but—”
“My mate is not that creature’s father.” Sophia Caldwell almost shouted.
“Mother, calm down!” Elizabeth turned to look at Chris apologetically. “Please, forgive her. It’s still a touchy subject for her and she tends to get very upset about it.”
“Of course, I understand.”
“Naturally, we know she’s no blood relation.” Elizabeth’s tone was firm as if wanting to dispel any residual doubts. “It’s ridiculous even to think it, but people can be very cruel sometimes, especially if they can talk bad about someone.”
“That servant had the baby when pledged to John Meyer, our stable keeper,” Sophia explained in a gentler tone. “Charles never pledged to her and as you well know, Lord Templeton, that’s essential before you can have any children.”
Chris nodded in agreement.
“John Meyer is her father.” Elizabeth set the record straight once and for all. “Or rather was. He died just recently.”
Chris frowned skeptically. “And this made Duncan want to replace him with his daughter?”
“I don’t think—”
“It has nothing to do with John’s death.” Lady Caldwell was quick to end her daughter’s sentence. “That woman, just like her mother, is a witch and she used witchcraft to seduce and enslave Duncan into bringing her back here. That’s exactly how her mother worked her way into my poor mate’s heart.”
“Come now, Mother, they’re just women.” Elizabeth tried to argue persuasively. “That’s all. Can you really see Duncan fall prey to witchcraft?” She looked steadily at Chris. “Maybe you can find out why he insists on keeping her on the premises.”
He shrugged annoyed. “If I ever get to see him.”

. Laura Tolomei aka Lalla Gatta
.Website lallagatta.com – Blog LallaGatta
MySpace, Facebook, Twitter, Likedin, Goodreads
——
Thanks for visiting us today.
—-

Ava Delany, author of The Beginnings series, A Librarian’s Desire, A Soldier’s Woman, and A Surprising Day (11-04-11) The Fetish Club series, Captivated, Dominated, and Fallen. And The Homecoming series, The Librarian’s Love, The Soldier’s Return, and The Wedding Night.

Everything I Wanted to Know About Writing I Learned From My Cats

An insomniac has tons of times to think about writing (when one should be writing) and what they have learned and how. I honestly think that my cats taught me most of what I need to know.

1. Steady and cunning get you what you want. If you don’t have a cat and have never seen them stalk a fly/ladybug/moth you’ve missed out on a lifetime of lessons. They will sit as still as can be and stalk that thing till it’s just in reach. And eight times out of ten, they get what they are going after.

Just like writing! You have to be steady in your course and you will achieve your goals. You have to make sure that you keep the eye on the prize. If you don’t get it the first time keep on keeping on, it WILL happen.

2. Know who you can lean on. Cats are particularly finicky over who they will ‘sit’ with. My cat Thor will walk up to me, and nudge the laptop from my lap, curl up, and fall asleep. He only stays there long enough for a cat nap, but he knows that he can do it and won’t be chastised for it. Our cat Belle will only lay on you when you are laying down and near sleep, when she feels safest.

In writing you need to know who you can go to for critiques, ideas, and a good pick me up. There are some out there that you can’t trust, and those that would be hurtful to your ‘mojo’. You don’t want to ask someone to critique your work if they are going to say, “Seriously? You think you can write? That scene where they are in the cafe SUCKS!” After something like that, you may never write again. If you can find a friend who will look at it and say, “You did a good job, but I think some work could be done on the cafe scene. I was a little confused when she walked out. Can you tell me more?”

3. When life gets hectic go to another room and vegitate. When the kids are running around, I’m cooking, my fiance happens to be working on computers or filling up the wood stove, it can get hectic in the house. The cats then know it’s time to head upstairs into the bedrooms or hide in the living room when everyone is in the den.

When I write, I can’t do it around the family with the kids screeching, the dog barking, the dishwasher and washer going (man that last spin cycle is LOUD). I have to take myself out of the hectic atmosphere and go somewhere where the romance can flow. I hide in my room where my office is, some like to go to the library, or a coffee shop. You need to figure out what is right for you and go there, do that.

Realize that you can get an inspiration for writing from anywhere, so keep your eyes open and keep writing.

Guest Post – Karen Frisch – Prioritize This

Once again we welcome to Let’s Talk Romance, the wonderful Karen Frisch, whose historical romance What’s in a Name will be released by Avalon in December 2011. She is the author of Lady Delphinia’s Deception, published by ImaJinn, and Murder Most Civil, published by Mainly Murder Press. Both are available through the publisher or on Amazon.

–
Prioritize This
Writers are unique.We believe. We happily sacrifice every spare moment just to lose ourselves in the imaginary worlds we’ve created,hoping someday our stories might become a source of income. We’re willing to wait as long as it takes to achieve our goal.
But the idea of a writer working peacefully in a garret is pure fiction. Whether we sell our stories or not, we have to fit writing time into lives that include children, jobs, and other responsibilities. We don’t complain when all our free time gets spent on writing. It’s what we love. It’s who we are.
Remember the movie Analyze This? I don’t need to analyze my life to know I’m being pulled in too many directions. The calendar reminds me there is soccer practice, doctors’ appointments, church-related promises, and after-school activities. The paying part-time jobs have value, so they’re a priority. They are not the real work of the heart, but they help pay the bills.
Things are good, but they are not always smooth. The problem arises when worlds collide. I could pick any week from this year. The collision of the imaginary with the real turns life into a whirlwind.
My daughter’s appointment with the orthopedist for her broken wrist is somehow scheduled three hours before game night at church, for which we also have to bake something.
The promotional packet of excerpts from my novels that I’ve put together for the upcoming conference I’m attending isn’t copying well. In fact, the big lines between sections of text are so bad I have to start over from square one.
And I have a blog due. Today. I could have written it yesterday, I suppose, before or after work.
Get the picture? It’s all too familiar, I know.It’s the things that aren’t on the calendar that make it a challenge.The dishes are piled so high on the counter I’m expecting a landslide any moment now. Clean clothes? Haven’t seen any for awhile.
I’m not technologically savvy. Certain computer functions take me longer to figure out than it would anyone else. (I write historicals, remember. I’m just visiting this time band.)
And then page proofs arrive. To the challenge of children’s activities,part-time jobs, and the conference, add a deadline. The arrival of a manuscript that needs final editing demands attention. Immediately.It’s my attention that is most in demand, and everyone is demanding it.
What happens when there are no clean clothes or dishes and no clean surfaces to work on? Life starts to grind to a halt.
I don’t want my children to look back and remember a mother who was always in motion but never in focus. It’s time to regain perspective.
We take a breath and stop to prioritize. We take time to laugh and to celebrate the milestones in our families’ lives. We rejoice with a friend who just had her first short story published. Sometimes happy moments need to be celebrated quickly so we can fit all the things that matter into our crowded lives.
As I get closer to deadline, miracles happen. Doctors’ appointments are kept. I even have a flash of insight into a character as I sit in the waiting room. Even if our families don’t know it, our minds are always on our characters.
My book of excerpts will get done. (Now if only people will read it.)My daughter comes to the rescue and bakes something for church. Each deadline I meet increases my faith that everything will turn out splendidly.
Still, the body can’t keep going without feeding the soul. That’s what writing is for.
We get past the doubts and struggles by taking a deep breath. We take a minute to focus, then we keep going. To paraphrase Nathan Bransford, the solution to all writing problems is to write.Life is the same. No excuses. No guilt. Stay positive, and just write.
For those of you caught in this whirlwind, for those plugging away at their writing careers or just starting out, you’ve taken on the world, but you’ll make it. Just write. Keep writing. And keep believing.
—–

Thank you so much for being here, Karen. We’re glad to have you with us.
—
Ava Delany, author of The Beginnings series, A Librarian’s Desire, A Soldier’s Woman, and A Surprising Day (11-04-11) The Fetish Club series, Captivated, Dominated, and Fallen. And The Homecoming series, The Librarian’s Love, The Soldier’s Return, and The Wedding Night.

Writing Sexy Demons….

Since Halloween is right around the corner I decided to dedicate  me weekly blogs to those creepy, wicked and sometimes wickedly yummy “things that go bump in the night.”

Today I’m going to be discussing Demons, in particular “Sexy Demons” and how I like to write them.

Okay so we think Demon and immediately an image of a large bulky red skinned creature with frightening features, huge bat like wings, forked tail and sharp claws comes to mind.  Well for most people that would be the general image.  As a writer, I find it quite a challenge to take something familiar, as the description above, and turn it into a sexy, mouth-watering hunk-a-licous hero.  First off, I know I need to stick with what is familiar to most readers.  Thanks to the media, movies, literature, art etc…, readers have a general idea of what a supernatural creature should look and sound like.  

Taking the “stereotypical look” into consideration is certainly a must.  When some one buys a book, the characters need to represent several traits that he or she can relate to.  But how does a reader relate to a demon?  Good question.  I’m about to try to answer that.  

One way is to create an alternate physical appearance.  For example, Authors who write shape-shifter novels already know that the “shape-shifting hero” will be, in most cases, drop dead, heart thumping gorgeous.  Even more important, in their “human” persona, they will most likely have personality traits that are relatable to the reader and more likely than not, likable.  For me I tend to write heroes who are both sexy and smart with a bit of dark humor.  It fits in with my image of the “Beast” aspect of their nature. 

Relatable heroes/heroines the reader can relate to, makes it easier for them to accept the “bestial nature” of the characters. 

However, what happens to a character that doesn’t have the capability to shape shift and remains in their “supernatural form”, yet falls in love with the average human.  Certainly it will raise a few eyebrows if the creature is very non-human looking.  I recently read a book, Zoot by Chaz Thompson, (which I recommend for any aspiring author of fantasy/sci-fi erotica), in which the hero is actually a God like creature, humaniod-like, yet to every one he comes in contact with he appears to them as their version of the perfect physical male in what-ever species they’re from.  I love this twist.  Still I prefer to write, primarily demons, how I picture them to be. 

In many works I have written, whether for contests, submission or just as a story for a family member or friends, the Demon hero has the “basic” characteristics, one would find on the hollywood screen, horns, bat-wings, sharp angular face… It is what I add to those features that makes them appealing.  Whether it be a set of beautiful emerald-green eyes, full sensuous lips or a proud straight nose with flaring nostrils, perfectly proportioned on a ruggedly otherworldly expressive face, it gives the character, otherwise terrifying to behold, a more personal, likable image.  Notice I haven’t changed the fact that his/her features are definitely demonic, instead I have picked certain aspects that the HEA would find appealing, hence letting the reader see through her/his eyes.  I do this with every aspect of the physical appearance, careful not to change the basic persona of what a Demon looks like in people’s minds.  

The hard part is personality.  The best way, I find at least for me, is to give my Demon character a mixture of dark nature and compassionate emotion that is almost innocent in his/her expression of it.   For example take the following excerpt:

Lorgan watched the frail creature cower before him.  His first inclination was to squash her with his hoofed feet.  Yet he paused.  Something about the way her body bent forward, so thin, so small, the  way her tiny hands clasped in front of her small womanly breasts, shaking, halted him. The pert nipples poking through the thin linen material of her chemise, brought other thoughts to his mind.  He tilted his head to the side considering her a moment.  A strange sensation settled in side his heavily muscled chest.  The girl squealed as his large crimson hand wrapped around her arm, and careful not to stab her tender pale flesh with his sharp claws, he hauled her up.

See, my hero Lorgan is still a bad ass, yet there is a hint of compassion for the young woman he just captured…Hmmm may be the start of a new tale….wheels working…Uh-oh watch out.  The best way to make likable characters in any genre, is to give them great dialogue and descriptive POV with internal insight into who they are. Give them feelings and fears and most importantly, let them grow like children with every line, paragraph and every revision.  Use a character chart if you have too, but remember always give them the same layers of complexity that makes us human.

Well, Best of luck and happy Reading

Emma

Terrific Releases Tuesday

If You Hear Her: A Novel of Romantic Suspense by Shiloh Walker

Blurb
The scream Lena Riddle hears in the woods behind her house is enough to curdle her blood—she has no doubt that a woman is in real danger. Unfortunately, with no physical evidence, the local law officers in small-town Ash, Kentucky, dismiss her claim. But Lena knows what she heard—and it leaves her filled with fear and frustration.

Ezra King is on leave from the state police, but he can’t escape the guilty memories that haunt his dreams. When he sees Lena, he is immediately drawn to her. He aches to touch her—to be touched by her—but is he too burdened by his tragic past to get close?

When Ezra hears her story of an unknown woman’s screams, his instincts tell him that Lena’s life is also at risk—and his desire to protect her is as fierce as his need to possess her.
Excerpt Language warning!

from the unedited copy
He was waiting on a date.

A fucking date.

What in the hell was he doing?

He didn’t need to be dating right now…did he?

Head was too fucked up and too often, he spent time lost in some black, black moments.

Bad date material. Very bad.

But even as he tried to convince himself of that, he couldn’t get up and leave. It was dinner. A meal, right? A meal with a pretty lady, and obviously going by the lasagna from yesterday, a pretty lady who could cook. They could share a meal, some conversation—should be easy, he figured.

His screwed up head didn’t even have to enter into it, right?

Food. Conversation. At the end of the night, they’d go their separate ways, and maybe, just maybe he could get her phone number. Nice and easy…nothing complicated about it.

Easy.

And it was, he realized. Sitting there with her, sharing a meal and some conversation.

He hadn’t been lying when he said it had been a while since he’d asked anybody on a date—it had been months since he’d been on a date, years since he’d really asked anybody out.

But still, it was easy. Being with Lena? Felt easy. Felt…natural.

“You haven’t lived here very long,” she mentioned as she cut into the roasted chicken.

“That obvious?”

“Small town. I’d have heard the name before if you had been living here long…although the last name is familiar. You’re June King’s grandson?”

“Yeah.” Small towns were strange places. A guy could forever be known as somebody’s son, grandson. This was his particular identifier here—June King’s grandson. Not he minded. His grandmother had been one hell of a lady and it seemed like just about everybody who had known had loved her. “Did you know her?”

“Not so much.” Lena shrugged and took a sip of her water. “I’ve only lived here on nine years and I know her health started to slide the last few years she was alive. I met her a few times, though. She seemed like a wonderful lady.”

“She was.”

“It makes you sad,” she murmured. “I’m sorry.”

“Loss always sucks.” He scooped up some mashed potatoes and took a bite, swallowing despite the knot in his throat. “She was a hell of a cook, too, but I’ll tell you what, I think you could have given her a run for her money. How did you get started doing this—did you always want to?”

“You really want to know?” A smile tugged at her lips.

Something about that smile had him curious. “Yeah.”

“I did it to piss my mom off.”

“Piss your mom off?” he echoed. Baffled, he sat his fork down and asked, “Just how in the hell does becoming a chef warrant getting your mom pissed off?”

“Well, being a chef involves things like knives, and hot stoves,” Lena drawled. An amused grin curled her lips, amused…and just a little devilish. “In her eyes, it was a veritable death trap for somebody who couldn’t see. She’s the overprotective type.”

“And your dad?”

Lena sighed, that smile faded from her face. “He’s dead. Died in an accident when I was twelve.” Absently she reached up, rubbing at her eyes under her tinted lenses. “Dad was always pushing me to do whatever I wanted, whatever I could. Mom was more hesitant but Dad encouraged her to let me try. After he died, well…she reacted by hovering. Clutching me too close. Those overprotective moms you heard about on TV sometimes? My mom could have given them lessons.”

She turned her face toward his and grimaced. “Not exactly ideal date discussion we’re having here.”

“Says who?” He bumped his shoulder against hers and said, “I’m enjoying the conversation. Sure as hell beats some of the inane crap I’ve listened to in my life.”

“Inane.” The somber expression on her face slowly faded, replaced by a smile. “Points for using inane, Ezra. But let’s try to lighten things up a little. What brings you to Ash?”

Not the way to lighten things up, he brooded. Trying to keep the edge from his voice, he said, “I lived in Lexington until a few months ago and took some time away from my job. Since Gran left me the house, I decided to come here. Place is getting run down, needs some work on it and it’s easier to do if I’m here anyway.”

“To stay?”

“That’s what I’m here to figure out,” he said softly.

There was something in his voice, Lena thought.

She didn’t know him well enough to entirely put her finger on it, but she could hear the strain. And sitting next to him, she had felt the way he’d gone rigid and stiff, even though he’d forced himself to relax almost immediately.

But she wasn’t going to pry.

At least, not yet.

Maybe if he asked her out again…

—–
Why I’m excited
I love the blurb. The intrigue of where the scream is coming from piques my curiosity.

—-
April Dawn
-Author of Crushing Desire and Bound by Love available now through Breathless Press, All Romance, and Kindle.

Making the Bed Fit the Story

By Kay Springsteen

It’s two a.m. The cat has just barfed in the bed, or your baby, who fell asleep in bed with you last night, developed a leaky diaper. It’s not a total emergency, right? After all, you have more sheets and blankets in the linen closet. Now that autumn is arriving in the northern hemisphere, though, you’d better hope you don’t have one of those dryer lint blankets.

So you open the closet and discover…that the laundry you thought could be put off until the weekend…should have been done yesterday. Your linen closet is sorely in need of stocking. On the shelves, you see a couple of bath towels, an Afghan Grandma Betty crocheted for you, and two fitted sheets. That dryer fluff blanket is looking better and better, isn’t it?

At this point, you can stay awake and write while waiting for that laundry to get done, or perhaps you can sleep on the sofa. Or you can try to make up the bed with what you have. So, you fit one of the sheets over the mattress, and then you place another sheet over that, fitting just the bottom and leaving the top free. It’s not too bad, right? Then you put Grandma Betty’s Afghan on top and crawl between the sheets.

Okay, so the blanket has a few issues. First of all, it’s too short. Second, it’s crocheted pretty loosely with a lot of lacey holes. So your feet are hanging out…or your shoulders are. You’re about to spend the night with cold feet or cold shoulders. And no matter what you cover, it’s not going to stay toasty warm because of the lacey effect. And as you’re lying there, you come to realize that fitted sheet you placed on top isn’t smooth and unwrinkled. It’s bunchy in the wrong places and you feel as though you’re being strangled.

Writing a story is very akin to this disastrous bedtime scenario. If you don’t lay a foundation with some description to show where your characters are and what they’re doing, your readers simply don’t know. Consider the following conversation:

“Here’s your coffee.” she said.

“Thanks.” He accepted the cup and took a sip. “This is great, honey.”

She tasted her own and smiled. “It is, isn’t it? I decided to try something new.” (34 words)

Are you picturing a couple—age-indeterminate—sitting at the morning breakfast table? It could easily be this is what the author intended. But we really don’t know. Of course, in a full-length story, you’re given clues prior to a bit of dialogue such as this, so you may have a better idea of where they are and how they got there. But consider this same scene with the addition of some description:

John waited for Cara in the car, listening to a rock song and tapping his fingers against the steering wheel in time to the music. Glancing around the parking lot, he noted there were no empty parking spaces. The sign above the door to the coffee shop read The Mud Puddle. The building itself sat on the corner of the little strip mall, and was made of brown brick with floor-to-ceiling windows on both exposed sides. Customers came and went while he waited. The traffic on the busy street in front of him raced by. Finally, the door to the coffee shop swung open and Cara emerged. She walked slowly across the black-top toward him while he watched.

Cara pulled the passenger side door open and slid in, her fresh meadow scent blending with the aroma rising from the two cardboard cups of coffee she balanced in her hands.

“Here’s your coffee.” she said.

“Thanks.” He accepted the cup and took a sip. “This is great, honey.”

She tasted her own and smiled. “It is, isn’t it? I decided to try something new.” (192 words)

Now, the scene with a little rearranging and some description but with some of the fluff removed or rearranged:

Because he couldn’t find a parking place, John waited for Cara in the car, tapping his thumbs against the steering wheel in time to the rock song on the radio. A car honked nearby and a harried-appearing young woman raced across the parking lot to climb in the passenger side of a black SUV. A semi flew under the amber traffic light seconds before the light turned red, leaving the smell of diesel fuel in its wake. Finally, the door to the coffee shop swung open and Cara emerged. She took her time sauntering toward him, and he enjoyed the sexy sway of her walk while she did so.

Cara pulled the passenger side door open and slid in, her fresh meadow scent blending with the aroma rising from the two cardboard cups of coffee she balanced in her hands.

“Here’s your coffee.” she said.

“Thanks.” He accepted the cup and took a sip. “This is great, honey.”

She tasted her own and smiled. “It is, isn’t it? I decided to try something new.” (177 words)

Now I could simply say: John waited for Cara in the parking lot of the coffee shop. But that’s taking out a bit too much fluff for my tastes. I like a little description to set the tone as well as the scene. In the last example, the reader is shown the coffee shop has other customers and is located on a busy street. With this knowledge, readers can build the rest of the place in their mind. They do need some direction, but they don’t need an over abundance of description to get in the way of the important parts of the story. With a little description but without the fluff, you have a Baby Bear’s bed scenario: Just right.

Terrific Releases Tuesday

This TRT I’ve chosen (tee hee) Chosen by Fate (A Para-Ops Novel) by Virna DePaul

Blurb
Although he keeps company with a vampire and a were, human Shaman Caleb O’Flare can definitely hold his own. But neither his psychic ability nor his healing powers can help his sexy-as-hell teammate, Wraith-a ghost with no memory of her human existence, who cannot experience touch without pain. No wraith has managed to exist past its tenth year, so her time is about to run out. She wants only two things before accepting her fate: to learn her human identity, and experience one night with Caleb…

Excerpt

Caleb’s hands moved swiftly and efficiently as he set up the mobile radar equipment he’d spread out on the roof. The building below his feet had been swept and a perimeter established. Now all Caleb had to do was determine who was in the room with Mahone and whether Mahone was still alive.

Briefly, he glanced at Ethan Riley, leader of Hope Restored Team Blue and the four men, skilled in entry and perimeter surveillance, who’d accompanied them here. “Did you get in touch with the Para-Ops team?”

Riley looked up from checking his rifle. “They’ve detained the vampire Dante Prime. Devereux said he tried to teleport here, but he’d depleted his powers in Korea . . .”

Caleb snorted. “No shit.” Although vamps could teleport to and from anywhere in the world, provided they’d been there before, that kind of travel drained them. Before he and the rest of the team had interrupted the Vamp Council to question Dante Prime for treason and conspiracy to commit murder, Knox had spent several hours teleporting between North Korea and the United States. Each time, he’d carried a wounded Other or one of his team members back with him. It was a wonder the vamp was even capable of talking at this point…

His fingers moved faster. Almost there. Glancing at his watch, Caleb clenched his teeth and felt a bead of sweat trickle down his temple. He knew they couldn’t go in blind but—

“What about your wraith? Was she what you expected her to be?”

Caleb paused for only a fraction of a second before continuing his task. “She’s not my wraith. She’s a wraith who decided to keep the name Wraith, just to be ornery. And she’s exactly what I expected her to be.” What he didn’t say was that she was also far more than he’d expected. A heinous bitch, yes, but one whose attitude and mouth was designed to hide something textured and complex and . . .

Disgusted with himself, Caleb pressed his lips together and pushed thoughts of Wraith out of his head.

Get Mahone out. That’s all he could think about right now.

“Finally!” Snapping the last wire in place, Caleb flipped on the power and adjusted the radar settings, then scanned the building’s interior until the radar picked up body heat. “Bingo.”

Caleb immediately zoomed the camera in and got a good look at Mahone.

Dear Essenia, he thought, automatically invoking the name of the Earth Goddess to give him strength—strength he was clearly going to need to help Mahone. Although humans believed Essenia was an Otherborn deity, few knew Earth People—like the Native American tribe to which Caleb belonged—had prayed to the same deity for centuries.

With his wrists shackled to chains hanging from the ceiling, Mahone looked like he’d gotten into a fight with a chipper machine and lost. His face and body were covered in blood, and what was left of his clothes hung on his battered body in shreds. From his position on the rooftop above, Caleb once again adjusted the settings on the mobile radar equipment. The image on the screen zoomed out, losing detail and focus until it shaped the entire room, and provided grainy outlines of Mahone, a desk, a table, and one other individual, whose silver hair, height, and slim build proclaimed him to be a vampire.

When Caleb and the five members of Hope Restored Team Blue had arrived at the isolated warehouse twenty minutes earlier, Caleb had figured Knox, leader of the Para-Ops team, had made a mistake by not sending any Others with him. That, or Knox simply had faith in Caleb’s ability to take down anything that got in their way, human or not. Either way, Caleb was getting Mahone out and he planned on both of them to be breathing when he did it.

Caleb thought of the first time he’d met Mahone and the vision he’d had. He’d had the same vision several times since and the moment he’d met Wraith, he’d become convinced that the black-and-white aura that hovered near his own had to be hers. Upon their meeting, he’d felt a sizzling arc of connection that had only intensified with time. Apparently she hadn’t. In fact, she seemed to have no use for him and spent most of her time pushing him away. Maybe the aura belonged to Mahone, instead, and the vision had been a premonition of this very moment, Mahone straddling the line between life and death, waiting to see whether Caleb could save him.

Luckily for both of them, Caleb had come prepared. He looked at Riley. The man might be a little more chatty than Caleb liked, but he’d had no problem taking Caleb’s lead on the current mission. He was smart and he was a clean shot. That’s all that mattered right now. “Mahone’s in bad shape. We need to get in there fast. I’m hoping the vamp will teleport as soon as he knows he has company, but I need you and your team to cover me in case he decides to stick around. Are your shooters set up around the perimeter of the room?”

“They’ve all checked in and are in the crawl space, with their weapons ready.”

“Obviously your bullets won’t kill him but, along with the Hyperion gas, they may buy me enough time to get to Mahone and extract him.”

“How long does it take for the Hyperion to immobilize a vampire?”

The Hyperion was something Caleb had developed toward the end of the War. The government hadn’t known about it and he’d only used it a few times before peace had been declared. The testing he’d conducted had been limited, but he felt fairly confident it would work.

At this point, he figured his odds of getting out with Mahone were only slightly below average. “Usually about sixty seconds, but that’s with a vamp who’s been weakened by the effects of the vampire vaccine. From the looks of this one, he’s had pure blood recently. Still, he might not be at full strength.”

“If the vamp’s immobilized by the Hyperion, how do we keep him contained while we take him in?”

“We don’t. That’s not what we’re here for. Our sole objective is to rescue Mahone.”

Riley nodded, but looked troubled. “You said he’s doing bad . . .”

Caleb tried to keep his expression blank. “Doing bad” was an understatement. Mahone probably had less than five minutes of life left in his broken body. “Just get me to him. I’ll take care of it from there. You ready?”

Riley communicated with his men, then nodded. “It’s a go.” Slipping the small gas pellet from his pocket, Caleb held it up. “Remember, you have to stay back. Help me hold back the vamp, then get your men out. You’re maintaining the perimeter, not going in. This gas immobilizes vamps and weres, but it does far worse to humans once enough of it is absorbed in your blood stream.”

“What about you?”

“I’ve built up a resistance. It’s not extensive, but it’ll give me the five minutes I need. If we don’t make it out, it’ll take two hours for the gas to dissipate. Don’t come into the room until that much time has passed. Understood?”

Riley nodded and held out his hand. O’Flare shook it, then strode to the door that would lead him from the roof to the room below. He moved quietly, his breathing low and shallow, his gun held at the ready with the gas pellet in his other hand. He’d activate it as soon as he got close enough and it could work its magic on the vampire.

When he entered the room, he immediately saw Mahone. Even the radar’s enhanced imaging hadn’t prepared him. The vampire wasn’t touching him, but Mahone’s facial features were contorted in agony, his body writhing and jerking even as he remained silent. Fuck, Caleb thought when he saw the blood seeping out of Mahone’s eyes and ears.

“Hey vamp,” he shouted at the same time he threw the pellet, which would emit a toxic but invisible gas. The vampire whirled around, his eyes flashing red the instant he saw Caleb. He bared his fangs and came at him, his feet gliding above the ground. Caleb fired a round directly at his chest, causing him to fall back. At the same time, Riley and his men fired as well. As the vamp jerked with the impact of the bullets, O’Flare ran for Mahone. He reached up and felt his pulse.

It was barely there. He literally felt the man’s life bleeding out of him.

Laying his hands on Mahone’s bloody chest, Caleb closed his eyes. Bullets still fired around him, some coming too damn close. Damn it, Riley’s men had to get out before the gas reached them in the crawl space. “Get out!” he yelled.

“The vampire teleported,” Riley shouted. “We’re clear.”

With a sigh of relief, Caleb willed his consciousness into a trance and called to his ancestors for their healing help. He saw them in the colors that swirled behind his eyelids and felt their presence in the heat that immediately suffused his body. Their voices chanted low and soothing, directing him to keep one hand directly over Mahone’s heart but place the other over his eyes. Caleb willed the healing heat building within his body to transfer to Mahone. As it did, he took some of Mahone’s pain into himself.

He felt his own heartbeat slow.

His limbs weakened.

His body began to shake with the effort of remaining upright and he clenched his teeth, sensing he needed to maintain contact far longer than he ever had.

Come on, come on, he urged himself. Hang in there.

The dizziness came next. Then the nausea. He could feel his lungs filling with the gas that swirled around them and knew his time was running out.

His body jerked as he coughed and the movement threatened to pull his hands away from Mahone.

They had to get out of there, but if he disconnected too soon it would all be for nothing. Mahone would die. Hell, Caleb would probably die, as well, too weak from the healing to get out on his own.

But then he felt Mahone’s chest rising strongly and his pulse beating regularly and he knew it had worked. The heat slowly left his body and the voices of his ancestors faded. Caleb whispered his thanks, then opened his eyes. Swiftly, he reached up and unhooked Mahone’s chains from the manacles around his wrists. Mahone groaned and slumped over just as O’Flare caught him and threw him fireman-style over his shoulder. Caleb staggered a few steps before he turned, intending to carry Mahone to the doorway. Halfway there, his knees buckled. Caleb lost his grip on Mahone, and the man slipped and rolled a couple of feet away. Grunting, Caleb fell on all fours, his head hanging, his lungs seizing up.

He’d waited too long. They were both going to die in this warehouse just like those scientists. He looked up, eyes watering, searching the room, thankful that Team Blue had obeyed his orders even as he regretted the fact no one was going to be able to help him.

But then he saw her. Wraith. Running toward him. He tried to open his mouth. To yell at her to stop. He didn’t know how the gas would affect a wraith. Since it worked so well on vamps, immortality had nothing to do with it. But he couldn’t make a sound and Wraith kept coming. She knelt beside him and pulled him up. She was yelling something and he tried to make it out.

“—have to walk! I need to get Mahone. Can you walk, O’Flare?”

She was looking frantically between him and Mahone, the indecision on her face readily apparent. She couldn’t carry them both out of there before the gas ended them.

“Leave me—” he tried to say, but again no sound came out. It didn’t matter. Wraith understood.

She grabbed him by his shirt and shook him, hanging on when he began to slide, practically keeping him on his feet. “No fucking way, O’Flare. I didn’t survive Korea just to come back and lose you in the States. Stay on your feet and move. You’re walking out of here. Got it?”

The vehemence in her voice roused him enough to nod. She released him and, although he swayed on his feet, he didn’t fall. Quickly, she grabbed Mahone, carrying him in the same lift O’Flare had used. Then amazingly, she positioned herself next to him and ordered, “Lean against me if you need to. Start walking. Now.”

Caleb walked. He didn’t know how he did it, but he managed to put one foot in front of the other. At one point, he did have to lean on her and he sensed how it slowed her down, but she didn’t move away. She stayed with him.

Until they made it out into the open air. He heard shouts and the sound of stomping feet just as he collapsed.

When he came to, he was being loaded into an ambulance. Riley’s face hovered above him. “Mahone?” Caleb rasped out.

“Still alive,” Riley said. “But I don’t know if he’s going to stay that way.”

From the worried expression on the man’s face, Caleb knew his own chance of survival was also in question.

“Wraith?” he asked, grabbing on to the man’s shirt when he didn’t answer. “What about the wraith?”

Riley shook his head. “I don’t know. She passed out, same as you. No pulse, remember? No breath. No way to tell if she’s alive or dead. They took her in another cab. Your guess is as good as mine.

—-
Why I’m excited
Virna DePaul has made a heroine who can’t be touched without pain. What an awesome thing to have to overcome. I’m curious how she will do it. Plus, reviews are looking great so far.

—-
April Dawn
-Author of Crushing Desire and Bound by Love available now through Breathless Press, All Romance, and Kindle.

Please Clean Your Lint Filter

by Kay Springsteen

Have you ever washed a blanket and dried it in your dryer and then discovered a good portion of the blanket has ended up in the lint trap as a layer of fluff? I swear, sometimes when I clean my dryer’s lint filter, there’s so much fluff there I could use it to make a second blanket. The only thing is, no matter how much fluff is in that filter, when you peel it out of there, all you have in your hand is a wad of fluff. It may have peeled off in a sheet but the moment you try to spread it across a bed, it’s going to fall apart. Why? Because it’s fluff, insubstantial and useless.

Have you ever been writing along and gotten so caught up in the setting that you spend a great amount of time describing the sweeping lawns of the mansions, the canopy of trees lining the old street, the tall white columns of the Greek ruin? Have you found yourself so entranced by your setting that you go into painstaking detail about every bent blade of grass in each trace of footstep in the normally well-manicured lawn, when maybe all you need is to mention that someone had left a trail of imprints when they cut across the lawn? Consider two different sentences saying the same thing.

In the forest, leaves in every color and hue clung to the trees, as the vivid reds and oranges high overhead battled for attention against pale yellows and dark greens of the lower bushes.

The example above is descriptive and definitely informs the reader that this is autumn in the woods. But it’s also a little wordy, and as a reader, I would probably skip that sort of passage and go looking for the real heart of the story. In short, this sentence is dryer fluff. It takes too many words to put the picture in the minds of the readers.

Autumn had splashed her vivid palette across the forest canvas.

The second example also paints a fairly vivid picture of autumn in the woods, and since most people reading your stories will know what autumn color looks like, it’s likely they will be able to picture an autumn wood without being told of the presence of each color. The second example is the real blanket that you will use to keep warm. It doesn’t fall apart because it’s not made of flimsy fluff.

These two examples are very extreme ends of the spectrum. In reality, the best solution for fluffy writing is possibly to set a goal for somewhere in the middle of these two extremes. Description is not an exact science. But if you start noticing that you’ve written paragraphs filled with detailed description of a setting or an outfit or a meal, you should probably check your story’s lint trap and see if it needs to be emptied.

The Winner of the Pitch Your First Page Contest is…

We have some great entries in the contest, so I’d like to thank everyone who entered. The winners, mentioned below, will receive an email from me with instructions on submitting your full manuscript.

3rd place: “Feral” by Melissa Jolley
2nd place: “To Our Future” by Angela Quarles
WINNER: “The League of Rogues” by Lauren Diana Smith

Congratulations!

If you would like to check out the entries, click here.
—
April Dawn, author of Crushing Desire and Bound by Love.

Romantic Gestures – Romance Books vs. Real Life

I’ve been thinking about romantic gestures lately. What is considered romantic? When you delve into a good romance book, there are GREAT feats of romantic gestures.

In a romance novel:

• A man will take you and whisk you away to a getaway where you can make sweet beautiful love in the luxury of a cabin on a snowy mountain.
• A man will pick you up when you are feeling ill and carry you in his strong arms away from what is making you ill and hold you close till you are better.
• A man will buy you diamonds, cars, houses.
• A man will scale mountains to rescue you from a kidnapper and will beat/kill the man who dared to harm you.

I don’t know about you, but I think I want to go in a romance novel and live. Romance is not like that for me. What about you? But…My real life romantic gestures are much better, at least to me.

In real life a man may:

• Rub your back while you’re being sick with the stomach flu.
• Carry your purse in public – without complaining.
• Kiss you in public.
• Wash your hair for you every day for three years.
• Walk past you while going into another room and touch your shoulder.
• Let you lie in his lap and play with your hair while you watch TV.
• Indulge you in your desire to be kissed anytime he asks you to do something, as payment of course.
• Hold your hand in public.
• Hold your hand in private.
• Open the car/store/house door for you and let you walk in first.
• Call you in the middle of the day just to hear your voice and make sure you are OK.

I’ve decided – I don’t wan to live in a romance book. I like the romantic gestures I have now. What are some of your favorite romance book or real life romantic gestures?

Terrific Releases Tuesday

Today my pic for TRT is Everything I Know about Love I Learned from Romance Novels by Sarah Wendell (released October 1st.)

Blurb
Take a dashing hero with a heart of gold and a mullet of awesome. Add a heroine with a bustle and the will to kick major butt. Then include enough contrivances to keep them fighting while getting them alone and possibly without key pieces of clothing, and what do you have? A romance novel. What else? Enough lessons about life, love, and everything in between to help you with your own happily-ever-after.

Lessons like…

Romance means believing you are worthy of a happy ending

Learning to tell the prince from the frog

Real-life romance is still alive and kicking

No matter how bad it is, at least you haven’t been kidnapped by a Scottish duke (probably)

Straight from the heart of influential romance blogger Sarah Wendell, this inventive gift book provides the best wisdom about love that the romance genre has to offer. Laced with signature witty commentary and peppered with thoughts from bestselling romance authors (Nora Roberts, Jennifer Crusie, Debbie Macomber, Eloisa James, Robyn Carr, and lots more) and avid readers, these pages will reveal what every romance reader already knows: while romances are certainly steamy, they have more to offer than just a sexy hero. In fact, they might have more to say about love than we give them credit for. Sarah Wendell is cofounder of one of the top romance blogs, SmartBitchesTrashyBooks.com.

Excerpt

Romance reading has probably already taught you more than you realize. You might not be kidnapped by cross-dressing pirates and held for ransom, or find yourself outrunning a serial killer with the help of a very handsome, taciturn detective, but you will always find conflict in your relationships, whether it’s bills and debt chasing you down a dark alley, or precarious sexual fulfillment lurking in your bedroom.
But fear not. Inside those stories is everything you need to have a happy, loving relationship. From books like Seducing a Sinner and Rescuing the Rake, you can learn about tricky subjects like Valuing Your Emotions and Having Real Conversations about Sex.

Welcome to Everything I Know about Love, I Learned from Romance Novels. In this handy little book, we can celebrate all the wonderful things we’ve learned about real-life love and romance that are hidden and not-so-hidden inside the average romance novel. What, you thought all those heaving bosom covers with impossibly Technicolor eye shadow were just for visual embarrassment and titillating thrills? Nope. Romance novels are much more complex than meets the eye-and we readers of romance know that better than most. It’s not hard to discount romance, and it’s easy to take them way, way less than seriously. After all, there is a 95 percent chance that a romance novel cover will feature a mullet. Enough said.

But romance novels are complex and emotionally driven tales of courtship. And what better way to learn about relationships and how they start, fracture, and become stronger once repaired, than to read about those relationships in many, many permutations and variations? In all the thousands of romances where the boy meets the girl, stuff happens, and they get back together, there are a million-plus possibilities of how to repair what went wrong. And we’re going to look at every one, from amnesiac twins and what they can teach us about truthfulness and identity to bank-robbing cowboys and what you can learn from them about bad boys and perhaps avoiding felony charges.Who am I? And have I robbed a bank? No, not so much. I’m Sarah Wendell, better known as Smart Bitch Sarah from the romance novel website Smart Bitches, Trashy Books. Smart Bitches reviews and discusses romance novels with a readership of many thousands of readers around the world-there are more romance fans than you dare suspect, and we’re all very intelligent, fabulous dancers with minty-fresh breath, and as a bonus, we’re all quite savvy when it comes to relationships too.

Ironically, many people who disdain the romance genre and look down on the women who read it presume that reading about courtship, emotional fulfillment, and rather fantastic orgasms leads to an unrealistic expectation of real life. If we romance readers are filling our own heads with romantic fantasies, real men and real life won’t and cannot possibly measure up to our fairy-tale expectations, right? Wrong. Wrongity wrong wrong wrong. That accusation implies that we don’t know the difference between fantasy and real life, and frankly, it’s sexist as well. You don’t see adult gamers being accused of an inability to discern when one is a human driving a real car and when one is a yellow dinosaur driving a Mario Kart, but romance readers hear about their unrealistic expectations of men almost constantly.We’re going to put that sorry notion away for good. In this book, you’ll hear from me and other romance readers and writers as we explain both what we’ve learned about ourselves and about relationships. Sometimes the fantastical and impossible, such as the space captain with a streak of honor, or the sinking pirate ship populated with crewmen with impeccable manners and perfect teeth, can help translate reality better than any self-help book ever could. When you see your problems blown up into, dare I say, fantasy proportions, your real problems don’t look so insurmountable. Fantasy, instead of distorting reality, can help you comprehend your reality.

For example, in many paranormal romances, especially urban fantasies, the fate of the world, if not the fate of the universe, may hinge on whether or not the heroes of the story figure out their pesky relationship problems and beat the bad guy. Their ability to kick ass and to kiss each other are equally important, because if they don’t work their shit out, the planet might blow up. Comparing your current difficulty to that level of “OHCRAPNO” might help you gain perspective on how to handle it, and how to stop it from happening again. This is not to say that problems are not important-they absolutely are. But no one knows better than romance fans that most problems are also very likely fixable with varying applications of hard work and some risks or maybe a righteous smack down with a broadsword and a photon-charged handgun.

Why I’m Excited
When I published my first novel, I found Smart Bitches, Trashy Romance, and I loved the site. Their funny and honest look at the genre and it’s writers provided me with hours of amusement. Naturally I’m interested in reading a book filled with that level of wit. Aren’t you?

April Dawn
-Author of Crushing Desire and Bound by Love available now through Breathless Press, All Romance, and Kindle.

Overkill

by Kim Bowman on Mondays with Kay Springsteen

My friend, writing partner and fellow editor, Kim Bowman, is here for another visit, showing you how NOT to overkill your manuscript.

Overkill

We all want to be the next Tolstoy, Dickens, and/or Hemingway. As a result, at times, we try too hard. WAY too hard. Often times going overboard with dialog tags, punctuation, description, etc. as a way to ensure that the reader understands. And yes, I’m just as guilty as the next person. But if you overdo it, you’ll lose your voice in the excessive expressions.

To help illustrate the point I’m trying to make, I want to concentrate on one of my personal pet peeves when I edit a manuscript. Overuse of the exclamation point.

 AAUUGGGHHH!!!!!  Whew. Okay, I feel better now that I got that off my chest.

There is a time and a place for exclamation points, but if you’re excessive, it distracts from your story. So, what’s too much? Here’s an easy way to figure it out.

You’re moving along, writing your story. The scene’s intense, your emotions and adrenaline are on overdrive. Every instance of dialog – WHAM! Exclamation point! Every other sentence – WHAM! Exclamation point! You story is filled with them!!!!

My advice – add them. Put them everywhere in the scene! Double them!! Triple them!!! Make a whole line of them!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Write the whole scene that way and leave it. Come back to it later, once your emotions have settled down. When you do, take out every single one of those pesky little critters – ALL OF THEM.

Relax.

Take a deep breath.

Read the scene out loud.

As you do, ask yourself two questions:

1. Will the reader “get” the intensity, the emotion, without the exclamation points?
2. If not, what can I do to show the reader rather than telling them with exclamations?

I guarantee you’ll find you probably only need one or two exclamation points to emphasize a particular point. The rest…not necessary. Check out my example sentence:

Example A

“Get out!” Owen roared.

Example B

Owen grabbed Jakub by the throat and slammed him against the bedroom wall. “Get out.”

To be honest, both these examples are fine when looked at individually and not read as part of a scene. But imagine if you wrote a whole passage that was similar in tone to Example A and it looked something like this.

“You’re a monster!” Zanna screamed.

“Me! I don’t think so! You’ll sacrifice anything to get what you want!” Jakub shouted.

“Get out!” Owen roared.

“As you wish!” Jakub exclaimed and then he rammed his hand into Owen’s chest.

“Let him go!” Zanna cried as she jumped on Jakub’s back.

What do you think? It’s okay, but it’s fast, a little too fast, and you don’t have time to feel one character’s sentiments before the story moves on to the next. I also find myself asking what exactly the character feels – anger, fear, sadness. It’s hard to tell. The exclamation points do little to convey the emotion the person is feeling. Now let’s look at the passage as it appears in my book.

“You’re a monster,” Zanna said, her voice full of hatred.

“Me? I don’t think so. You’re the one willing to sacrifice innocent people in order to keep one man alive.” Jakub strolled over and stuck his index finger under her chin turning her face toward his. “Look at those haughty eyes. Ms. Seoul has no

intention of staying out of it. She will sacrifice anything to get what she wants.”

Owen grabbed Jakub by the throat and slammed him against the bedroom wall. “Get out!”

“As you wish. There’s just one more thing before I go.”Jakub rammed his hand into Owen’s chest.

Owen crashed to the floor, writhing and screaming in excruciating pain, his hands clenching and unclenching at his side. He twisted and trembled in agony, but made no move to fight back. Zanna realized he intended to let the lycan kill him.

“Let him go!” Zanna jumped on Jakub’s back. She pulled his brown hair and pummeled him with her fists. She sunk her teeth into his right ear as she clawed and scratched at his face. He yelled in protest, but still refused to release Owen.

The above passage is how one shines as a writer. Developing the story and letting it evolve into a balanced product is how to make sure your voice comes through loud and clear. And I’m in no way implying my scene is perfect. But it conveys what I’m trying to get across far better than a bunch of exclamation points or fancy tags.  Did you notice I only used one tag and it was said? Do you think the scene needed them?

I’m not telling you that the only punctuation you should us is a period or a comma. I’m also not telling you that you should only use said or ask as dialog tags. If you did, your writing would be boring and flat. What I am telling you is that although you should feel free to use all the tags, punctuation marks, etc. you want you also need to keep in mind that sometimes less is more.

Kim is a full time mom, an editor and the author of Wayward Soul.