Maggie Wells-Margaret Ethridge
Love Without Limits
We’ve been the lucky ones. My grandfather served in WWI. My father (Europe) and three uncles (Pacific) in WWII. I have nephews and friends who have served in various branches of military and civilian service over the years.
They all came home safe and sound.
So many were not lucky.
This weekend, we celebrate those who died to protect and serve the freedoms we cherish. Rest in peace and know that this grateful nation will forever be in your debt.
Not long ago I reposted this picture on social media:
So true.
But it takes some of us a long time to learn that. This past weekend was Mother’s Day. Fodder once again complained about how hard it was to shop for me because I have everything I want/need. I have a jewelry box that is mostly neglected because I wear the same pieces most days. My electronics are not the latest models, but in fine working order – I’ll update when I have to, thankyouverymuch.
He’s resistant to buying me the one thing that’s always a hit – gift cards for book buying – because a) he thinks it’s taking the easy way out, and b) he’s worried I may have a book hoarding problem.
He may be right about the second one.
So, I hauled him out to garden center, pointed to four hanging baskets of flowers, and said I NEEDED them for the carport and porch. The man was pleased to accommodate my needs, and all were happy.
The thing is, I think I’m really easy when it comes to gift giving.He knows I like to rescue flowers from the supermarket bargain bin:
Anything that allows me to grow my own creature in a bowl:
Socks:
And, I love homemade cards – particularly those with inside jokes, or characters I love. Like Woodstock. Our daughter knows this. Check out my awesome card:
I like spring evenings spent hanging around the homestead…watching the man teach a four year-old how to start fires.
And I like watching said four year-old and his granddad enjoy their first s’mores together. (Seriously. I think he’s been living under a rock. The man was a Cub Scout, for cripes sake!)
But the best things in life really aren’t things. They are puppy cuddles:
Melty marshmallows:
And heart-melting smiles:
What are some of your most precious non-things?
Okay, maybe it won’t be, but this week’s blog topic is inspired by a liquor store advertising poster, so you can’t expect too much.
Let’s talk about the Dos Equis Most Interesting Man in the World. Unquestionably, this has been on of the most successful campaigns for any beer not produced in St. Louis, MO. At one time, everyone was talking about The Most Interesting Man in the World. Why?
Because “He lives vicariously through himself”, that’s why. The mystique surrounding the man whose “Signature won a Pulitzer Prize” was compelling. So was the face of the ad campaign, Jonathan Goldsmith.
Mr. Goldsmith was in his late 60s when the campaign began in 2007, but handsome enough to make the non-beer-drinking segment of the population consider sipping a cold one.
His sexy silver fox looks helped make it believable that he was allowed to touch he art in museums. Or that in Spain, he chases the bulls. We totally bought into the swagger because he looked exactly like a man who could have/would have done all those things, just as a matter of course. Not because he set out to prove what a man he was.
But now there is a new Most Interesting Man in the World. And while Augustin Legrand is easy on the eyes as well, he just doesn’t work for me as well as Jonathan did.
Sure, he has the beard and a few laugh lines, but where are the sexy streaks of silver? To me, this new, not-so-improved version simply plays as an overgrown thrill-seeker, not an experienced man who became ‘a national treasure in countries he’s never visited’ simply by being who he was.
The switch was made to ‘reinvigorate’ the brand. It’s not working for me. I want my silver fox back, but what is a girl supposed to do when his business cards simply say, “I’ll call you”?
How about you? Have you ever fallen for the face of an ad campaign, or are you still scarred by the image of Joe Namath wearing Hanes Beautymist pantyhose?
Oh, and if you’re looking for a good electrician, here’s a referral:
Do you have a type?
I’m working on Easy Bake Lovin’ (Play Dates #2), and one of the plot points is that the heroine is about as opposite the hero’s usual type. Their attraction stirs some not-so-subtle commentary, which, in turn, leads to hurt feelings and confusion.
“Type” seems a shallow plot point on first glance, but when you think about it, most of us DO have some characteristics we gravitate toward. Types can be based on appearance, common interests and passions, and our attraction can be conscious, or sub-conscious.
Weird example: Most of my celebrity crushes were born within a year or so of the man I eventually married.
1960 was a magical year.
Obviously, this was not an intentional thing. I didn’t go looking for a man who was born within months of Colin Firth or John Taylor from Duran Duran. It just happened that way.
And upon noticing that, I realized that they all share similar physical attributes – each just a shade over six feet tall, dark not-quite wavy hair, dark eyes, squarish jaw. Check this out:
Colin plays it a little bit stuffy
John’s still rock ‘n roll
My combo deal
Fodder scoffs at this, of course, but that’s okay. It works for me, and that’s all that matters. And when I really want to bug him, I tell him I’m going to frame this:
How about you? Do you have a type?
Two weeks ago, A BOLT FROM THE BLUE released into the wild. This was a super quick labor – only about thirteen months from conception to birth. Since I am traditionally published (meaning I sell my work to a publishing house, and their team then takes over the editorial timeline and production), this can be a relatively long process.
It’s always fun to see non-writers reactions when I talk a little about the behind the scenes. It’s shocking to discover how many people think you just write a book and put it out there. With the advent of self-publishing, that is certainly possible, but if you’ve read one book that has been released without benefit of an external editor you’ll most likely agree that it isn’t preferable.
With BOLT, I was dealing with a publisher and editing team I have worked with on 5 previous publications, so it was easy for us to press the accelerator.
Here’s pretty much how the timeline played out:
I sent a synopsis to my editor on March 6, 2016, and she submitted it to the team at Lyrical Press.
On April 26, 2016, my editor said, “Yes!” Contract talks began, and I hunkered down at my keyboard to magically transform the synopsis to an actual 60k+ word manuscript.
Typing, typing, typing, typing….
May 9th – I was informed that expected delivery date on BOLT was July 1, 2017 for an April 2017 release.
Typing, typing, typing, typing….
May 23rd – sent the first chapter to the fabulous Julie Evelyn Joyce for critiquing.
Typing, typing, typing, typing….
Also on May 23rd – Publisher requests completion of Cover Art and Publication Information forms. Because I have sold the rights to this book, these forms are my last and only chance to give input on the look of the book and the message conveyed in the cover copy. Most people are surprised to find out I do not have the final say in any of that kind of stuff.
Typing, typing, typing, typing….
On June 13, I received the official contract and signed it. Wooot!
Typing, typing, typing, typing….
Sent the full manuscript for to Julie Evelyn Joyce for wizardry June 15th – she sent it back June 26.
Spent days eradicating excess instances of ‘just’, ‘that’, ‘it,’ and other favorite words from what was a 67k word manuscript.
Delete, delete, delete, delete….
July 1, 2016 – Sent 66k word manuscript to marvelous Marci, my editor at Lyrical Press.
July 5, 2016 A WILL AND A WAY releases – promo ensues.
Received the first round of edits August 7, 2016. She requested an added scene toward the end of the story.
Typing, typing, typing, typing….Send to Julie…Back from Julie…delete, delete, delete, delete….send back to Marci August 14th.
Second round of edits arrived on the 16th. Back to her the 18th.
Another round of edits from the line editor on September 2, 2016. I returned them on the 4th with some notes and questions. Marci shot them right back, and I went at it again.
Manuscript sent to my esteemed editor again on September 7th. She repaid me by sending the whole enchilada back in galley form (proofing for minor corrections only) on the 8th. I passed the hot potato on the 9th, and we put the book to bed.
Then, I ran away to the beach.
September 15th, the cover art fairy visited with this:
I squealed, then got down to writing the first book in the Play Dates series.
Typing, typing, typing, typing….
Typing, typing, typing, typing….
NaNoWriMo starts – more typing, typing, typing, typing….
November 22, 2016 – LOVE & ROCKETS releases. Promo madness ensues.
Typing, typing, typing, typing….
December 1, 2016 – Final formatted digital copies of BOLT landed in my inbox. I cooed over them, checked for any hiccups in the front/back matter. And then, the wait for April 4, 2017 began.
In the weeks around release, authors step out of their caves long enough to do some social media schmoozing and guest blogging (Read & Watch 2017, Just Contemporary Romance, and later this week, Fiction University).
The publishing industry is about as unlike what you see on TV. There’s no publicist, or even publicity budget. We arrange and pay for most of our advertising ourselves. We are not making big money. In fact, most of us make less than a dollar on each book sold.
That’s why we annoy our Facebook friends with incessant reminders that, yes, the book is available now, and yes, we desperately need reviews. That’s the biggest thing readers don’t really know.
We NEED reviews.
Not for ego-gratification, or self-flagellation, but because they allow us to leverage better marketing for our books. Seriously. There are many, many places where we cannot BUY advertising with our own cash money unless we have a certain number of reviews on Amazon or GoodReads. Most of my books do not have even the minimum, so I am BEGGING you. Please consider leaving a review in a public forum.
They don’t have to be essays or even a paragraph. I am not asking you to sing my praises. I just need an honest review on the book itself that says, “I liked/didn’t like this, because XXX”
And that’s one book’s journey to publication in an extremely long and picture-laden nutshell. I think I’ll go have a nap now…
Kidding! Kidding!
I can’t nap…I have 5 more books coming at you in the next year.
Brace yourselves!
I’ve been feeling completely unmotivated lately.
For most of this year, actually.
At first, I didn’t worry about it too much. I’d finished another NaNoWriMo in November. December had been its usual whirlwind, but with the special added bonus of a software conversion and move at the day job. Then January came, and I ran out of patience with the life I’d been living. Cue another big life change…
Is it possible I used up whatever motivation I had focusing on getting out of one day job and into the new one? Because, I don’t seem to have anything left for the writing. I’m even writing this blog post late because I am so daunted by the thought of facing this damn blinking cursor that I will do endless loads of laundry to avoid it.
It’s a phase, I know.
At least, that’s what I tell myself.
I can’t leave all those plot bunnies lingering in their hutch indefinitely. Something’s going to start to stink in there.
Every author knows the ebb and flow. Some stories pour out like water. Most are prized out with pliers. Genre fiction writers have been on a roller coaster ride for the last half-decade. As the authors who drive most of the revenue in the industry, we’ve been expected to produce more, faster, better, and cheaper than ever before. And we’ve answered the call…but at what expense?
My first book was published in 2011. Next week, my 33rd (A BOLT FROM THE BLUE) will hit the digital bookshelves. Crazy, huh? I’ve written and sold 33 novels and novellas in 6 years. Numbers 34-37 are already written and awaiting editorial. I’m scheduled for release through number 38 in the fall of 2018.
I should be riding high, right? I ought to be psyched. But mostly, I just feel tired. Like Madeline Kahn in Blazing Saddles tired.
This weekend, Fodder and I hit the flea markets and excavated some awesome old albums. I came home with this fabulous Barry Manilow double album. And while Sally may not appreciate my rendition of Weekend in New England, I totally understood where Barry was coming from when he sang about Tryin’ to Get the Feeling Again.
There are times when I worry that I’ve fallen out of love with writing. Moments when I wonder if I could just walk away from it—leave all those bunnies in the hutch to battle it out until all that’s left is one single killer rabbit of a story with nasty, pointed teeth living in a deep, dark cave.
But I won’t. I can’t. So, I’m still meditating every night. I started doing yoga again. Mainlined Grace & Frankie season 3. And, hey, look—I just wrote a 500 word blog post whining about not wanting to write.
I just…need to find a way to get my storytelling groove back. I’m hoping the Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass album I scored for $2 will help.
No, I’m not talking basketball, though, I can, I will and I do. I’m talking about the week we just had around here.
Did I tell you we had tickets to so The Phantom of the Opera this week?
I’ve seen it 5 or 6 times in Chicago and St. Louis, but this is the first time it made it to Little Rock. I made Fodder order the tickets the day they went on sale in November. We chose the Thursday, March 16th show because there were some primo orchestra center seats that would have put us near the chandelier. Since it was the man’s first time to see it live, I really wanted to see his face when the Overture started.
The best laid plans of grandparents…
Our daughter was pregnant with her 2nd, and due March 19th, so for five months, I’ve been telling her to keep her knees locked together on March 16th.
Of course, the phone rang at 5am Thursday morning. Needless to say, we missed the show, but look what we got!
Yeah, a pretty good trade, I’d say. We also got to spend a few days with my little Stinker while mommy and daddy got that whole baby brother thing sorted out. Fun and fruit snacks were had by all!
And never fear…we’ll have another shot at Phantom when it swings back around to Memphis later this year. In the meantime, I need to get back on track. And I will. Right after I finish kissing all the sugar off this baby. 🙂
Whoa! Life got me.
Yesterday, we hosted a party for our grandson’s 4th birthday, and we were so worn out at the end of it I completely forgot to post!
I hope this bit-o-cuteness makes up for my inattentive behavior. I’ll be better next week!
I had my first day at the new job this week. I think I’ll let this picture speak for itself.
No, the fountain is not in my office.
Yes, it is free.
No, I haven’t figured out how to get my mouth under there without getting a Coke Zero in my eye, but hey, dreams do come true!
Rather than bore you with the details of the first week on the job, I thought we’d play a little game of firsts, then I’d introduce you to an author who is celebrating her first release this week!
**giveaway alert**
Thanks to all who chimed in last week. Congratulations, Michelle Kelly, I’ll be sending a signed copy of LOVE & ROCKETS out to you!
This week, play along and I’ll give one winner the choice of any book from my Maggie Wells digital backlist, or a signed print copy of the first book I ever wrote, CONTENTMENT.
Here are the questions and my answers. Copy and paste into the comments, then replace my answers with yours. Ready?
****
Tomorrow, one of my fellow Kensington/Lyrical authors, Kari Lemor, will know the thrill of seeing her work out there in the world. Hard to top that for a first… Please take a moment to check out this bit from WILD CARD UNDERCOVER. Congratulations, Kari!
All that glitters in Miami is not gold . . .
Lured in by a bad ex-boyfriend and the moonlight of Miami, Meg O’Hara is trapped in a nightmare situation, waiting tables for a crime boss and fearing for her life. When undercover FBI agent Christopher Shaunessy offers her a way out, she seizes it. Getting the goods on Salazar Moreno might not be easy, but she’ll do anything to be freed from her servitude and Moreno’s sexual advances, even if it means moving in with the charismatic agent.
Chris Shaunessy pretends to be Meg’s lover in order to keep her safe, but he steels his heart against further involvement. Passion has no place in the sordid world of organized crime. And yet, the closer they get to cracking the case, the stronger his feelings for the spirited waitress shine. It’s a dangerous game he’s playing, and taking Meg in his arms for real could prove a fatal misstep . . .
Excerpt:
“Does that man never have a day off?” Margaret Kathleen O’Hara grumbled, grabbing her tote bag and sarong to move surreptitiously along the chairs by the pool. If the hotel manager saw her here again she’d be toast. He’d more than toss her out. Threats to call the police had been thrown at her for months now. Although in her case, that might be a better deal.
With her eyes trained on his location and the Miami sun beating down on her exposed skin, Meg backed along the water’s edge attempting to leave the area before he spotted her. She needed to shower the chlorine out of her tangled hair and change for work soon. He looked in her direction and she rushed behind the closest object. It was six-foot-plus of blond-haired gorgeousness. The man’s eyes were glued to something on the upper deck. Her boss was sitting there with one of his expensive bimbos. Did Blondie like that type? Maybe he wouldn’t notice her little game of .
She leaned around him, ducking back when she saw the Pool Nazi still present. Getting caught was not an option. She already owed more than she could ever repay.
“Are you okay?” Forest green eyes stared down at her, puzzled. Would he buy that she was simply looking for shade? He was big enough to provide it.
With strong hands, he reached for her shoulders and Meg reflexively batted them away. She got enough of people groping her at work. Scorching curses froze before erupting from her mouth as the hotel manager moved, staring in their direction. Her mind kicked into overdrive, scrambling for a way to hide in plain sight.
“Sorry,” she squeaked. Grabbing the man’s head, she planted her mouth solidly on his. Short, thick strands of hair tickled her fingers. Firm lips yielded no resistance to the increased pressure of her mouth. Better make this look good.
An electric current skittered over her skin causing her heart to race. Maybe too good? Slowly he pulled her closer with his muscular arms. Her eyes flew open and she broke the connection. His hair-covered chest was too close for comfort. And much too tempting. Distance, she needed distance.
Her eyes darted around, seeing no signs of the manager. A sigh escaped. Time to make her exit as well.
“Sorry,” she mumbled again, looking up. Big mistake. The stranger’s curious eyes captivated her. They were soft and tender and filled with something she could…trust? If she still had any of that left in her. His hands were gentle as they held her. A tiny smile played about the full lips she’d brazenly kissed. She couldn’t believe she’d done it. Her mother would be appalled. But it had worked.
The chlorine scent from the pool faded into the background as sweat and suntan lotion wafted off the man’s damp skin. Her stomach did cartwheels followed by a few back flips. Dangerous.
“Let me go,” she hissed as reality returned. She gave a swift shove at his well-defined pectorals, rushing to get past, to escape from this distraction and the possibility of being caught. Her head whipped around at the sound of a splash and water droplets from behind. Gorgeous was just breaking the surface of the pool. Had she pushed him that hard?
“Oops.” No time for apologies. He looked like the forgiving type. She had to blow this joint before the Pool Nazi came back. Grabbing her fallen sarong, she ran across the deck to hustle inside the luxury hotel.
“Damn.”
The manager stood sentry near the front door. A crowd appeared at her back making that way impossible. The stairwell to the left would have to do. She’d go up a few floors then down to the side entrance. She wrapped her sarong around her as she carried out her plan to avoid being seen…and caught.
Meg should stop coming here to use the pool: this proved it. Sneaking in was adding to her already hellish life but swimming always helped work out the stress and the pool here was more accessible than any other on the strip. Pretending she had money to stay in a place like this, rubbing elbows with all the beautiful people, yeah, that got her through too. She’d learned the best times to come and not be seen. Well, for the most part. It was well worth the risk to get away from her dump of a room and its enchanting neighborhood. She’d leave this all behind her soon. She kept telling herself that. Had to believe it for her own sanity.
Footsteps behind her pushed those thoughts away. Her bare feet padded silently along the lushly carpeted hallway. Heart racing, she ducked into the ice machine alcove, her sigh echoing in the silence. She glanced down. Her bag? She must have dropped it as she rushed off. How had she not realized? It couldn’t have been the threat of being arrested. Or the crooked smile of the handsome stranger she’d kissed. The one with the kind eyes and gentle hands. No, she couldn’t allow herself to be led astray by a pretty face. Not again.
She continued down the hall, her trip cut short when someone grabbed her by the arm and spun her around.
* * * *
Follow Kari Lemor on her website: http://www.karilemor.com/
FaceBook: https://www.facebook.com/Karilemorauthor/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/karilemor
Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/karilemor/
Good reads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/9756283.Kari_Lemor
One of the cornerstones of writing any type of fiction is the need for conflict. At the start of every project, writers ask themselves at least two very basic questions:
What does our hero/heroine want most?
What is standing in their way?
Obviously, we delve deeper into the opposing forces as we move forward with a book, but those are the bare-bones basics. Internal and external forces are equally important, but require a different approach. This is where I stumble over one piece of oft-repeated writing advice.
We’re often told to imagine that ultimate goal, and then throw obstacle after obstacle into the path our protagonist has to take to get there.
Warning: Unpopular Opinion Ahead
I think there are times when an author can insert too much conflict into a story. As a matter of fact, I just read a book where it was literally one thing after another, page after page. No downtime. No breather. For me or the heroine. Nothing but one supposedly funny/sad/mortifying moment stepping on the heels of the one in front of it.
After the first few hits, I stopped buying in.
I know it’s fiction, but no one’s life is that non-stop. I mean, at some point, someone has to have a bio break, right? I’m telling you I would have locked myself in a filthy gas station bathroom and never come out if I were that poor heroine.
Warning: Unpopular Opinion #2 Coming At You
The other night, Jewels was talking about the big grovel scene in books… You know the kind, the one where one character does something so unthinkable that the only way they can possibly be forgiven is if they are willing to completely prostrate themselves at the other’s feet.
Yeah, I’m not a fan.
It’s not that I don’t want or appreciate a decent grovel as much as the next girl, it’s just that I don’t think they happen all that often in real life. Therefore, the whole set-up-overblown conflict/grand gesture/grovel comes off a bit too Hollywood for me.
I’m not saying a little groveling can’t take place. But, in my experience, there’s more awkward silence after a big blow-up than grandiloquent speechifying. I’d even go so far as to say that once we get past the oh-so-dramatic adolescent stage, most conflict is resolved with less than a paragraph’s worth of words.
And forgiveness doesn’t usually come with the big prize, but rather a small gesture.
Internal conflict usually plays a big part in my novels. Sure, I add a dash of external to turn up the heat a bit, but to me the story comes from the inside out, not the outside in.
Authors are frequently told to torment their characters, but I don’t. I figure they’re better at tormenting themselves than I will ever be. I just try to capture it all and put it on the page.
How about you? Are you a fan of the grovel? Has anyone ever hit you with a grand gesture. Tell your tale, and I might be inclined to give away a signed copy of Love & Rockets in celebration of this week’s exoplanet discovery!
Oh! And there’s a newsletter hitting inboxes tomorrow. If you aren’t on my list, sign up at the top of the sidebar >>