One off the bucket list by Barbara Edwards

My husband and I traveled to Alaska and checked off one of the items on my bucket list.
We visited all fifty of the states in the Union.
As a side trip, we drove up the Dalton Highway to the Arctic Circle.                                
I can't describe the wonder of such a trip. I have thousands of photo
s.

driving the highway

Camped at the Arctic Circle with Keeno. See the mud? Rough road.

I'll share more of my photos on my blog in the upcoming weeks. Check it out on www.barbaraedwards.net.

Sugar & Spice & Everything Nice by Amber Leigh Williams

This week, my daughter turned one. Initially, she was supposed to be born at the end of April. April 29, to be exact. I remember this because it’s the same date I was due to be born thirty years ago. I made my mother wait two more weeks to be born two days before her own birthday in May. (The hub is also a May baby.) Last year as we closed in on this due date, I had a feeling our wee one was going to choose to follow family footsteps.

It was a close call. The Braxton-Hicks contractions started mid-April and seemed to gather in strength as the countdown to May progressed. Like most pregnant women in their third trimester, I was all too eager to meet my baby girl sooner rather than later. The weekend before April 29, my doctor informed me he would be out of state for a wedding and that I shouldn't have my baby until Sunday evening at the very earliest. When Monday rolled around, the hub announced that he and his fellow crew-mates would be setting trusses on a house and he needed me to hold the baby in until they were completed. Tuesday my mother, who works full-time and who I had tagged to assist in the delivery room, said was no good for her because it was her day to do pay-roll at work. When I expressed my frustrations to the hub over all this waiting, he said, “Saturday. Saturday would be best. Tell her to come Saturday.” As if it were a simple matter of conversation between myself and our fetus. “Don’t hold your breath,” I told him.

We tempted fate a bit. When April 29th did indeed lapse, we celebrated the first day of May by taking our son to the beach. The hub brought his surf-fishing gear and proceeded to catch several pompano for us to sup on later. However, as the sun shrank from the high point in the sky, our little guy began to wander away from the sand-castles and the seashells. In the impish way of toddler boys, he began to test the boundaries of our campsite, giggling as he watched my ungainly form waddle after him. The hub was busy reeling in his latest catch when the boy made a break for it. He headed due west down the endless white beach at a charging run. I sucked in a breath and ran after him.

There was no one on the beach that afternoon. Nothing and no one was there to intercept the little guy. I wound up running a half mile down the beach before he finally looked back at me, giggling like a field, and tripped over his own feet. I didn’t so much catch him as crumble next to him in relief, grabbing hold of his ankle so that he didn’t try to make another break for it. I held him there until the hub finally reached us. He slung the boy over his shoulders and dragged me out of the sand. In truth, he carried us both back to camp. On the way home an hour later, the Braxton-Hicks contractions reached fever pitch. That night, I was so uncomfortable, I didn’t sleep.

Believe it or not, we did make it to Saturday. We began to think we would make it to Sunday, too, when afternoon rolled around and still there was no sign. When my son, the rascal, nodded off for his afternoon siesta, I gratefully laid down on the couch and did the same.

I woke up feeling funny. Labor pains were a new thing for me since my son was induced and I was heavily medicated for most of his birth. I immediately asked the hub to use the app on his phone to time the contractions. We came to the conclusion that I was actually—finally—in labor.

My son was scheduled to go to his aunt and uncle’s house for the duration of our hospital stay. They live a town east of our house. We drove him over with his little bags, gave him plenty of hugs and kisses then departed quickly. I didn’t tell the hub how close the contractions had gotten because I didn’t want him to rush. He rushed anyway, pulling NASCAR-worthy maneuvers through heavy weekend beach traffic as we sped back east. It’s normally a forty-five minute drive from our house to the hospital. Thanks to the hub’s Richard-Petty-esque driving, we arrived in half an hour just before sundown and were admitted promptly.

Our daughter was born just before sunrise the following morning. She weighed eight pounds, eight ounces. Since then, we have watched her grow into the happiest, bounciest, spunkiest one-year-old we could possibly have imagined. We suspect she’ll be a real spitfire. With a mischievous older brother showing her the ropes, how could she be anything less? Here's to the miracle of daughters and the (busy) month of May!  

Amber Leigh Williams is a Harlequin Superromance author who lives on the Gulf Coast. A southern girl at heart, she lives for beach days, the smell of real books, and spending time with her husband and their two young children. When she’s not keeping up with rambunctious little ones (and two large dogs), she can usually be found reading a good book or cooking up something new in her kitchen. Amber is represented by the D4EO Literary Agency. Find out more about Amber and her writing at www.amberleighwilliams.com!

What I Learned from a First Kiss by Alison Henderson

Not my first kiss. That kiss taught me thirteen-year-old boys have no idea what they’re doing. I hope that boy has learned a thing of two in the intervening decades, but that’s another story. Or maybe not.

No, I’m talking about the hero and heroine in my current WIP, Boiling Point. As I’ve complained before, these two have given me fits from the beginning. My heroine has been breezy and confident on the surface, hiding only her qualms about her qualifications for her current job. She had refused to divulge, even to me, her romantic history. All I could do was keep writing and hope she would spill the beans when the time came.

My hero was even worse. I knew his sister thought he was a putz when it came to knowing what women want, but how many sisters are truly familiar with their brothers’ intimate relationships? I knew he was scarred by an undercover police operation gone wrong, but that’s all. Nothing about any former wives or lovers. And he’s so reticent, I feared he would never tell me.

All that changed with their first kiss.

When he took her in his arms and their lips touched for the first time, I expected the usual fireworks but no real surprises. Wrong! My heroine caught me completely off-guard. Her first reaction wasn’t lust; it was surprise and relief. She had expected fear and panic, a sense of suffocation. I had no idea where that came from. Suddenly, as I continued to write, she shared her secret with me. She had been assaulted in the past—not raped, but physically overwhelmed and terrified. It explained so much—her previous choice of a military career, her use of witty sarcasm as a weapon, and especially her determination to hide it from me.

An even more amazing revelation occurred when I switched to the hero’s point of view in the next scene. I had been worrying about the source of conflict between these two. They were both working toward the same objective. As soon as they revealed this to each other, what was left to keep them apart? Finally, the hero told me. In his former job as a detective, he’d been involved a clandestine relationship with his female partner. At a critical moment during the pursuit of a drug dealer, he’d failed to shoot out of worry for the safety of his partner, and an innocent civilian had been killed. The resulting guilt had led to their break-up, and his leaving the force. He swore never to let emotion affect his work again. He hasn’t told the heroine yet, but at least I know!

I’ve never had characters keep secrets from me like this before. I’ve also never had them bare their souls so suddenly. And all because of one little kiss.

Alison

www.alisonhenderson.com

Bird-chirping Weather by Christine DePetrillo

I recently read a meme that said, “Bird-chirping weather is my favorite weather.” I agree, and May has wonderful bird-chirping weather. I’ve been enjoying writing in The Outdoor Writing Office ever since I opened it back in April, but the bird chirping has only just reached full capacity this month.

I have two feeders in my backyard habitat, which has been specifically designed to attract birds (and butterflies). I frequently have visits from crows, blue jays, cardinals, robins, doves, finches, black-capped chickadees, warblers, sparrows, nuthatches, grackles, wrens, acorn woodpeckers, and my favorite guest, the northern flicker. I live for the moments when a sampling of all these birds are in the yard at the same time, singing their songs and enjoying the buffet I have put out for them.

We have a small, husband-made stream and pond in our yard too. 

Robins love to swim in it. They dunk themselves under the water, flap their wings, sending a spray all over their bodies, then fly up to our peach tree to preen. They don’t seem to mind that my German Shepherd is in the yard as well, watching their every move. He doesn’t seem to mind them either. They have an “understanding.”

The squirrels are not so lucky.

I like to think that birds are out there in the neighborhood telling other birds to stop by the DePetrillos for a bite to eat and a bath. As if I’m running a bird resort of sorts. I welcome them all and invite them to sing their songs for me. I usually listen to music when I write, but not when I’m outside.

When I’m outside, the birds provide the tunes and it’s perfect writing music. No words. All natural. Totally inspirational.

Learn to GARDEN FOR WILDLIFE HERE if you want to attract birds and other creatures to your yard.

Learn more about BIRDS HERE.

What’s your favorite bird? How would you describe the weather in May where you live?

Toodles,

Chris

www.christinedepetrillo.weebly.com

The Maple Leaf Series, all six books, now available. Book One, More Than Pancakes, is always FREE in ebook! Get started today!

Professor Russo Was Right by Vonnie Davis

Most of you know I didn't start college until I was forty-four. I was in a deep depression over my divorce and dealing with an empty nest with my daughter married and living in another state and my two sons in college. Then my older son talked me into going to college. "Please, Mom, you've got to do something with yourself. Take a creative writing course or something!" Well, I've never been one to do things halfway, so I enrolled as a fulltime student, which meant I worked fulltime at night, attended classes during the day and slept whenever I could. It was marvelous!

I qualified for Honor's English and Professor Russo impressed upon us to "know our audience." She claimed we wouldn't know how to write if we didn't have a solid grasp of WHOM we were writing for. One writes differently for a data-hungry, scientific community, for example, than one would for fantasy enthusiasts where the author must do extensive world building.

As romance writers, we get that. Let's take description, for example. Any time we write outside the average reader's frame of reference in, say, historical or paranormal sub-genres, description becomes more important. Because we are removing our readers from their known world to another.

But there are other factors to consider in identifying our readers. An important one is AGE.

I recently saw on a show similar to "Sixty Minutes," if it wasn't that show itself, that the Millennials now command a larger market share Baby Boomers. Stores and businesses are now targeting the greenbacks these thirty to forty somethings hold in their young wrinkle-free hands. Well, that makes sense, doesn't it? Business is business.

Now, let me lead you farther on that same thought trail--

I've been concerned about my book sales. While better than they've ever been, they still aren't what I'd call fantastic. I did make the Amazon's Best Seller list for three whole hours, but that accomplishment like a butterfly quickly flitted away. So I emailed my editor at Random House and laid out my concerns. Were there any weaknesses in my writing she was seeing? How could I improve so I could up my sales rankings?  

She assured me it wasn't me. "It's the crazy market," she said. "We've been on this pleasing the Millennials trajectory for the past couple years. Our stories need to be more character driven and less plot driven." Then she told me something I thought I'd never hear an editor say. "Vonnie, you need to dumb down your writing."

WHAT?

"Why do you think I had you rewrite the final half of your last book? While there was technically nothing wrong with it, the plot was too heavy. The readers wouldn't have gotten it."

Okay, so maybe describing how a SEAL planted explosives so the building would implode instead of explode was a little too intricate...or how snipers scrambled onto roofs...or wound care was given to a SEAL while on a flying helicopter could be construed as heavy stuff. But had the reader seen it in a move, they'd have gotten it. I hadn't written rocket science. I'd written suspense.

My editor didn't stop there with her wounding. "You also take the reader into deep point of view which is fine for the older reader, the baby boomer generation. The millennials don't like it. They want you to tell them how to feel. It's okay for you to write I felt angry or I felt hurt."

I nearly toppled out of my chair!

My editor's remarks took me back to Professor Russo's class at Penn State. Know your audience. Silly me, I thought romance readers were alike everywhere. Granted we all have our preferences. Regency over paranormal, perhaps. Or sweet romances over erotic. I get that. It's a matter of personal taste. But to have writing rules change by an age group is ... Just. Too. Much.

I've worked extremely hard to learn point of view, to become familiar with all the powerful nuances of it to gloss over it now. My editor gave me the link to a book to read and study--the second book of The Cocky Bastards series. Since it's the book all the pubs in NYC are raving about--dear Lord, what are they drinking up there???--she was sure my reading this book that was holding Amazon's top rankings would help me. She wanted me to understand what constituted a character driven story. Heck, I thought I already knew. *shakes head in shame*

The plot was mainly how could this billionaire, who yells at his employees so badly, he's had 74 secretaries in 4 years, wants to get into the heroine's pants. He never struck me as the "hero" type. It was character driven, I'll give it that. Their initial banter was fun; their comedic timing, perfect. But halfway through the book, the ballsy, comical heroine I liked turned into an insecure, whiny woman. The hero allowed his ex-fiancé to run his life because of a secret child. He practically became the "ex's" slave. So, the character arc for both the heroine and hero was skewed in a different direction--instead of growing into better people, they'd morphed into two weakened unlikable souls. The book had two authors and it was quite evident where one stopped and the other writer took over. 

My editor is calling me this afternoon to discuss my next series. I have no clue what to write about. I've got nothing to propose. She claims she has some ideas for me. I'm asking her point blank who she's expecting me to write for--the ones who understand romance or the ones I have to tell how to feel. Because I'm not dummying down anything. Reading is supposed to help you learn. That's why we do meticulous research. With the thin plots I'm seeing, no one researches. There's simply no need.

Forgive my long rant, ladies. I'm provoked and shocked and, yes dammit, disheartened. I don't dummy down. It. Just. Ain't. Happening.

How to Creatively Stalk, Maim and Murder by Jannine Gallant

With a title like that, I'm sure I'm now on some government watch list...LOL But seriously, people, when you write romantic suspense, the well of creative options to do away with the protagonists begins to run a little dry after a while. Especially when you write series. You can't have stalker #2 use the same old methods as stalker #1. And by the time I get to stalker #3, my brain feels like cold oatmeal...and my ideas are just about as appetizing.

My latest release, EVERY VOW SHE BREAKS, is the third in the series. In the first book, my stalker was fairly traditional in a creepy watching from the shadows sort of way with a couple of attempts to grab the heroine and a kidnapping to round things out. In the second book, my villain was an assassin with a personal vendetta against the heroine. Point and shoot was his motto. But his twisted mind added a whole new level of creepiness... Then came the third book. What to do, what to do? The villain believed the heroine broke a promise to marry him, so he became my wedding stalker. He leaves her weird wedding paraphernalia. Party favors. Wedding decorations. Cake toppers. Honeymoon lingerie. Until frustration takes his game to a whole new level of scary... But I'll let you read the book to see what he does next.

The point is, new and creative ideas are hard. I'm currently writing the fourth and final book in my BORN TO BE WILDE series. In the pursuit of endless torture through three books, I've used the obvious (gun shots, poisoning, and cut break lines) and the dramatic (drowning, a fall from a cliff, and a downed private jet) and the increasingly creative (buried live power line and iced over steps). With book four, I've been feeling a little desperate because the goal so far has been to injure, not kill. I came up with a chisel hidden in the hay where my hero actor was literally rolling during a love scene. Then there was the shard of glass under his horse's saddle, and next... I wanted something disfiguring. The creative well of ideas had run dry. I asked my CP. Sorry, Margo, but you weren't any help. I gave up on my sketchy outline and wrote "Attempted disfigurement." Then I wrote right up until the scene needed to take place and added some stalling filler, then had my hero go take a shower... Light bulb! The villain put drain cleaner in his shampoo bottle. Good thing my hero dropped it and spilled it on his foot before he poured it over his head. Whew! What a relief! Mind you, I still have one more mayhem scene (attempted murder this time) to come up with for this book. I want something intended for the heroine that happens to the hero instead. On a movie set would be a bonus. Go ahead...make my day. Give me an idea. LOL It has to be creative, though.

So, what's the most interesting way your bad guy has tortured your hero or heroine? Maybe I'll steal your ideas. Kidding! Sort of...

To find out what the wedding stalker's final move is in EVERY VOW SHE BREAKS, buy your copy at Amazon, Barnes & Noble or Apple. Visit me at my Website.

Round and Round the Maypole-the Perpetual Problem of Keeping Secrets by Rolynn Anderson

Happy May Day, my friends.  Today, the basket I have for you isn't full of treats, it's full of secrets.

Recently my visit on a friend’s blog invited me to explain five secrets about me that few people know.  Our novels’ heroes and heroines wouldn’t find the assignment an easy one, because it’s their secrets (often unbeknownst to them) that tend to get them into trouble.  My hero in my new novel, CEZANNE’S GHOST was accidentally responsible for a man losing his eyesight.  Ever since the incident, he’s isolated himself from conflict, in specific, and people, in general.

We all have secrets, some of them not even clear to us because they are buried deeply and come in flashes of confusing images.  Never one to let such sleeping dogs lie (in the same way we authors force our characters to ‘man up’) I plotted with my sister to answer a series of questions about our upbringing. 

The questions are bold and probing, so if you’re in the habit of putting your characters through more angst than you are willing to take, this legacy survey might not interest you.  Seriously, this is heavy stuff.  Here’s a sample of the easy questions-it’s a long, involved study! (I’ve tried to find the origin of this survey, but can’t.  Sorry):

1. The best qualities of my mother were:

2. The best qualities of my father were:

3. The worst qualities of my mother were:

4. The worst qualities of my father were:

5. What I loved most about my mother:

6. What I loved most about my father:    

7. My mother showed her love for me by:

8. My father showed his love for me by:

9. When I was afraid, my mother/father would:

10. When my family celebrated an event (Christmas, an achievement, etc.), we would:

11. I often felt most secure when my mother/father would:

12. My favorite memories of me and my family were:

My hypothesis going into the project was my sister’s answers would be 180 degrees different from mine.  She is my older sister by one year, but I turned out to be the rebel while she remained the stolid home-loving sort.  She’s mother of the year; great cook; lover of hearth and home.  Three wonderful kids.

Me?  No kids, by choice.  Edgy teacher, out-of-the-box high school principal.  Now heavy into writing, I have a third full-blown career while my sister relishes her grandmother role.

Back to the questions and answers.  My sister and I shared afterward.  No prior discussion or consultation.  The similarities?  Striking! Her views and the secrets she held over all these years, matched mine.

We’re convinced the experience brought us closer, but I don’t assume that would be true in every family.  Our three brothers have been invited to answer the questions, but none of them have taken on the challenge.

My conclusion: All families have secrets, flaws and foibles.  It feels freeing to look at them, regard them as shared experiences and move past them, trying not to pass on the quirky, unproductive behavior to our children.  No family is perfect, but sharing the strengths as well as the faults of a family helped my sister and I move on and improve.  We wish we’d taken the survey sooner, however, and hope the nieces, nephews and grandkids take our advice to analyze their upbringings so they are better prepared to be parents if they choose that route.

At the very least, the questions might help you get to the crux of the issues your hero/heroine have about their mothers and fathers as well as the problems they have with choosing mates and parenting.

If you’re interested in getting a copy of the whole survey (author unknown) e-mail me at rolynnwriter@earthlink.net.

Meanwhile, I’m hoping FEAR LAND is on a course to get judged by InD’Tale.  You can help bring my story to their attention by voting for my book….May 1, today, is the Last Day to Vote!  Subscribe and log in to http://www.indtale.com/2016-rone-awards-week-two  Scroll to the Suspense category and vote for FEAR LAND! 

THANKS!  Rolynn