My Mentor, Janice Lynn, Has a New Story

My mentor—the beautiful, talented, and generous Janice Lynn—has a new story entitled The Nurse's Miracle Baby. It is included in this Mills & Boon anthology with stories by two other known authors and an introduction by none other than the great Penny Jordan. Recently, Janice wrote: "There are 3 stories in the book and an introduction from the fabulous Penny Jordan--yes, THE PENNY JORDAN, and yes, I get a little light-headed every time I see that cover with her name and my name. WOW. Totally a pinch worthy moment. She's so fabulous!"

I had the pleasure to cross paths with Penny Jordan (only in the most distant way, mind you) when I belonged to the Romantic Novelists' Association. I got light-headed every time I saw an e-mail from her arrive in my in-box, not as an aspiring romance author, but as one of her long-time readers. What a special delight it is for me now to see my mentor's name on the same book cover with Penny Jordan's name!

You can order this book at Amazon.

It Was The Greatest Experience Of My Life

I have always thought that a person's childhood memory is like an attic—a shadowy place full of mysterious shapes, but when light suddenly casts away the shadows, a magical place of long-forgotten treasures. In my attic, most of those treasures revolve around my alma mater, the Academy of St. Joseph.

I haven't been to the Academy for more than 25 years, as I left Long Island for college, then law school, then legal practice, all of which took me to different cities, none of them near the Academy. But the place is with me always, and during the past few months, has haunted me during my sleeping and waking hours. In my last post, when I wrote about Kathleen Woodiwiss (see my post "Famous Authors Who Broke The Rules, Part I"), I mentioned the Academy, writing:

"By the way, I attended a private young ladies' academy in New York during elementary and high school. It was a most wondrous place with 19th century buildings, sprawling lawns, apple orchards, and stables, all enclosed by a six-foot stucco wall interspersed with black wrought-iron gates. All that I am, all that I can be, I owe to the Academy. Anyway, one spring, under a big oak tree near the stables, I read Kathleen Woodiwiss' Ashes in the Wind to my best friends ... and we discovered exactly what boys wanted from girls."

Lately, as you can probably tell from my last post, I have had the Academy on my mind. In fact, I have had a desperate yearning to go back, but as I still don't live nearby, I can visit only by looking at old photos. Come with me on a brief tour.

This is St. Joseph's Hall, the main building that houses the high school. As you can see from the arial photo above, there are several more attached buildings of the same style and vintage (though the photo doesn't capture the outbuildings, such as the novitiate and nursing home). The complex of attached buildings house the high school, middle school, lower school, chapel, and convent (known as the "Motherhouse"). Among other things, the Academy has a library, auditorium, drawing room, ice rink, hockey field, soccer fields, four basketball courts, eight tennis courts, stables, home economics cottage, dozens of classrooms, hundreds of boarding rooms, and a number of music halls.

But there is so much more to the Academy. It sits on over 200 of the most beautiful acres of land with narrow roads, tall pine trees, and eye-catching vistas. In fact, at one time, it was known as the Academy of St. Joseph-in-the-Pines. Unfortunately, in the arial photo above, you can't see some of my favorite places—not the stables off to the left, or the apple orchards off to the right, or the cemetary behind the camera. But the photo just above captures a little bit of the natural wonder that surrounded me everyday. Oh, how I loved to walk down the rows in the apple orchards surrounded by all those ancient and gnarled apples trees, while eating one of the sour green apples!

Now, let's walk through the front door of St. Joseph's Hall.

This is the grand foyer. The only students permitted on this grand staircase (known as the "Seniors' Stairs) were seniors in the high school. Seniors would sit on this staircase between classes ... chatting (usually about the male—a totally foreign and unfamiliar beast worthy of close study) and reading (yes, we were bluestockings, which was quite at odds with our intense interest in the opposite sex). Any non-senior caught on the Seniors' Stairs had to clean it with a toothbrush. No, I never had to do it as an underclasswoman, but yes, I did see a student do it once or twice. In retrospect, whenever I walked through the front door, I think I knew I had walked into a different world—a world that had changed me forever.

Let's enter the drawing room through a set of double doors off the grand foyer.

I have many wonderful memories of this room, one of which I'll share with you today. In this room, actor Brian Dennehy gave several of us an impromptu performance from Hamlet (if I remember correctly). His daughter, actress Elizabeth Dennehy, was two years ahead of me, and one of his other daughters, Kathy Dennehy, was in my class. The Academy lent itself to writers and actors, inspiring and encouraging them. Actress Angela Lansbury stood on one of the breathtaking convent balconies during the making of a movie. Looking at these photos, I now realize that, during those days so long ago, I walked in the shadow of ghosts and the glimmer of greats.

Now we'll go out a different set of double doors, take a left turn, walk along a long wide corridor, pass through a hallway of all windows, go up a narrow staircase, turn left, walk along another long wide corridor, pass through another hallway of all windows, and go up a wide staircase to a landing and then up again in the opposite direction. And we've arrived at the auditorium.

I'd always dash up the stairs with such anticipation, and once I burst into the auditorium, I'd take a deep breath before walking slowly down the center aisle past all the huge stain glass windows and toward the one of St. Joseph behind the stage. Here I appeared as an actress in a production of Oliver Twist, and here I directed another one of The Sound of Music. And here I attended my graduation ceremony, taking first place honors for Language Arts. No surprise, I suppose. I think I might still have the medal (as well as the class ring).

Although I loved every part of the Academy, the chapel (known as the "Chapel of the Sacred Heart") drew me with a relentless force. I have no good quality photos to share, and I can't properly describe it to you. It is in the attic—that shadowy place full of mysterious shapes without light to cast away all the shadows and reveal those long-forgotten treasures. I do remember, though, the dark silence whenever I snuck in, and when lit, the breathtaking archways between the center pews and outer aisles, the golden chalices engraved with the names of nuns (part of their dowries, if I remember correctly), and the massive pipe organ that townspeople could hear from miles away. And if I close my eyes, I can see all of us walking down the center aisle wearing long white gowns and carrying white candles at Christmastime.

How can a place have such a hold over one's heart?

I don't know the answer, just that the Academy does ... and always will.

Now let me share my sorrow with you—this past June, after more than 150 years of continuous operation, the Academy closed its doors forever, leaving students in shock and alumni in tears.

Months before, when the Sisters of St. Joseph had announced the closing, alumni had turned to the press, including The New York Times, crying that they could have given more, that they would give more, that they couldn't say goodbye. More than 500 hundred alumni went on Facebook to raise money from other alumni, but ultimately, as the sisters' decision was irreversible, only to share their memories ... and sorrow. One alumni said, "It was the greatest experience of my life." I knew then that I wasn't the only one who had taken an everlasting memory of the Academy with me when I had walked out those doors for the last time more than 25 years ago ... never to walk through them again.

Is there a place that has such a hold over your heart?

P.S. The official motto of the Academy was "Ad Astra Per Adua" (which means "To The Stars Through Adversity"), but the unofficial motto of the Sisters of St. Joseph was "Give us your daughters, and we will find whatever gift God has bestowed upon them." One day, when I was about 13 years old, Sister Karen said to me, "You are a writer." After that, I was often placed at a desk in front of a window with a view of the magnificent front lawn (known as "Our Lady's Lawn") and given one hour to write (by longhand, of course) all I could write in one hour's time. That window is the second one to the right of the one over the front door in the photo of St. Joseph's Hall.

Text © 2009 Madeline Smyth. All Rights Reserved.

Famous Authors Who Broke The Rules, Part I

Recently, while having some fun (see my post entitled "Beauty and the Beast, Continued"), I went up to my third floor attic and dug out my copy of Kathleen Woodiwiss' Shanna. Now, I'd never want to say or even suggest that there is a single flaw to find in Shanna, such is my adoration of Kathleen Woodiwiss' writing. Yet, as I stood in the dim light and then sat on a crate turning the pages, Shanna rendered me speechless because for the first time I saw it through the critical eyes of a contest judge, not the hungry eyes of an adoring reader.

Here, take a look at this passage:

His mouth was upon hers again, and his tongue was insistent until she met it with her own, first with hesitancy, then with welcome, then with passion. He was pressing her down upon the velvet seat.

Her sanity argued, this is madness! Her passion whispered slyly, let him come!

And he came to her, a first sharp piercing pain that made her gasp followed by a warmth deep inside that made her sob with pleasure. He began to move, and he was kissing her, caressing her, loving her--

Suddenly from without, Pitney's shout roared above the pelting rain, and the pace of the carriage changed. Cursing, Ruark raised his head, realizing they were stopping. Then he heard another voice answer the hail from Pitney; and he recognized it as that of the third guard, the one who had stayed behind with the prison van.

"Ahhh, damn!" Ruark groaned in frustrated agony. "Damn you deceiving little bitch!" He snatched from her roughly and flung her away. "I knew you couldn't hold to our bargain!"

With much urgency Ruark began to secure his garments, his teeth showing in a savage snarl as he cursed her viciously. Shanna cowered in the center, her hands clutched over her heard as he vented his wrath in searing words. In the dim light his sneering eyes raked her cruelly, marking her pale, quivering breasts and the soft lovely thighs still naked to her gaze.

"Cover yourself," he groaned out derisively. And then more harshly, "Or do you wish the guards to take my place?"

Shanna snatched the cloak tightly about her as if to shield herself from his ridiculing jeer and penetrating glare. A second later the door was jerked open, and the wide muzzle of Pitney's oversized pistol gasped its raw threat at Ruark's chest.

"Out!"

Everything in Ruark rebelled. He had been pushed, shoved, beaten, prodded, goaded, tempted, and finally betrayed at a most degrading moment. A ragged growl tore from his throat, and before anyone could react, he kicked the gun aside and launched himself, feet first, against Pitney's chest. The force of his attack sent them both sprawling to the mud. Cries of alarm sprang from the guards.

"Catch the bloke! Hicks'll 'ave our 'eads rolling!"

Shanna cringed as they fell upon him. Muffled oaths and grunts of pain detailed their battle. The guards were bulky, large, and heavily muscled; Hicks had chosen them for strength to see the prisoner back to his cell. Each outweighed Ruark by at least two stone, and Pitney was larger than any of them, but Ruark displayed an extensive knowledge of brawling. He fought like a man possessed.

It was several moments before they could subdue him, and even then he was only slightly more battered than his captors, two of whom held him secure now on his knees in the mud with both arms outspread, while the third hurried to fix the manacles to his wrists.

Pitney stood nearby, trying to scrape some of the mucky soil from his cloak. He massaged his shoulder as if it pained him and flexed his arm. Glancing up, he paused as he saw Shanna's face illuminated in the lantern's glow, and following his gaze, the guards also halted their labors ...

Beautiful, no? I won't argue or even suggest it isn't, and don't know anyone who would. Yet, let's take another look:

HEROINE'S POV His mouth was upon hers again PASSIVE VOICE, and his tongue was insistent PASSIVE VOICE until she met it with her own, first with hesitancy, then with welcome, then with passion. He was pressing her down PASSIVE VOICE upon the velvet seat.

Her sanity argued, this is madness! Her passion whispered slyly, let him come!

And he came to her, a first sharp piercing pain that made her gasp followed by a warmth deep inside that made her sob with pleasure. UNREALISTIC FOR HER TO SOB WITH PLEASURE MERELY FROM THE PRESENCE OF A MAN'S PENIS, ESPECIALLY AS SHE ISN'T IN LOVE WITH RUARK, AND HE'S FORCING HER TO MEET THE TERMS OF THEIR BARGAIN. He began to move, and he was kissing her, PASSIVE VOICE caressing her, loving her --

Suddenly from without, Pitney's shout roared above the pelting rain, and the pace of the carriage changed. Cursing, Ruark raised his head, realizing they were stopping. SWITCH TO HERO'S POV Then he heard another voice answer the hail from Pitney; and he recognized it as that of the third guard, the one who had stayed behind with the prison van.

"Ahhh, damn!" Ruark groaned in frustrated agony. "Damn you deceiving little bitch!" He snatched from her roughly SNATCHED FROM? and flung her away. "I knew you couldn't hold to our bargain!"

With much urgency Ruark began to secure his garments, his teeth showing in a savage snarl as he cursed her viciously. Shanna cowered in the center, her hands clutched over her heard as he vented his wrath in searing words. TELL, NOT SHOW In the dim light his sneering eyes raked her cruelly, marking her pale, quivering breasts and the soft lovely thighs still naked to her gaze. POV ISSUE. IF IN HERO'S POV, HE DESCRIBES HIS OWN SHOWING TEETH AND SNEERING EYES. YET, IF IN HEROINE'S POV, SHE DESCRIBES HER PALE, QUIVERING BREASTS AND SOFT LOVELY THIGHS. SO, PERHAPS IT'S OMNISCIENT POV.

"Cover yourself," he groaned out derisively. And then more harshly, "Or do you wish the guards to take my place?"

Shanna snatched the cloak tightly about her as if to shield herself from his ridiculing jeer and penetrating glare. A second later the door was jerked open, PASSIVE VOICE and the wide muzzle of Pitney's oversized pistol gasped IMPROPER VERB CHOICE its raw threat at Ruark's chest.

"Out!"

Everything in Ruark rebelled. He had been pushed, shoved, beaten, prodded, goaded, tempted, and finally betrayed at a most degrading moment. PASSIVE VOICE A ragged growl tore from his throat, and before anyone could react, he kicked the gun aside and launched himself, feet first, against Pitney's chest. The force of his attack sent them both sprawling to the mud. Cries of alarm sprang from the guards.

"Catch the bloke! Hicks'll 'ave our 'eads rolling!"

Shanna cringed as they fell upon him. SWITCH TO HEROINE'S POV Muffled oaths and grunts of pain detailed their battle. The guards were bulky, large, and heavily muscled; Hicks had chosen them for strength to see the prisoner back to his cell. Each outweighed Ruark by at least two stone, and Pitney was larger than any of them, but Ruark displayed an extensive knowledge of brawling. He fought like a man possessed.

It was several moments before they could subdue him, and even then he was only slightly more battered than his captors, two of whom held him secure now on his knees in the mud with both arms outspread, while the third  hurried to fix the manacles to his wrists.

Pitney stood nearby, trying to scrape some of the mucky soil from his cloak. He massaged his shoulder as if it pained him and flexed his arm. Glancing up, he paused as he saw Shanna's face illuminated in the lantern's glow, SWITCH TO PITNEY'S POV and following his gaze, the guards also halted their labors ...

So, Kathleen Woodiwiss broke The Rules (see my prior posts with the label The Rules), and yet, an editor bought her manuscript, a publisher published her book, and millions of readers (including me) put Shanna on their keeper shelves. It makes me wonder whether the advent of the internet and RWA chapter contests hasn't impeded the raw creativity of aspiring authors. In other words, what would the late and great Kathleen Woodiwiss say if we said, "Oh no, you can't switch POV during a scene."

By the way, I attended a private young ladies' academy in New York during elementary and high school. It was a most wondrous place with 19th century buildings, sprawling lawns, apple orchards, and stables, all enclosed by a six-foot stucco wall interspersed with black wrought-iron gates. All that I am, all that I can be, I owe to the Academy. Anyway, one spring, under a big oak tree near the stables, I read Kathleen Woodiwiss' Ashes in the Wind to my best friends ... and we discovered exactly what boys wanted from girls.

So, in memory of those days, I'd like to say:

Requiescat In Pace, Kathleen

If you are an author, do you follow The Rules?

Excerpt from Shanna © 1977 Kathleen Woodiwiss. All other content © 2009 Madeline Smyth.

Where Is Madeline Today?

Today, I am in Southampton, New York with Pia and Alex, the heroine and hero in my new story. For this story, I've come home to my beginnings, as I'm from the southeastern coast of Long Island. No matter where I am in the world, when I close my eyes, I see the beauty of the setting sun, hear the roar of the crashing waves, smell the scent of the salty ocean, and feel the warmth of the sand beneath my feet. It is with me always, beckoning. Pia and Alex will discover one another standing upon that sand before that ocean beneath that setting sun surrounded by that salty scent, but then they'll be off to the Greek Islands on an adventure that will bring them full circle in heart and soul.

Where are you today?

Photo © 2005 Fred Voetsch. All Other Content © 2009 Madeline Smyth. All Rights Reserved.

Beauty Loves the Beast (Continued)

Let's have some fun today.

On June 1, 2009, I did a post entitled "Beauty Loves the Beast."

Here, have a look:

Why does Beauty love the Beast? It's a mystery.

Today, I went to our local zoo. Being a supporting member, I stop in often, but this time, I went with my son's third grade class on a field trip. And as always, I found this:



"They've just got to have it," my mother often told me during my teenage years, as if to justify the male's sexual desires and freedoms. Well, contrary to her belief, they apparently don't "got to have it." Today, once again, Mr. Silverback, Mr. Mane, and Mr. Spots slept away soundly, while eager females circled them in their habitats.

After two years at our zoo, Mr. Silverback has yet to impregnate any of the four females in his harem. In fact, he will let only one of them even come within arm's reach of him. And Mr. Mane has two females in his harem. To his fortune, the vets put down an older male not long ago. Yet, Mr. Mane sleeps on. For God's sake, I don't visit the zoo with a desire to smell dung, but with a hope to see diddling!

I did notice that one female resident was in luck. Mr. Peacock, who'd been walking around the zoo (as he is often wont to do), saw a female of interest. Suddenly, his feathers lifted and burst into a magnificent fan of blues and greens, catching not only the attention of the object of his desire, but also that of every passing female. What a show of male beauty! I must admit it was more impressive than the puff up of any man's lap taffy.



It seems to me that if Mr. Silverback were to pound his chest, or Mr. Mane to let out a kingly roar, or Mr. Spots to leap from his boulder in a single bound, all nearby females would turn in interest. All past wrongs would be forgotten. All desires would be stirred. And perhaps all yearnings would be fulfilled. Sadly, though, I suspect this is unlikely. No doubt these males will sleep on, awakening only when the time comes for them to exert their domination and continue their line.

So, why does Beauty love the Beast? Is it because he denies her, making her yearn for him all the more? Is it because when he desires her, he shows his interest so impressively and unequivocally? Is it because he can fulfill her with his desire, making her forgive him for all those endless hours of denial? Perhaps so. Perhaps not. It's a mystery, even as it's a certainty.

***
In response, Kelly Fitzpatrick, Golden Heart® finalist (for her wonderful Pleasant Lake, P.D., which I had the pleasure and honor to judge in a local RWA chapter contest), and author of Lily in Wonderland (coming soon from Cerridwen Press), left this comment:

"Lap taffy. Now that’s funny. I kid you not, if my hubby could get a Lazy Boy recliner with a built in toilet and a fri[d]ge for his Coke, he’d be set."

Kelly is one of the few people in this world who can make me laugh. Wanting to return the favor, I left a reply comment. Since then, writing friends have challenged me to repeat my comment, but prove I am brave enough to do so in a public post rather than an embedded comment. Now, I would think they'd know I never fail to meet a challenge, but apparently not.

So, for them, for you, and even for dear mom, here it is (with a few revisions, as I can never resist my love for revision):

Beauty Loves the Beast, a Reprise

The scent of burning wood filled the house, as rain pelted the windows on a late autumn day. Kelly walked down the hallway, glancing into each passing room, searching for her lover. She wanted nothing more than to climb into bed with him for the afternoon, and let him make wild love to her with his romantic words and bold caresses.

"Score!" he shouted.

She paused in the doorway. "Have you seen my book ... Shanna ... the one with the orange cover?"

He leaned forward in his chair, his gaze glued to the television screen. "Uh?"

She sighed. "Never mind."

His fist shot into the air. "Yeah!"

Spotting the book on the rug near the hearth, she crossed the family room and bent over to pick it up. A rainy Sunday afternoon with Kathleen Woodiwiss' sexiest hero was just the thing she needed to fulfill those yearnings and ease those frustrations. Oh yes, Ruark Beauchamp didn't spend his Sunday afternoons watching football, or any of the other balls. No, he tamed high-spirited wenches, sailed tall ships, and battled Caribbean pirates.

The hair on the back of her neck twitched, as if sensing instinctively that someone was watching her. She dismissed the thought that her chair potato might have glanced her way. His gaze never strayed from the television screen on Sunday afternoons. For years, watching men play with their balls had held more appeal to him than letting her play with his. He was no Ruark Beauchamp.

She grabbed the book. "Let's spend the afternoon making wild love, my rogue."

"Mmmm." His voice drifted across the room.

Still bending over, she glanced at him from between her spread legs. Good God, was he ogling her ass? No, he must be looking at something else. But laser beams burned through her jeans, no doubt seeing her ass in all its glory. Was it still as succulent as a peach, as he had once said, or from bearing the fruit of his seed, had it not become as wide as the Grand Canyon? He shifted in his seat, as if ...

Could he actually want ...? A bolt of something hot and sizzling hit her, shooting through her body in all directions before settling between her thighs. Could it be that long forgotten thing called sexual anticipation? It had been so long she couldn't be certain. But she bent lower, lifting her ass higher in the air, and shifted from one hip to the other, wanting to see if she could entice him.

He bounded from his chair. Good God, but he could separate himself from it on a Sunday afternoon for something other than to use the bathroom or grab another Coke! His fingers went to the button on his jeans, those old and tattered jeans that hugged his love package and tight ass so snugly. Down went the zip and out came the lap taffy. Before she could straighten and back away with a mixture of delight and shock, he pounced on her. His hands slid over her hips and around. Down went her zip and more.

He moaned. "Such a juicy peach!"

No, it was more the Grand Canyon, but if he thought otherwise, she certainly didn't intend to disabuse him.

He gripped her hips. "You're one hell of a woman, Kelly mine."

His words filled her heart and made her flower blossom. In that moment, all wrongs slipped away into the past, and all desires stirred into an inferno. His denial week after week had made her yearn for him all the more, and his desire now on this rainy Sunday afternoon made her forget all those endless hours of denial.

She dropped the book. "Yours ... only yours ... always yours."

He pressed forward, filling her with the sweetness of his lap taffy. He was no Ruark Beauchamp. No, he was more, so much more. He was her husband, lover, best friend, and the father of the fruit of her womb. Her love for him was a mystery, but a certainty, for he was, and always would be, her everything.

She pressed back against him, bringing him deeper. "Slow and gentle, and then fast and hard, if you will, my rogue."

"Only and always, wench."

...

So, there, dear writing friends, is my comment in a public post.

Now, as I'm always one not only to meet a challenge, but also to vanquish my challengers, I offer you this tasty tidbit for further consumption:

...

He moved slowly and gently, teasing her. "Is this what you want?"

She sighed. "Oh, yes."

For a time, she needed no more, but having been denied for so long, she soon couldn't deny she needed all and some. She pushed back against him, inviting him to take all he wanted and more. He picked up the pace, but then slowed, and after a moment, picked up the pace again, but then slowed. What was this—some kind of new male torture of the needy female?

She twisted around, willing to beg if need be ... that is, until she saw his face turned toward the television. Her gaze followed his. The quarterback threw the ball, and her rogue slowed, but then a wide receiver plucked it from the air and took off down the field, and her rogue picked up speed. Good God, he moved to the action on the field!

All wrongs reared their ugly heads, and all desires burned to ashes. His denial week after week might have made her yearn for him all the more, but his lack of desire for her and only her on this rainy Sunday afternoon made her remember all those endless hours of denial. Her flower shriveled up. She jerked away. Out went his lap taffy and up went her jeans.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

She spun around. "What's wrong? I'll tell you what's wrong." She bent and swiped Shanna from the rug, but couldn't resist a quick yearning glance on the way up. "I'd rather spend my Sunday afternoon with a pirate who wants to tame his high spirited wench than a chair potato who prefers to watch men play with their balls!"

His brow furrowed. "What?"

The male was such a clueless beast, needing it all laid out for him. But she was one furious pussy who knew that, though words were the weapon of every woman's soul and balm of every woman's heart, in that moment there were no words that could stir his savage breast or soothe her ruffled fur. Desire for another beast was a female's only option when confronted with male rejection.

She waved the book in the air. "I'm going to bed with Ruark Beauchamp."

He had the utter gall to glance at the television. She flounced out of the room, hoping against hope he'd follow, but knowing with all certainty he wouldn't. No, he couldn't pull himself away from the television on a Sunday afternoon, not even to rut—man's God-given fail proof pleasure of all pleasures. God should've given this gift to women, who certainly would've known what to do with it, but he hadn't, probably in punishment for women's foibles. Damn Lilith for having denied Adam.

"Get rid of it!" he shouted.

Get rid of it! Her mouth formed into a grim line. Those men and their balls, every one of them—baseball, football, basketball, et cetera. Yeah, get rid of it. He'd be lucky if she didn't get rid of him.

"Go ... go ... go ... yeah!" His roar followed her down the hallway. "Touchdown!"

Touchdown! It had better satisfy him during the long damp night to come, for her flower was one field he wouldn't run, and his balls were one touchdown she wouldn't make.

The sound of bare feet striking oak floorboards made her glance absently over her shoulder. He strode down the hallway toward her, passing the doorway to the kitchen ... and the bathroom. She paused and turned. Where was he going if not to grab a Coke or use the bathroom? She heard the game in play. No Tivo button for him to hit, as the machine had gone on the blink during the first half. Wow, he'd pulled himself away from the family room other than during a commercial break!

He settled those laser beams upon the juncture of her thighs with serious male intent. Could he want ...? No, it was only wishful thinking, not possible reality. He picked up speed, closing the distance between them. Dear God! She stumbled back a step, suddenly uncertain in the face of a beastly male bent upon the pursuit of his God-given pleasure. Bending down, he lifted her over his shoulder, and straightening, carried her off toward the bedroom.

She hung upside down, her juicy peach higher in the air than it had ever been, her gaze dropping down over the back of him. Oh yes, those old and tattered jeans did marvelous things for his tight ass. He strode into the bedroom and across to the four-poster—that bed she'd bought at an estate sale with him in mind, that bed which fairly begged for the love play of a male from another century. Her favorite fantasy of silk corset, heaving bosom, tossed up petticoats, and unbuttoned breeches tumbled through her mind.

"So, you've got another lover, have you?" he accused.

"One who'd want me to play with his balls, not watch other men play with theirs," she shot back.

He laughed as he dumped her onto the bed none too gently. She rolled away, intent upon denying him as he'd denied her, but he came over her, pinning her face-down to the bed. Never had he been so rough ... wickedly so. His knee slipped boldly between her thighs, but his hands feathered along her arms. Never had he been so gentle ... delightfully so. It was nothing less than torture.

"Give it to me," he demanded.

Oh, yes! She turned her cheek into the brush of his mouth, and lifted her peach into the bulge of his love package. But he made no move to take her. Instead, he swept Shanna out of her hand. In his strong masculine hand, the book fell open to the first love scene, for she'd read it hundreds of times over the course of almost three decades, most recently in the four-poster, imagining her chair potato rolling her around with the masterful expertise of Ruark Beauchamp.

"What are you doing?" she stammered.

"Why, I've come to tame my high-spirited wench, of course." He skimmed the pages, seeing into her secret world. "Aye, Shanna, my love, the bargain is fulfilled. But what, then, of the vows we exchanged?"

She rolled over beneath him and tore the book from his hands. "Go away, Jack."

He grinned wickedly. "No."

She turned her face away, refusing to look at him. But she felt his heat, smelled his scent, and tasted his desire. She fought, but couldn't resist. His thighs pressed against hers; his love package fit snugly into the cradle of her hips; his wild Irish hair fell about her face. He brushed his lips against her cheek, trailing a path from her mouth to her ear. It was dirty pool ... no, something more treacherous.

"I'm one lusty pirate in dire need of some booty, and you're one high-spirited wench in desperate need of some taming." His breath tickled her lips. "Ah, Kelly mine, the marriage vows are fulfilled. But what, then, of the bargain?"

Her eyebrows narrowed. "What bargain?"

He gave her a chiding look. "Didn't you offer to play with my balls if I didn't watch other men play with theirs?"

Before she could think of a decent comeback, he touched his mouth to hers. His warm tongue glided along her lips, and parting them, slipped between and into her mouth, plundering and conquering. It was a kiss of sweet savagery, a kiss worthy of Ruark Beauchamp. And in a bed that hadn't seen the likes of such mastery for perhaps as long as a century. Wow! How could she deny the undeniable? How could she resist the irresistible? And he knew, of course, damn him.

His hand slipped between them. Down went his zip and out came his lap taffy once again. But this time, down went her jeans and out came her flower in full blossom. He thrust forward, impaling her, taking her with none of the hesitation of a man of his own century, but with all of the confidence of a man of days long gone. Oh my, but never had his taffy stretched so long and wide, nor her flower blossomed so fully and sweetly.

"Now, where were we, wench?" he asked.

She feathered her fingers over his tight ass, angling inward. "Sailing calm seas in search of a raging storm, my rogue."

He slipped his hands beneath her, and while gripping her juicy peach, let unfurl all his sails, taking her into the eye of the perfect storm. Beyond their four-poster berth, some men played with their balls, and others shouted as they watched. But in that moment, her rogue sailed his tall ship and tamed his high-spirited wench ... while she played with his balls.


Kelly Fitzpatrick Comment © 2009 Kelly Fitzpatrick. Photo of Tall Ship Courtesy of PDPhoto.org. All Other Content © 2009 Madeline Smyth. All Rights Reserved.

Do Writing Contests Crush Your Spirit or Encourage Your Creativity?

Do you hesitate before opening those returned non-finalist contest entries? Have you ever stared at your computer screen in shock at the nasty things some contest judges say (the ones who never put their name on the score sheet, of course)? Do you get excited when you find that one golden nugget among contest comments (usually from a published or soon-to-be published author) that sends you not only back to the manuscript with an idea for revision, but on to another contest with the hope for a better result?

We have all been there, sad to say. And we all have the battle scars to show for it. But I have something to share with you that came out of the 2009 Golden Gateway Contest, something I hope will give you hope, even if just a glimmer. Sometimes, you find yourself orbiting the right planet, or perhaps it's that the judges happen to be orbiting your planet. And when this happens, you feel as if your world is perfectly balanced, as if it's rotating on its axis and revolving around the sun just as it should be.

I entered three entries into the 2009 GG Contest—Captive Hearts, Deus ex Nosferatu (Book One of The Vampyre Chronicles), and The Loving of Lord Loxley (Book One of Lady Marianna's Diary). Captive Hearts had won the 2008 Wallflower Contest (a contest in which published and unpublished authors had competed against one another), but that contest had been a 25 page contest. The 2009 GG Contest permitted up to 55 pages for novels, and up to 45 pages for novellas. So, for Captive Hearts, it would be a test of the next 30 pages, and for Deus ex Nosferatu and The Loving of Lord Loxley, it would be their first appearance in any contest.

I had no expectations whatsoever. Contests are contests. I've said it before (see my April 3, 2009 post entitled "Can You Hear Your Voice?"), and I'll say it again. "When you lose a contest or receive a rejection, don't take it to heart. It mightn't be as complicated as the possibility that you don't have voice. It might be as simple as the fact that you didn't have the luck of the judicial or editorial draw." So, when I heard that all three of my entries were finalists, I realized I'd had the luck of the judicial draw for each of them. In sum, I'd drawn judges who'd heard my voice.

But the experience of having judges hear your voice isn't only about them telling you what makes your writing good. It's also about you listening to them tell you what could make it better. Yes, even when you have entries that final, you should grab hold of any and all golden nuggets in the comments. As I've said before (see my May 30, 2009 post entitled "Revisions, Revisions, Revisions"), I believe my words aren't written in stone, but are as fluid as an ocean.

In the 2009 GG Contest, the judges not only gave encouraging compliments, but also made excellent criticisms. I considered each criticism and made revisions before submitting the entries for the final round. No matter what happens in the final round, I'll come away with manuscripts that are better post-contest than pre-contest. So, for hearing my voice in this contest, giving me several precious golden nuggets, and encouraging me to write, I sincerely thank the judges.

Have you gotten back contest comments that crushed your spirit or encouraged your creativity? If the former, I am here to tell you that contests aren't always a negative experience, but sometimes can be a very positive one. Yes, it's actually true—contest judges can encourage your creativity. With the 2009 GG Contest judges' words of encouragement in my mind, I'm off to write, write, write, leaving you with my words of encouragement: If it can happen to me, it can happen to you.

Keep Writing!

All Text © 2009 Madeline Smyth. All Rights Reserved.

2009 Golden Gateway Contest Results

 

The results are in for the 2009 Golden Gateway Contest. All three of my entries are finalists. Here are the titles and categories:

Captive Hearts ~ Finalist, Single Title Category

Deus ex Nosferatu (Book One of The Vampyre Chronicles) ~ Finalist, Romantic Novella Category

The Loving of Lord Loxley (Book One of Lady Marianna's Diary ~ Finalist, Romantic Novella Category

Thank you to all judges.

Congratulations to all finalists!

And last, but not least, I've a special word for the non-finalist entrants (especially those who have never finaled in a contest): Don't despair, but just keep writing, as this moment will pass and your moment will come.

Author of Near Perfection Revealed!

Who is the author of Near Perfection?

Do you remember my posts about Near Perfection—that outstanding entry I judged in the 2009 Winter Rose Contest? If not, let me remind you. I first encountered Near Perfection in the 2009 Winter Rose Contest. I'm a tough judge because I was an English major, but a fair one because I am a lawyer. I always explain my reasoning for a low score and suggest possible revisions for a higher score in the future; I never let a score in one section influence a score in another; I always put my name on the score sheet because I never say anything to anyone that I'm not willing to stand behind. I gave Near Perfection an almost perfect score.

To my delight, Near Perfection became a finalist in the 2009 Golden Heart® Contest (see my prior post entitled "Hook, Line, and Sinker"). But then, to my shock, a month or so later, it didn't final in the 2009 Winter Rose Contest (see my prior post entitled "Contest Woes"). Well, now, to my disappointment, but not to my surprise, it didn't win the 2009 Golden Heart®. I say "not to my surprise" only because, with each passing day, I come to realize more firmly that there is little room in the romance world for truly unique voices.

When I first saw Near Perfection on my screen, I will confess I reared back with the thought: "What is this?" But I'd made certain pledges to the 2009 Winter Rose Contest entrants (see my prior post entitled "A Promise to Contest Entrants"). So, I took a deep breath and then took another look, and within a page or two, I couldn't pull away. After my second or third burst of laughter, DH asked, "What's so amusing?" He knows it takes a lot to amuse me. I read him a couple of my favorite lines. DH, who can be quite perspicacious, said, "She'll either go nowhere or everywhere. That's what happens with true talent." He should know, as he's not only a graduate of Columbia, but Eastman School of Music.

Well, I'm delighted to tell you that the author of Near Perfection has taken the first step on her journey to somewhere, and hopefully, everywhere. And I'm honored to have been one of the authors who recognized and appreciated her talent in her pre-publication days. So, what is the true title, and who is the secret author, of Near Perfection?



The title of Near Perfection is Pleasant Lake, P.D. and the author of Pleasant Lake, P.D. is none other than 2009 Golden Heart® finalist Kelly Fitzpatrick.







And here is Kelly's first step on that journey:

Welcome to Wonderland! Population in the four digits. Folks in Wonderland primarily die of old age or hunting accidents, but all that's about to change because Lily Tucker has come to town.

Lily in Wonderland ~ coming soon from Cerridwen Press

CONGRATULATIONS TO KELLY FITZPATRICK!

Question Mark Photo © 2005 Leo Reynolds. Licensed under Creative Commons. Kelly Fitzpatrick Photo and Lily in Wonderland Cover and Blurb © 2009 Kelly Fitzpatrick. All Other Material © 2009 Madeline Smyth. All Rights Reserved.

Release of Spanish Magnate, Red-Hot Revenge

Today, Lynn Raye Harris' Spanish Magnate, Red-Hot Revenge from Harlequin Presents hits the stands. Do you remember the 2009 HP Instant Seduction Contest? That's where we saw the first chapter and synopsis. After HP announced that Lynn was the winner, Lynn did a post on the I (Heart) Presents website, drawing many aspiring authors into her new and exciting world. Now, those authors can be there with her at the end of that journey.

Congratulations, Lynn, on your first release!

P.S. Bring my autographed copy to Nashville, Tennessee.

Welcome to My Followers and Lurkers

WELCOME TO MY FOLLOWERS AND LURKERS

You follow or lurk. Yes, that means YOU. I see you stop by my blogspot, but I'd like to hear your voice. So, come on Australia, Brazil, England, Germany, and Italy. Come on Mountain View, CA, Washington, DC, Buffalo, NY, Houston, TX, and Seattle, WA. Leave a comment, or at the very least say hello. I'll be watching and waiting for you to emerge from the shadows.

© 2009 Madeline Smyth. All Rights Reserved.

Romance Writing and Law, Part II

In a prior post entitled "Romance Writing and Law, Part I," I wrote about the inherent dangers of romance authors creating plots involving legal concepts without the consultation of an attorney. Today, I'd like to give a few examples of often used, but legally problematic, plots. Before doing this, I want you to understand I appreciate that authors have used these plots, editors have bought these stories, and publishers have printed and sold these books for years (and will continue to do so). However, this doesn't make the plots legally viable.

Here they are (in the order in which I've seen them most often appear):

1. The "Hero and Heroine Must Marry to Inherit under a Will" Plot. The heroine and hero must marry under the terms of a will in order to inherit. Under the laws of most states in the U.S., a condition is unenforceable if it encourages disruption of a family relationship, discourages formation or resumption of such a relationship, or seriously interferes with a beneficiary's freedom to obtain a divorce or exercise his or her freedom to marry. So, it is highly unlikely that a court would enforce a will provision requiring the heroine to marry the hero in order to receive a bequest or devise under a will, and vice versa.

2. The "Hero Wrests Control of the Family-Owned Company from the Heroine" Plot. The hero wrests control of an American privately-held (often a family-owned) company from the heroine by getting one or more stockholders to sell his or her shares. Privately-held companies and all its stockholders are parties to a stockholders' agreement that restricts the stockholders from transferring their stock. The purpose of a stockholders' agreement is to prevent an outsider from becoming a stockholder.

3. The "Hero Pulls Off a Secret Take-Over of a Publicly-Traded Company" Plot. The hero takes over a publicly-traded company by swooping in and buying up a controlling interest on the New York Stock Exchange, thereby wresting control from the heroine. I don't know where to start with this one. Suffice it to say that take-overs (usually by one company of another) are strictly regulated, highly publicized, and often bitterly opposed affairs.

4. The "Hero's Sperm is a Misfired Bullet" Plot. The hero stores his sperm at a sperm bank, and the facility mistakenly uses it to impregnate the heroine. I saw this last in a story set in New York in which the hero was an unmarried Arab prince or sheikh concerned about his line of succession. I couldn't get past the first few pages. The most common method for a man to provide his sperm at a sperm bank is masturbation, but masturbation is forbidden under Islam. Should I bother to go on and point out that a wealthy and powerful Arab would most likely not be a bachelor, but have a wife (if not four wives) ready, willing, and eager to receive his sperm? So, even if a plot set in the United States doesn't violate applicable federal and state laws, it might well run afoul of the laws or culture of the land of the hero or heroine, making it less likely for that hero or heroine to engage in the behavior required by the plot.

5. The "Heroine Acts as a Gestational Surrogate Carrier" Plot. The unmarried and motherless heroine carries a baby for another couple, sometimes with the hero being the genetic and biological father, and the genetic mother not be in the story. Some states, such as Texas, have a gestational surrogacy statute. Among a few of the specific requirements, the gestational surrogate carrier must have already had a child to qualify as a carrier, the couple and surrogate must enter into a court-approved agreement prior to the creation of the child at issue, and upon the birth of that child, the genetic mother will be automatically listed as the mother on the birth certificate.

Most romance authors can't resist creating plots involving the corporate, trusts & estates, and family law areas, perhaps because they provide a juicy way of forcing a hero and heroine together either as partners in business or marriage. I do think there are ways of using these areas of law to create viable and exciting plots, but authors shouldn't attempt to do so without consultation with an attorney. Yes, romance writing is about creating a fantasy, but it shouldn't be about committing the fantastical.

© 2009 Madeline Smyth. All Rights Reserved.

Writing Historical

I write historical as well as contemporary novels and novellas. By far, my favorite period is Victorian England. In fact, I've just finished an historical paranormal novella and historical erotica novella, both of which are set in Victorian England, though during different decades. For the former story, I read the London newspapers of the day, and for the latter story, I checked dozens of words in an etymology dictionary. When writing historical, I take great care with the facts because I appreciate that I risk losing readers at the first sentence with an historical inaccuracy. Readers of historical romance love not only the battle between a hero and heroine, but the world building of another time and place.

Over the years, I've picked up historical information from history courses taken at university and from reference books found in libraries and on my own reference shelf. Also, I should give credit to DH, who was a History major at Columbia College, for his generosity in sharing his knowledge. As to daily life in 19th century England, I've learned quite a bit from novels written during that period, read mostly during my days as an English major at university. Sometimes, though, when I'm writing, I encounter a fact that makes me pause. Whenever this happens, I stop writing and head to the library, even if it means hoofing it over rather than pressing a few buttons.

For any historical romance writer who has had to do this, you know that some questions don't lend themselves to quick answers. These questions usually don't have to do with the facts of wars, politics, and so on, which historians have documented so well, but with the facts of daily life. For example, in 19th century England, at what time of the day did one make morning calls (which, by the way, did not occur during the morning)? What were the rules of whist? When it came to houses with names, what was the difference between a court, grange, hall, house, manor, and park? Which was worth more--a guinea, sovereign, crown, shilling, or farthing? And my personal favorite: How did one address the younger sons of a duke, marquess, and earl?

I had heard of the book entitled What Jane Austen Ate and Charles Dickens Knew by Daniel Pool. This book has been around for a while, since 1993 actually. Yet, I must confess I read it only a few months ago. What a pleasant surprise! It's not only easy and enjoyable to read, but also full of obscure information for the historical romance writer, including answers to all the above questions and many more. And if nothing else, it makes a lasting impression as to one very important point: Take great care with historical facts. So, if you write stories with a setting of Victorian England, consider adding this wonderful book to your reference shelf, as I've done.

Happy Writing Historical!

© 2009 Madeline Smyth. All Rights Reserved.

Sailing Against the Wind

"To reach a port we must sail, sometimes with the wind, and sometimes against it. But we must not drift or lie at anchor."

Oliver Wendell Holmes

When I graduated from high school more than a quarter of a century ago, I had to choose a quote for the yearbook that defined "ME." Most of my friends chose quotes from lyrics by the great musical bands of the day, but I chose the above quote by Oliver Wendell Holmes, though none of my friends had ever heard of him. I hadn't thought about it in years ... that is, not until today, and only because of something my critique partner wrote me. As my followers and lurkers know, my friend's son-in-law is struggling to come out of a coma, but now let me share that my critique partner's brother-in-law is fighting to survive cancer.

These days, tragedy surrounds my critique partner and me, and yet we take care of hearth and home, we work in our professions, and we write from our hearts and for our souls. Oh yes, we write, perhaps now more than ever. A couple of months ago, we committed to writing and polishing a new novel by the end of summer. Now, though, perhaps we write not only to fulfill our commitment, but also to create a fantasy to escape our reality. My critique partner and I are much alike in this way: We sail, sometimes with the wind, and sometimes against it, but we sail, not drift, nor lie at anchor.

© 2009 Madeline Smyth. All Rights Reserved.

Vigil for a Victim

A whisper from my soul to his:

You stand upon a threshold, wanting to step into the light beyond you, being held only by a call from the darkness behind you. Hear now the plea of my words and turn back. The light is that of God's hand, not beckoning you to Heaven, but sending you back to Earth. Your wife, your children, your loved ones need you. Let go of God and come back to them. See now the light of my candle and follow it through the darkness.

© 2009 Madeline Smyth. All Rights Reserved.

Where is Madeline Today?

Eleven days ago, a friend’s son-in-law was struck by a car, sustaining life-threatening injuries. He is not only a dear son-in-law, but also a beloved husband, the father of a young child, and the father of twins due in a few months. He remains in a coma on full life support with injuries too tragic to detail and with his beloved wife and family at his bedside. Every moment of every day for the past eleven days, I have had this thought: He must survive and endure for his wife, for his children, for his loved ones, for himself.

These past eleven days, I have been reminded also of another tragedy, one that I do not think of often, but one that is with me always. Once, long ago, in another life, I was in an horrific train accident. Trapped, I looked death in the face, and although I saw a white light just ahead beckoning me into eternity, I came back through a tunnel of darkness to my loved ones. During the first two years following the accident, among other things, I had to relearn how to walk. But my greatest challenge was to overcome my loss of belief in God ... and myself.

In the darkest moment, and in the loneliest of places, I had to look deep within my soul. I had only two choices—to yield in defeat or fight for victory. I chose to fight. From that moment forth, I pushed the boundaries of my limitations. I defied the predictions of my doctors. I refused to succumb to the realities of my loss. In the end, I had only one challenge to meet, one fear to conquer, one monster to defeat. It was not enough to walk. I needed to be what I had been before the accident, or at least as close to it as I could be.

Confronting my greatest fear, I stood on the top of a mountain. If I could ski again, something I had once done as well as I could walk, I knew I would have then conquered my injuries, both to body and soul. I sent DH on ahead, needing to be alone to do the one thing only I could do. When I pushed off and started my descent, I took the greatest leap of faith in my life. Within moments, I felt my weaker leg buckling under the onslaught of the vibration and the ski jumping almost uncontrollably. The urge to succumb raged. I thought, “It’s going to fly apart.”

I could have shifted my weight and skied the rest of the way on one ski, but I didn't. I dared, “Fly apart, then.” I pushed those boundaries. I defied those predictions. I refused to yield. In that moment, I rose like a phoenix from the ashes of tragedy and loss. And today, because of that single moment in my life now so long ago, I believe I can do anything and everything ... except keep this young man on Earth if God intends to take him to Heaven. But I hold onto this thought: Where there is life, there is hope. Where there is love, there is strength. Where there is faith, there is miracle.

So, where am I today?

I am standing on the top of that mountain once again, looking out toward the Heavens, calling down to this young man, beckoning him to defy his fate and demand another destiny. Oh yes, he must survive and endure for his wife, for his children, for his loved ones, for himself. And when he reaches the top of the mountain, a place where only survivors of tragedy have stood, I want to leap with him into the abyss because I want to watch him rise like a phoenix from the ashes, as I once did.

Are you a survivor of tragedy? If so, hold onto hope for his family that he will come back to them, lend him your strength to climb our mountain, and when he reaches the top, come with us and take that leap of faith once again.

© 2009 Madeline Smyth. All Rights Reserved.

Beauty Loves the Beast

Why does Beauty love the Beast? It's a mystery.

Today, I went to our local zoo. Being a supporting member, I stop in often, but this time, I went with my son's third grade class on a field trip. And as always, I found this:



"They've just got to have it," my mother often told me during my teenage years, as if to justify the male's sexual desires and freedoms. Well, contrary to her belief, they apparently don't "got to have it." Today, once again, Mr. Silverback, Mr. Mane, and Mr. Spots slept away soundly, while eager females circled them in their habitats.

After two years at our zoo, Mr. Silverback has yet to impregnate any of the four females in his harem. In fact, he will let only one of them even come within arm's reach of him. And Mr. Mane has two females in his harem. To his fortune, the vets put down an older male not long ago. Yet, Mr. Mane sleeps on. For God's sake, I don't visit the zoo with a desire to smell dung, but with a hope to see diddling!

I did notice that one female resident was in luck. Mr. Peacock, who'd been walking around the zoo (as he is often wont to do), saw a female of interest. Suddenly, his feathers lifted and burst into a magnificent fan of blues and greens, catching not only the attention of the object of his desire, but also that of every passing female. What a show of male beauty! I must admit it was more impressive than the puff up of any man's lap taffy.



It seems to me that if Mr. Silverback were to pound his chest, or Mr. Mane to let out a kingly roar, or Mr. Spots to leap from his boulder in a single bound, all nearby females would turn in interest. All past wrongs would be forgotten. All desires would be stirred. And perhaps all yearnings would be fulfilled. Sadly, though, I suspect this is unlikely. No doubt these males will sleep on, awakening only when the time comes for them to exert their domination and continue their line.

So, why does Beauty love the Beast? Is it because he denies her, making her yearn for him all the more? Is it because when he desires her, he shows his interest so impressively and unequivocally? Is it because he can fulfill her with his desire, making her forgive him for all those endless hours of denial? Perhaps so. Perhaps not. It's a mystery, even as it's a certainty.

© 2009 Madeline Smyth. All Rights Reserved.

Revisions, Revisions, Revisions

Revisions, revisions, revisions are to writing what location, location, location is to real estate.

I write a story from beginning to end in one fell swoop, but I always go back and layer in more complexity of plot and characters in expanded or additional scenes. This is just the way I write. I'll do several drafts before I even think of polishing or proofreading a manuscript. I suppose my final manuscripts are the result of frenzied writing, intensive self-editing, and fine polishing. My motto: WORDS ARE NOT WRITTEN IN STONE, BUT ARE AS FLUID AS AN OCEAN. And for me, that's the enticement of writing.

I must admit that, from my work as a corporate and securities attorney, I was well acquainted with the concept of revision before I ever started writing seriously. For clients, I revise complex legal documents, often as many as four or five drafts for a single deal depending on the parties' negotiations. But I think revision—a love for change as well as for improvement—is just in my nature. In my gardens, in which you can find me as early as five in the morning except during the winter, I move shrubs and perennials around every season. Last year, I moved a young tree (a weeping cherry). Yes, a tree. And it survived the transplant, although my marriage almost didn't survive its journey!

So, you can imagine how I embrace, not abhor, an editor's request for revision. Before I had an editor, I would sometimes labor over a revision decision. Should I go this way or that? Now, I have someone who loves my stories, but who pushes me to reach beyond myself. We both have the same desire—to seduce readers with my words, to satisfy them with my stories, and to leave them with a yearning for more. In essence, I travel along a road, and if I hesitate when coming to a fork, she sends me down the right path. Together, we get to the desired destination. It is a partnership, as such a relationship should be. What could be better?

Are your words written in stone, or are they as fluid as an ocean?

Come ride my wave of words with me ... and entice me to ride yours with you.

© 2009 Madeline Smyth. All Rights Reserved.

The Single Biggest Writing Mistake

I've written about the ten most common writing mistakes (see my 1/24/09 post entitled "Ten Common Writing Mistakes"). Among the greatest culprits: back-story dump, lengthy narrative, passive voice, dialogue tag overuse, head hopping, slow pacing, telling rather than showing, unrealistic actions/ reactions, poor characterization, and lack of GMC. I failed to add a few simple mistakes, such as clichéd plots, goofy dialogue, and repetitive wording, thinking they were obvious. But upon reflection, I also failed to mention the single biggest writing mistake. What was I thinking ... or not?

In my humble opinion, here it is: ASPIRING AUTHORS OFTEN WRITE THE STORY THEY WANT TO TELL, NOT THE STORY READERS AND EDITORS WANT TO READ. How can I explain this? Well, imagine that you are a reader standing in an airport store looking for a good book to pass the time on a long international flight, or that you are an exhausted editor sitting at your desk having to go through a pile of manuscripts on a Friday afternoon or Saturday morning. What do you want? An interesting plot, fast pace, well-developed characters, good writing? Actually, the answer is simpler than that.

And once again in my humble opinion, here it is: READERS AND EDITORS WANT TO BE SEDUCED—SWEPT OUT TO SEA, CARRIED ALONG UPON MIGHTY WAVES, TOSSED GENTLY BACK ONTO THE SHORE. Whisper in their ears, intrigue their minds, tempt their hearts, inspire their souls. Oh yes, seduce them! That is what readers and editors hope for when opening to the first page, and by the way, that is what will make them hunger for more after reaching the last. And it's the only reason to write, isn't it? If you are like me, you have used your words to draw others into the make believe world of your mind since childhood.

Now, go back and read your manuscript, as if you are a reader or editor. Does it seduce you? Do you become so mesmerized while reading the first few paragraphs that you don't look up until after the first hundred pages or so? Do you have to continue until you reach the end, no matter what time of day or night it is, no matter what other responsibilities await? If not, rewrite the story, not the one you want to write as an author, but the one you want to read as a reader.

Happy Writing!

© 2009 Madeline Smyth. All Rights Reserved.

A Contest Promise Fulfilled

Last week, I received a handwritten thank you note from a contestant in the 2009 Winter Rose Contest. Yes, a handwritten note posted through the U.S mail and brought to my door by Debbie, my mail carrier. Over time, I've received many thank you notes from contest entrants, but never one that was handwritten. What a lovely surprise! I never forget a contest entry, and so, Virginia, I have a couple of words of encouragement for you. Keep writing!

P.S. I hope your thank you note means I kept my promise to contest entrants (see my 1/24/09 post entitled "My Promise to Contest Entrants").

© 2009 Madeline Smyth. All Rights Reserved.

Is There a Sisterhood Among Romance Authors?

I’ve heard romance authors claim that a sisterhood exists among them. And who would dare challenge this? After all, this is the world of pink slippers and fuzzy blogs, hugs and giggles, cyber champagne and chocolates. Many authors might see the truth behind the illusion, but few would dare expose the reality, and yet most secretly admire those who do so. Ergo, the appeal of Smart Bitches Who Love Trashy Books. Reviled or Revered? Perhaps not either, but an odd combination of both.

I have a mentor—the beautiful, talented, and generous Janice Lynn. She has given me her valuable time and invaluable guidance (see my other posts labeled “Janice Lynn”). If a sisterhood exists, I think Janice might be one of its few members. She doesn't need to mingle only with other published authors so as to confirm her success. She doesn’t need to see aspiring authors fail so as to ensure her success. Instead, she seeks her place in romance writing history, not only by turning out new novels and befriending other published authors, but by being generous to aspiring authors and discovering new voices among them. However, with the exception of Janice, I've come to the conclusion that "The Sisterhood” is mostly a great lie.

I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that the business of publishing is no different from any other industry. Having graduated from law school with honors, and having risen successfully through the ranks of a large law firm, I know a little something about competition. In this other world, though, I compete mostly against men, not women. And the truth is that men compete differently from women. They don't hide behind saccharine sweetness and pleasant platitudes. They are right in your face, daring you to take them on, challenging you to defeat them. It's a bit like doing hand-to-hand combat with someone in the light rather than being stalked by someone with a knife in the dark.

As I said in a post earlier this year, I am a rebel, willing to fight for what I believe, willing to fall for what I stand. So, I’ll say what other authors wouldn’t dare: For the most part, published romance authors are greedy for continued success and aspiring romance authors are envious of other authors' success.

The first time I saw an aspiring author attack another was in connection with a Harlequin contest. Shortly after Mills & Boon announced the winner’s name, RWA released the results of the Golden Heart® contest. The winner of the Harlequin contest was a Golden Heart® finalist. Soon after, an aspiring author, who mistakenly confused the Golden Heart® and RITA® contests, and so thought the winner was a published author, publicly attacked the winner (as well as Harlequin). She cast a dark shadow over the contest. Were all the entrants on equal footing? That is, did the Mills & Boon editors know the winner was to be a Golden Heart® finalist? Did they consider other factors, such as the winner's other contest wins and active internet presence? Perhaps so. Perhaps not. But if so, this is merely the nature of the publishing business. An author isn’t chosen only for talent, but marketability. Why couldn't the jealous aspiring author see that her time and energy would have been better spent improving her own marketability, not trying to destroy another's?

The bitter jealousy of aspiring authors seems to turn into an insatiable greed for continued success in some newly published authors. I’ve seen newly published authors go so far as to publicly say distasteful things, such as: “Don’t ask me to introduce you to my editor or agent.” This is done on the pretext that their editors and agents are too valuable to approach with unsolicited manuscripts, but in reality this is done because they fear they aren’t valuable enough to their editors and agents. Can’t they see how such a statement is tantamount to displaying their insecurities in bright lights? Don’t they realize they risk losing their first and most loyal group of readers who may well come from the pool of aspiring authors? Don’t they believe they can succeed on their merits, not another’s failure?

An aspiring author shouldn't have to ask a published author for help. Not long ago, a famous published romance author commented on one of my loops that an aspiring author gave her a partial manuscript she found so exceptional she sent it on to her own editor. I won’t place her in The Sisterhood because I understand she was acquainted with the aspiring author in some way. However, this author clearly understands that editors are always on the look out for fresh new voices, regardless of the size of their slush piles. Moreover, she knows that the introduction of a fresh new voice into the market won’t jeopardize her continued success.

Based on my experience with an editor, if I came across an exceptional manuscript suitable for her line, I wouldn't hesitate to send it on to her. I wouldn’t do this for an aspiring author based on mere friendship, but I would do it for one based on exceptional talent. If Near Perfection (see my other posts labeled “Near Perfection”) were suitable for the editor's line, I’d have brought it to her attention immediately. And it would never have occurred to me not to do so because I might end up having to compete against the other author. Competition doesn’t frighten me, but rather, encourages me to kick it up a notch.

Not everyone welcomes competition as I do, though. If the author against author isn’t distasteful enough, I’ve seen well-known published authors band together against other authors based on nationality alone. On a foreign writing group loop, I saw open and repeated bashing of Americans. They complained about the number of American authors writing for Harlequin Mills & Boon. They envied American authors’ success in the American dominated e-publishing market. They ridiculed how American authors instill a sense of undue national pride in their heroines. They queried and complimented those among them who have infiltrated the American market. They even snickered about the names of Sarah Palin’s children.

Some of my favorite non-American authors made these comments. And they did so knowing that aspiring American authors belonged to their group and could well be reading their posts. Over time, they destroyed my reader loyalty. How could I ever buy another one of their books when they clearly feel such disdain for Americans and such threat from American authors? If they want to bash Americans with impunity, why don't they close their membership to Americans? I decided to terminate my membership in the group. I can’t adequately relay the depth of my sorrow about this, except to reveal I am the American child of non-American parents.

Today, I make this personal appeal to all romance authors (whether published or aspiring, whether famous or unknown, whether American or otherwise):

NEVER BEGRUDGE ANOTHER AUTHOR SUCCESS

NEVER TURN AWAY FROM ANOTHER AUTHOR IN NEED

NEVER SELL YOUR SOUL TO THE DEVIL

GIVE OF YOURSELF WITH A GENEROSITY OF SPIRIT

GIVE OF YOURSELF WITH A PURITY OF HEART

BECOME A MEMBER OF THE SISTERHOOD

© 2009 Madeline Smyth. All Rights Reserved.

Where Is Madeline Today?

Today, I am at home in New York. I have a yearning to be with Sheikh Farūq and Aliya in Saudi Arabia ... or with Prince Nikolai and Princess Anastasia in Russia ... or with Lord Loxley and Lady Marianna in England. These are my three works in progress, all of them nearly finished. But no, I am in New York, spending time with DH and the kids, catching up with BF, attending to my gardens, preparing for my son's holy communion next weekend, etc. ... or in other words, living life to the fullest. Tomorrow, I will return to my other world, and better yet, I will do so with renewed energy and enthusiasm. My advice to other authors: Love to write, but live to love.

Where are you today?

© 2009 Madeline Smyth. All Rights Reserved.

Contest Woes

Today, my post is one of tears for an aspiring romance author.

In my February 20th post entitled "Ten Common Writing Mistakes," I wrote: "Recently, I came across near perfection in a contemporary single title contest entry. I can't explain what made it perfect. That is, I can't break it apart, and say, here are the three or thirteen or thirty factors that made it so. All I can say is that it was minus ten common writing mistakes ... and plus one indefinable something, which, for lack of a better term, I'll call "hook, line, and sinker." In other words, it was near perfection, plain and simple."

Then, in my March 26th post entitled "Hook, Line, and Sinker," I wrote: "Well, to my utter delight and absolute thrill, this contemporary single title is a 2009 Golden Heart® finalist. I did not judge the 2009 Golden Heart® Contest this year, but I did judge the 2009 Winter Rose Contest. And that's where I first saw this wonderful piece of near perfection. Congratulations to the author!"

Now, on this beautiful Easter weekend, I have taken time away from cooking, entertaining, mothering, etc. to add a postscript to "Hook, Line, and Sinker." The wonderful piece of near perfection (I'll call it Near Perfection) didn't final in the 2009 Yellow Rose Contest. Yes, that's right—an entry that is a 2009 Golden Heart® finalist didn't final in a 2009 RWA chapter contest. How can this have happened? I suspect the author might say it doesn't matter because she's a Golden Heart® finalist, but I think it does matter because it says something frightening about contests.

Near Perfection wasn't the typical contest entry. It wasn't a winning entry because of plot, characterization, GMC, hook, etc. No, don't get me wrong. It had all of those in buckets, but it had something far more extraordinary. It had V O I C E. Never have I read such a voice, not among aspiring authors, not among published ones. This author has an unparalleled facility with language, as if the words roll back and forth over the tongue before spilling out to overflow the reader's cup. More, when you lift this golden cup to your lips, you take a sip of what appears to be mineral water only to feel the effects of the headiest red wine.

In my April 3rd post entitled "Can You Hear Your Voice?" I wrote: "When you lose a contest or receive a rejection, don't take it to heart. It mightn't be as complicated as the possibility that you don't have voice. It might be as simple as the fact that you didn't have the luck of the judicial or editorial draw." Well, the author of Near Perfection didn't have the luck of the judicial draw in the 2009 Yellow Rose Contest. I suppose Stephen King is right about being successful at writing—it takes talent, perseverance ... and luck.

I've decided that contests can mean little to nothing, no matter that some aspiring authors think a contest win is the equivalent of the Holy Grail. Most judges (especially those who are aspiring authors) look for a reason to shoot down entries, often on the basis of their prejudices and especially when stories are outside of the box, whereas editors (at least those editors who don't do series category) seem to like stories that don't look like a thousand others they've read, or in other words, stories that are outside of the box. Perhaps for this reason I've come across contest winners who have never published and published authors who have never won a contest.

Before you place your writing soul in the hands of judges, know this unspoken truth about contests—contest wins can hinge on luck, not talent. If all you're looking for is some feedback from mostly other aspiring authors, and don't mind paying for it, go for it. However, if you're thinking you can win a contest on talent alone, or that an RWA chapter contest win or two is going to lead to publication, or any of the other scenarios in which your writing dreams are fulfilled, you might want to rethink your expectations of contests.

© 2009 Madeline Smyth. All Rights Reserved.

Can You Hear Your Voice?

What is voice? It's an author's individual fingerprint. Every author has an individual fingerprint, but having VOICE (a marketable individual fingerprint) is something you either have or don't. And when you have VOICE, it can be your blessing ... and your curse. It can bring readers to you, hold you back, and propel you forward.

Can you hear your voice? I know quite a few authors who discovered their voice through a judge's or editor's ear. Recently, a writing buddy, who has been beating her head against the wall, learned from an editor that her voice is single title contemporary, not series contemporary. Another writing buddy realized from a judge that her voice was suited more to historical than contemporary. Have you considered that your voice might not be suitable for the subgenre you love to write? What a shocking thought, no?

So, you can hear your voice. Now what? The shocking truth is that, to become a published author, you need to not only have voice, but also luck that an editor will hear your voice. When you lose a contest or receive a rejection, don't take it to heart. It mightn't be as complicated as the possibility that you don't have VOICE. It might be as simple as the fact that you didn't have the luck of the judicial or editorial draw. One day, hopefully sooner than later, you'll cross paths with a judge or an editor who'll hear your voice among the crowd.

Happy Writing!

© 2009 Madeline Smyth. All Rights Reserved.

Hook, Line, and Sinker

In my February 20th post entitled "Ten Common Writing Mistakes," I wrote: "Recently, I came across near perfection in a contemporary single title contest entry. I can't explain what made it perfect. That is, I can't break it apart, and say, here are the three or thirteen or thirty factors that made it so. All I can say is that it was minus ten common writing mistakes ... and plus one indefinable something, which, for lack of a better term, I'll call "hook, line, and sinker." In other words, it was near perfection, plain and simple."

Well, to my utter delight and absolute thrill, this contemporary single title is a 2009 Golden Heart® finalist. I did not judge the 2009 Golden Heart® Contest this year, but I did judge the 2009 Winter Rose Contest. And that's where I first saw this wonderful piece of near perfection. Congratulations to the author!

© 2009 Madeline Smyth. All Rights Reserved.

Romance Writing and Law, Part I

I have a secret life. When not writing romance, I practice law. I know it's a bit of a shock (although perhaps it would be more of a shock for my legal colleagues to discover that, when not practicing law, I write romance). After all, how can someone who writes about love also love to swim with sharks? All I can chalk it up to is that romance writing stirs my feminine heart, while practicing law intrigues my “not so very feminine” mind.

This week, my two worlds intertwined interestingly.

Let me take a step back. A couple of weeks ago, DH's law school invited us to sit as appellate judges for first-year law students’ oral arguments, which are traditionally done at this time of year. It works this way: three appellate judges sit on the bench, one law student makes the appellant's oral argument for ten minutes, and then the other law student makes the appellee's oral argument for ten minutes, with the judges interrupting to ask much-dreaded questions that expose the weakness of the arguments. Honored to be invited, we accepted.

Late last night, the materials (e.g., lower court decision, appellate bench brief, instructions about check-in and judges’ dinner, etc.) arrived in our inboxes.

DH’s materials arrived first. As soon as I saw his appellate bench brief on the screen, I shuddered. Student, music, dirty lyrics, Sarah Palin, politics, school suspension --> First Amendment. It's right up DH’s alley. However, appreciating the truly complex nature of First Amendment cases, I have to admit I was relieved I hadn't gotten this one. I said to him, “Oh, I hope mine is a Fourth Amendment case. Give me a bloody knife or smoking gun.”

Moments later, my materials arrived. No eyes have ever read as fast as mine did last night. Biker bar, slain DEA agent, warrantless search of beach shack, bloody knife, questionable identification of suspect by bartender --> Fourth and Fifth Amendments. Oh, yeah! DH said to me, “Well, you got your bloody knife.” He went off to do something fun, but I sat and read the appellate bench brief for two more hours.

This morning, I said to DH, “I twisted and turned all night. In my case, the lower court decision is over 10 pages, and the appellate bench brief is almost 30 pages. Over the next few days, I’ve got to get a handle on at least a dozen Fourth and Fifth Amendment cases decided by the U.S. Supreme Court and 9th Circuit Court of Appeals.” He was surprised that I was so anxious, given I was calm during my oral argument (which, as it so happens, was 22 years ago this month), and given I'm known for my steel backbone in legal practice.

Here's the reason I'm freaking out: This isn't the legal world of la-la-land—beautiful female lawyers in chic suits with designer shoes, manicured hands, and trendy hairstyles … and gorgeous alpha male lawyers who somehow ended up in law rather than in acting or modeling. This is the legal world of reality—always complicated and challenging, often tedious and boring, and rarely exciting or rewarding. And for me this coming week, it will be the legal world of constitutional law—a world where ordinary and tired looking, but brilliant and nimble minded, lawyers dance on the head of a pin while splitting legal hairs. It is a world as far removed from the world of romance as the Earth is from the moon. Oh, and I suppose it goes without saying that there usually isn't a chic, designer, manicured, trendy, or gorgeous anything in sight.

This upcoming experience (not to mention the lower court decision and appellate bench brief staring me in the face on my screen) has served as a reminder of the dangers of writing romance with legal aspects. ROMANCE AUTHORS WHO AREN'T LAWYERS SHOULD TAKE GREAT CARE IN WRITING A STORY INVOLVING ANY ASPECT OF LAW. FOR THAT MATTER, THEY SHOULDN'T EVEN ATTEMPT TO DO SO WITHOUT A LEGAL CONSULTANT WITH WHOM THEY CAN CONFER. Publishers and editors didn't just fall off the back of a turnip truck. They may not know the ins and outs of the law or legal world, but they certainly know an author needs to know it from up close and personal experience, or at the very least know someone who knows it in that way. Why? Because romance readers come from all walks of life, even from the legal world (surprisingly, many female lawyers read romance novels).

Some romance authors know this without needing me to hammer them over the head. One such author is my CP, Marie Robison. For her story, Cottage by a Lake, in which the heroine is an unhappy criminal defense lawyer, she has drawn upon my legal knowledge and personal experience. I've been impressed with her determination to get the legal details right, her ability to wrap her mind around the more complex concepts, and her understanding that she needed to hit the right balance in the story (introducing just enough accurate legal details to titillate the readers without boring them). And I think her readers will appreciate her talent, energy, and effort. By the way, Cottage by a Lake took First Place in the Unpublished Division: Love Scene category of the 2008 FTHRW Wallflower Contest. And Berkley has requested a partial!

I've worked also with authors who, although not making either hero or heroine a lawyer, built their stories around legal issues, such as a fight for control of a company. For example, I exchanged e-mails with Lynn Raye Harris, 2008 Golden Heart® Finalist and Harlequin Presents 2008 Instant Seduction Contest winner. Lynn immersed herself in corporate and securities law, absorbing a tremendous amount of complicated legal details in a short time. As she has said, she included too much by way of legal detail in the early revisions of her winning entry, but after realizing her mistake, she cut out the snooze material. In these company control stories (so popular with HP), you need only the right business structure in the background to make the story accurate. By the way, Lynn's winning entry, The Spanish Magnate's Revenge, will be released by Harlequin Presents as Spanish Magnate - Red Hot Revenge this coming August.

But whether an author puts in too much legal detail (which can be cut out easily), or puts in just the right amount from the get go, she is leap years ahead of the author who ignores the constraints of the law. After I worked with Lynn, many wannabe Harlequin Presents authors contacted me, asking for similar help. I can remember one in particular who was trying, to say the least. She wanted to focus an entire story around the hero's and heroine's fight for control of a company, but she didn't want to learn any of the fundamentals of corporate or securities law. This is a well-settled area. There is very little maneuver room. She decided the plot of her story vis-à-vis the fight for company control could be whatever she wanted it to be, regardless of fundamental legal concepts, because her only goal was "get the heroine and hero into bed." Her story hasn't been published. Why? Because publishers and editors didn't just fall of the back of a turnip truck.

And so, the purpose of today's post is to compliment those romance authors who exercise caution when it comes to legal matters ... and to chastise those who do not.

© 2009 Madeline Smyth. All Rights Reserved.

Where Is Madeline Today?

Today, I am in Russia with Prince Nikolai, my delicious vampire, and Anastasia, his first love interest. Although I should like to stay and chat, I must run, as I have left my prince standing naked with sword raised before Anastasia in his bedchamber. Oh my, but he is so very delicious ... and Anastasia is absolutely desperate to have a bite of him!

Where are you today?

© 2009 Madeline Smyth. All Rights Reserved.

My Best Friend

Do you have a best friend with whom you share your hopes and dreams, your successes and failures, your joys and sorrows? Do you have a best friend with whom you make up two sides of a coin? Do you have a best friend without whom you would not want to go on?

I do ... and today I thought of what my life would be like without her.

7:05 A.M. - BF is at the hospital by now. I didn't call her yesterday. No, I knew I'd rail about hospitals and surgery, given that I've had a rough recovery from my recent emergency appendectomy. But perhaps most of all I didn't want her to hear the fear in my voice. Should I have called her anyway, though?

8:00 A.M. - BF is in surgery now. What if something goes wrong? No, the thought is too much for me to wrap my mind around.

10:30 A.M. - BF is in surgery still. What if it doesn't turn out as she hopes?

11:50 A.M. - BF is in surgery still. But what if it turns out to be all for which she has hoped?

2:25 P.M. - BF is in surgery still. What did she say? Was it six or seven hours that she'd be on the table? Is she in recovery yet? I'll have to wait for the call from BF's DH, which BF said should come by 4:00.

4:00 P.M. - No call from BF's DH.

5:00 P.M. - No call from BF's DH.

6:00 P.M. - No call from BF's DH.

7:05 P.M. - I just picked up the phone and absently checked caller ID. BF's DH called just after 2:00 P.M. I called him back straight away. BF is in recovery (wow, five hours in the recovery room!), resting uncomfortably, but she has come through, and will endure.

And so, we'll journey on together. She'll hear my words and silence, and have and hold my secrets. She'll embrace my madness and encourage my eccentricities. She'll believe in my possibilities and support my endeavors. And she'll thrill me with her adventures, inspire me with her sorrows, and delight me with her joys.

You see, how could I go on without her?

* * *

P.S. After I spoke with BF's DH on the evening of February 27th, BF crashed while still in the recovery room and ended up being transferred to the ICU. Now, though, she is home with more than one hundred staples, several drains, some heavy drugs ... and a future with all her hopes fulfilled. But I was right to fear for her, after all.

© 2009 Madeline Smyth. All Rights Reserved.

Ten Common Writing Mistakes

Judging the writing of other aspiring authors is often a lesson in the most common writing mistakes and sometimes an encounter with the most effective writing techniques. If only we could all begin as proficient writers, but as with any profession, writing requires an apprenticeship. This apprenticeship, often painful and frustrating, but on occasion exciting and rewarding, can develop and refine an aspiring author's raw talent into a powerful writing force.

In the contests I've judged, I've come across ten common writing mistakes. Before saying anything more, let me tell you that I'm not too proud to admit I made many of these mistakes in my earliest writing endeavors. Now that we've gotten that out of the way, here is my list of aspiring authors' ten common writing mistakes:

1. Back-Story Dump. Aspiring authors often embed back-story (i.e. events that happened prior to the opening of the story) in narrative. However, an author can also embed back-story in dialogue. For example, in a recent contest entry, I saw a nine page opening conversation between the heroine and another character that was a huge back-story dump about the heroine's life before the story opened. I appreciate that all aspiring authors know and love their characters and want the reader to know and love them too, but let the reader into their pasts only a bit at a time throughout the ms.

2. Lengthy Narrative. I've seen this most often in the writing of talented aspiring authors because writing narrative is a gift. I can recall an entry in which the author devoted more than a page to beautiful narrative describing a walk from one cottage to another. However, no matter how beautiful the narrative, if it is lengthy, it delays the reader's return to dialogue and loses her interest. So, try to limit narrative to no more than three short paragraphs at a clip, if possible.

3. Use of Passive Voice. Most aspiring authors know that the use of passive voice is a no-no. But they may not realize how sneaky passive voice can be. Let's take a look at some examples: "The bell was rung by the cowboy" and "He was sitting on his mustang" and "She let him dance her around the barn." Which sentences contain passive voice? Would you be surprised if I told you all three? Let's reword them in active voice: "The cowboy rang the bell" and "He sat on his mustang" and "He danced her around the barn." The secret of conquering passive voice is thinking "lights, camera, action."

4. Dialogue Tags Versus Beats. Most aspiring authors have the limited dialogue tag/beat preferable rule down cold. However, in quite a startling number of entries, I've seen authors mix one character's action or POV with another character's dialogue. For example, I recently saw something similar to this in a single paragraph: "He has just come out of surgery." Susan rose as the nurse crossed the waiting room. "All went well." So, who is speaking—Susan or the nurse? Well, the author intended for the nurse to speak the lines of dialogue, but she put Susan's action between the nurse's lines of dialogue, jarring the reader out of the story. The mixing of one character's dialogue and another character's POV or action breaks the flow because the reader has to pause to figure out who is saying, doing, and thinking what.

5. Head Hopping. This remains a problem for many aspiring authors. In an entry I judged recently, the author broke the first chapter into twelve different "scenes" (using *** between each one), sometimes to end a scene and start a new one, but other times to merely switch POV during the same scene. The result was a choppy read. In addition, with all the switching back and forth between the hero's and heroine's POV, she mistakenly started a new scene at a point in time prior to the end of the prior scene. This is especially jarring to the reader because she must pause to figure out where the characters are in time, and so, she loses the flow of the story. Use *** between scenes only where there is a significant time lag and/or location change, not for a small time lag in the same scene. As to POV, write a scene from one character's POV, or switch POV about half way through the scene (that is, until you are a published author and need not follow The Rules any longer!).

6. Slow Pacing. Back-story dumps and lengthy narrative can lead to slow pacing, but IMHO, the most common cause of slow pacing is the aspiring author's choice of scene. For example, if an author places the heroine at a table having a conversation with a friend, or walking through the forest or driving in the car by herself, she is condemning the scene to slow pacing. An action scene with the heroine and hero drives a fast pace; a reflective scene with only the heroine or hero crawls at a slow pace. Structure the story to put the hero and heroine together on the page as soon as possible and try to keep them together on every page thereafter with a lot of action around or between them.

7. Told, Not Shown. Aspiring authors often tell readers about their characters rather than show them. For example, he is honorable, she is kind, etc. Instead, create a scene to showcase the hero's honor or heroine's kindness. Do you see how the choice of scene can affect not only pacing, but also characterization?

8. Inadequate Characterization. Many aspiring authors rely upon back-story for characterization. When they are denied back-story, they can flounder with characterization. There are many ways to breath life into your characters—setting the scene to portray the character(s), using dialogue to characterize, using deep POV to draw a reader in. Most importantly, don't hold critical material back from the reader. Let her into the heroine's and hero's thoughts to make her feel their emotions. As my mentor, Janice Lynn, has written: "The characters have to come alive. From the get-go, you have to get the reader/judge inside the character’s head, make them feel the emotions the character is feeling." Or as she has told me more than once: "Emotion, Emotion, Emotion!"

9. Unrealistic Actions/Reactions. There is perhaps nothing that will try the reader's patience and lose her interest faster than when a story has a character with unjustified, unrealistic actions/reactions. In an entry I judged recently, the writing was exquisite, but on the first day that the hero and heroine met, the hero told the heroine he intended to marry her (his desire to marry her seemed to be based only on her beauty). Have a care with characters' actions/reactions. A reader will accept almost anything by way of a character's action/reaction, but only if the author has laid the groundwork to justify that character's action/reaction.

10. Lack of Goals, Motivations, and Conflicts. I've seen stories with the hero and/or heroine having no goals (other than falling in love with one another) as well as stories with no conflict between the heroine and hero. The most beautiful writing in the world can't overcome this deficiency. As Janice has written: "Doesn’t matter if the contest is for 3 pages or for 55, if you don’t establish that there are goals, motivations, and conflicts, odds are you aren’t going to final, even if you have a fabulous writing voice and your style is as smooth as satin." So, give your hero and heroine goals, motivations, and conflicts (both external and internal). Without GMC, there isn't a story you can write that is worth telling.

Recently, I came across near perfection in a contemporary single title contest entry. I can't explain what made it perfect. That is, I can't break it apart, and say, here are the three or thirteen or thirty factors that made it so. All I can say is that it was minus ten common writing mistakes ... and plus one indefinable something, which, for lack of a better term, I'll call "hook, line, and sinker." In other words, it was near perfection, plain and simple.

When I judge the writing of other aspiring authors, I often spot mistakes I can't spot in my own writing ... and sometimes see perfection I can't match with my own words. It is such an eye opener, more valuable than any writing workshop. So, if you are an aspiring author who is serious about writing but has never judged a contest, I highly recommend you judge a contest or two or more.

Happy Writing and Judging!

© 2009 Madeline Smyth. All Rights Reserved.

A Writer's Dream Fulfilled

Several months ago, I entered a contemporary story in a RWA chapter contest. As with all contests, neither the judges nor entrants knew the identity of the other. I was honored when my entry finaled and later took first place. Afterwards, I sent a personalized thank you e-mail to each of the judges via the contest coordinator. When, almost three months later, I hadn't heard anything back, it occured to me that my judges might not have gotten my e-mails. I contacted the contest coordinator, and sure enough they had gotten lost along the way. So, once again, I sent the e-mails to my judges via the contest coordinator.

A few hours later, I received an e-mail from Helen Scott Taylor, the author of The Magic Knot ~ Dorchester Love Spell, 1/09, the American Title IV Winner and 2008 Golden Heart® finalist, and of The Phoenix Charm ~ Dorchester Love Spell, 12/09. Helen Scott Taylor had been one of my judges. WOW! She wrote to me: “I was actually thinking about your story earlier today all these months after judging it … What a coincidence you emailed me ... Wonderful to hear from you ... Do keep me updated on your success ... I would love to read the full story when it's published ... Most of the stories I've judged in my time have just faded from my memory, but yours has remained clear in my mind.” Helen Scott Taylor remembered my story. WOW!

In my January 6th post entitled "Are You True to Yourself as a Writer," I wrote: "I want much more in an age when much more is what everyone wants. I want Romeo and Juliet ... Jane Eyre ... The Wolf and the Dove. As a reader, I want to read fantasy woven from rich and colorful threads of reality, and as a writer, I want to write stories that will capture the soul of the reader and endure the test of time." Well, to my utter amazement and great thrill, I've accomplished my goal as a writer, and without even being published. I don't have to enter another contest; I don't have to see any of my stories published; I don't have to write another word. Why not? Because Helen Scott Taylor remembered my story ... and the truth is that I'm not sure what can top that!

Congratulations to Helen on her recent sale of The Phoenix Charm and a belated Happy Birthday!

© 2009 Madeline Smyth. All Rights Reserved.

A Promise to Contest Entrants

I am a member of Yellow Rose Romance Writers. Today, the 2009 Winter Rose Contest kicks off, and this year I'll be one of the judges. Before I agreed to judge, I asked myself, "Goodness, who am I to be a judge in a contest?" After all, what do I know that could possibly make me worthy of sitting in judgment of the words of another aspiring author? Not much, if truth be told.

Yet, I and many other authors (both published and unpublished) will sit in judgment of entrants in this contest ... and presumably other contests throughout this year and beyond. For this contest, and those yet to come, this is my prayer: May I approach all contest entries with an open mind and generous heart; may I temper my judgment with wisdom and kindness; may I give each aspiring author a gift of inspiration that she shall carry with her forever.

For the 2009 Winter Rose contest, I make the following promises to the contest entrants who are fortunate, or unfortunate, enough to get me as a judge:

1. I shall approach your entry with an open mind and generous heart, no matter the genre, setting, plot, characters, writing style, voice, etc.

2. I shall labor over reading and judging your entry as much as you labored over writing and polishing it.

3. I shall follow The Rules (see prior posts) to the spirit, but not to the letter.

4. I shall try to make the 2009 Winter Rose Contest a positive experience for you.

5. Lastly, and perhaps most importantly, I shall not do anything to shatter your soul as an aspiring author.

I make these promises in honor of Wend Petzler, the author of Curse of the Scarab King, Blood Keep, Whisper to Me, and Lady Thief, who once judged a contest entry of mine with an open mind and generous heart, who tempered her judgment with wisdom and kindness, and who gave me a gift of inspiration that I'll carry with me forever.



Good luck to all the entrants of the 2009 Winter Rose Contest!

Madeline Smyth

© 2009 Madeline Smyth. All Rights Reserved.

Where Is Madeline Today?

Today, I am in Saudi Arabia with Sheikh Farūq ibn Zayed al-`Azīz and his love, Aliya. I can't stay to chat, as I have left them at a rather crucial moment, but I wanted to share my world with you.

Where are you today?

© 2009 Madeline Smyth. All Rights Reserved.

Are You True to Yourself as a Writer?

Last weekend, I watched Masterpiece Theatre’s 2006 production of Jane Eyre, starring Toby Stephens as Edward Rochester (I first noticed this actor, who is the son of Dame Maggie Smith and the late Sir Robert Stephens, when he played the arrogant Gustav Graves in the Bond film Die Another Day). Anyone who knows me will know what I’m going to say next. It is an excellent production (sensual and lavish), but it isn’t true to Jane Eyre. Among other things, it rushes through the Gateshead Hall and Lowood School opening (my favorite part), changes some of the Thornfield Manor scenes, shortens the St. John Rivers diversion, and alters the ending. In all truth, I have to admit I’ve never seen a production of Jane Eyre that has been true to the story. Perhaps it’s just an impossible endeavor.

Anyway, as I watched the Masterpiece Theatre production, I was struck by something that is true to the original story, but which I'd forgotten—Jane Eyre and Edward Rochester fall in love from the first moment (well, perhaps not when he almost tramples her with his horse on the path as he returns to Thornfield Manor, but definately by the time she plays the piano "a little" for him during their first meeting in his study), but powerful external conflicts (i.e. her station in life and his mad wife in the tower) come between them and almost keep them from having a HEA. Now, I don’t think anyone could deny Jane Eyre is one of the most beautiful love stories ever written, but I wonder whether if it were submitted in modern form to contest judges today, might it not be criticized because it doesn’t follow The Rules (see my 1/1/09 post for more on The Rules).

I wrote a manuscript last year in which the H&H fall in love almost from the first moment but powerful conflicts threaten to destroy their fragile love and prevent them from having a HEA. One of my writing buddies, who I confess is more knowledgeable about The Rules than I am, told me the beginning of my story should be the ending. In other words, my story should be devoted to the impediments to the H&H falling in love, not to them having a HEA. The H&H don't want to love one another, but in the end, do ... rather than the H&H want to love one another, but until the end, can't. Apparently, this is one of The Rules. However, a couple of published authors read and loved this particular story of mine, and an editor recently told me it is "fresh and gripping," but then, published authors and editors aren't constrained by The Rules.

So now, if Charlotte had been following The Rules, Jane’s and Edward’s beginning would have been their ending. In other words, Jane would've heartily disliked Edward (after all, he is unattractive and provocative, and if not for his great wealth, would not be received in many a drawing room) and Edward would've thought Jane completely unsuitable (after all, she is plain, poor, and unconnected, and so, unmarketable) for hundreds of pages as they denied their undeniable attraction while trembling in one another's presence until they had an earth-shattering awakening and realized they were meant to have a HEA. But the beauty of Jane Eyre is that Edward, having been trapped in a marriage through societal convention, loves Jane and defies convention for the very reason she isn't beautiful, rich, or titled ... and Jane, having suffered the despair of the wretched, loves and forgives Edward because she appreciates the loneliness of his heart and desperation of his soul.

I love to revise as much as I love to write, but after much deliberation, I've decided not to gut my manuscript to comply with this particular one of The Rules. I don't want my H&H reasoning for tens of thousands of words that the other is undesirable or unsuitable while trembling in one another's arms and breathing heavily into one another's mouths. IMO, men and women are attracted at first sight and begin to fall in love from their first words, whether or not there are impediments to a future. However, if they are faced with impediments they can't overcome, they are apt to fall out of love as easily as they fell in ... and never have a HEA. And it's these impediments to a future, and the sacrifices men and women are willing to make in the moment (a moment that may never come again), that intrigue me.

To this, my writing buddy argues romance is fantasy, not reality. I must reply to this as a reader, not writer. I'm tired of author contrivances. That is, I don't want miscommunications, misunderstandings, pigheadedness, foolishness, etc. to be the reason the H&H don't get together until the end of a book. I want much more in an age when much more is what everyone wants. I want Romeo and Juliet ... Jane Eyre ... The Wolf and the Dove. As a reader, I want to read fantasy woven from rich and colorful threads of reality, and as a writer, I want to write stories that will capture the soul of the reader and endure the test of time. I want my H&H to struggle, suffer, and sacrifice to have one another, and I want my reader to journey with them through this darkness into the light.

So, this particular manuscript of mine may never be published or even read by another reader, but I’m content with it … and, at least with respect to this one aspect (that is, whether the impediment in a story should be one to the H&H falling in love or having a HEA), albeit with respect to no other aspect, I’m in the good company of the late Shakespeare, Brontë, and Woodiwiss. I can settle for that. After all, what aspiring author couldn't? Unfortunately, my refusal to comply with The Rules won't endear me to any of those who zealously follow them. I dare say it's a good thing, then, that I've always been a rebel ... willing to fight for what I believe, willing to fall for what I stand.

Are you true to yourself as a writer? Do you withstand a gale force? Or do you sway with a gentle breeze?

© 2009 Madeline Smyth. All Rights Reserved.

A Tribute to My Mentor—the Beautiful, Talented, and Generous Janice Lynn

This is the start of a new year, and with the promise of its endless possibilities, I want to take a moment to look back to the best of the old year with a tribute to a very special person who has profoundly influenced my life as an aspiring romance author.

For aspiring authors, writing can be a lonely endeavor, not when you're moving about the stage breathing life into your characters, but when you’ve written the last word of that scene or that chapter or that manuscript. How do you know if what you’ve done is any good? Yes, you can turn to best friends, critique partners, and contest judges, but how do you assess the subjective comments of so many, and especially of those who aren't editors or published authors. How do you decide what comments to take or toss? And, always there lurking in the back of your mind, how do you know if you have what it takes?

I lived in this shadowy and uncertain world until last year when a multi-published author took me under her wing and taught me how to fly. Now, my world isn't made up of shades of gray, but a palette of pure white, brilliant blue, vibrant green, burning orange, and bold red. Because of one very special person, the new year is filled with endless possibilities. Who is this person who colored my world? And what did she do to fill my New Year with such promise? Come with me. Read on about her ... and my moment in time with her.

Let me tell you about my mentor—the beautiful, talented, and generous Janice Lynn. As many of you know, but for those of you who mightn't, Janice is a beloved wife, adored mother, practicing nurse, American Title Winner, 2003 Golden Heart® finalist, multi-contest winner, and multi-published author. When it comes to her writing, all her contest wins and releases are too numerous to list, but I'll mention a few, if only to wow the aspiring authors in the crowd.

Her first release was Jane Millionaire ~ Dorchester Love Spell, 2005, the American Title I Winner and 2006 Golden Quill Winner for best first book. Among the many positive reviews, Suzanne Coleburn of Reader To Reader Reviews/The Belles & Beaux of Romance wrote: "Don't miss this fabulous book. Janice Lynn is definitely an author to watch!" and The Romance Studio, 4 hearts commented: "After reading Jane Millionaire, you'll want to keep Janice Lynn on your authors to watch radar."

No wonder then that her 2007 release entitled The Doctor's Pregnancy Bombshell ~ HMB Medical 11/07 became the 2007 National Readers' Choice Award Winner. What a thrill she had to win this award at the RWA National Conference in San Francisco last summer! Also last year, she had two releases for Harlequin: The Heart Surgeon's Secret Son ~ HMB Medical 3/08; and The Doctor's Meant-to-be Marriage ~ HMB Medical 5/08.

This year, we'll see several more of her releases: Surgeon Boss, Surprise Dad ~ HMB Medical 2/09; The Doctor's Meant-to-be Marriage ~ HMB Medical 4/09 (US version to tie into the eHarlequin read); eHarlequin.com Medical read ~ May 25, 2009; The Playboy Doctor Claims His Bride ~ HMB Medical 8/09; and The Nurse's Miracle Baby ~ Mills & Boon Presents 11/09. And, for 2010, Janice currently has two scheduled releases, although both are still untitled.

Needless to say, Janice is on the go 24/7/365. Yet, when Helen Scott Taylor, author of The Magic Knot ~ Dorchester Love Spell, 1/09, the American Title IV Winner and 2008 Golden Heart® finalist, approached her with the idea of being my mentor, she generously agreed. I don't run in the circles of the Janice Lynns and Helen Scott Taylors of the writing world. A year ago, my only connection to Janice and Helen was From the Heart Romance Writers, which, by the way, I can't recommend highly enough to aspiring authors.

Oh, how anxious Janice was at the outset, perhaps even more than I was! It must be daunting to take on the role of mentor to an aspiring author, especially when you don't know the nature or abilities of your protégé. I suppose she must have asked herself, "Will she get angry with me if I'm honest?" or "Will she ignore my advice after I've given her my valuable time?" or "Why am I doing this?" But, as she soon discovered, I was ravenous for a dish of her guidance. How relieved she was when I welcomed and embraced every comment! But I'll share a secret—her relief with my love of revision couldn't possibly have outmatched my delight with her advice on revision.

So, what made it work so beautifully? I can only say that it was as simple as this—Janice heard my voice in the darkness ... and I saw the light of her lantern as if it were a beacon calling me home.

Contrary to many critique partners and contest judges, Janice's focus isn't about showing not telling, beats not dialogue tags, active not passive tense, fast not slow pacing, etc. For those of you who are new to writing, these are some of "The Rules" (those rules usually unknown to new writers, zealously followed by aspiring authors, and often disregarded by published authors). No, rules aren't Janice's thing. She's interested in substance—GMC, emotion, reactions, characterization, hook—and in voice. With her gentle guidance, I revised and polished until my story was my story, but written with greater depth and breadth, and yet written in my voice.

In retrospect, even though our time together was to make golden my words, Janice's words, not mine, fired the lantern that lit my darkness. Last year, she wrote to me: "You have VOICE. All the other stuff can be fixed, but VOICE is one of those things you either have or don't have." And this brings me to my final thought about Janice as my mentor and her most profound gift to me as her protégé—she discovered me, and in her discovery, I found myself as a writer. Perhaps that's the thing I needed most from her and she didn't let me down.

Now, with Janice's golden words lighting my way, I fly alone just beyond her wing, soaring in the brilliant blue toward the burning orange, breathing vibrant green into my characters, and painting a pure white canvas with streaks of bold red ... knowing that, with her generous spirit, she'll spread her wing over me should I falter and fall back to Earth.

And so, to you, Janice, I make this tribute from the depth and breadth of my heart and soul.

© 2009 Madeline Smyth. All Rights Reserved.

Craft Learned, Innocence Lost

The January issue of Romance Writers Report came in the mail today. For those of you who aren’t published or aspiring romance authors, this is a magazine that includes articles on the craft of writing and business of publishing. Among other things, it tells you what to do and what not to do—character development musts and mustn’ts, query letter dos and don’ts, and so on—and it provides vital information such as market trends, editor reassignments, etc.

Whenever I receive the RWR, I feel conflicted, eager to open the cover and yet, hesitant to do so. Don’t get me wrong. Since I became serious about writing, I’ve learned a lot about the craft of writing and business of publishing from RWR (and other sources). Now, for me, no more back-story dumps, dialogue tags, head hopping, slow pacing, etc. But tragically, with my development as a writer, I’ve lost my innocence as a writer, which I fear I’ll never find again.

If you are a writer, has this been your experience? If so, do you lament the loss of your innocence?

© 2009 Madeline Smyth. All Rights Reserved.

Where Is Madeline Today?

Today, I am in London with Prince Nikolai, my Russian vampire, and Lady Catherine, his vampire mate, for whom he has searched for five centuries. Sadly, I will be leaving Prince Nikolai and Lady Catherine soon, but on a brighter note, I will be spending more time with my prince, as I journey into his past ... and introduce him to the first love of his life.

Where are you today?

© 2009 Madeline Smyth. All Rights Reserved.