By Susan Donovan
It was 6 p.m., Monday, May 14. I was up to my elbows in raw meatloaf mixture. My son was hitting my daughter over the head with his language arts folder. The dog was clawing a hole through the screen door to get to a squirrel. And the phone rang. Upon hearing my son repeat the phrase “Who is this?” with escalating rudeness, I quickly washed my hands—aware that I was likely covered in e-coli—and grabbed for the phone with slippery fingers.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Susan. This is Monique Patterson from St. Martin’s Press. We met at Harper’s Ferry.”
Ka-Thunk! My heart made the sound my old Maytag makes at the end of a spin cycle. I immediately tried to recall which critique partners I’d told about Monique Patterson, and which of them would perpetrate this kind of sick joke.
In the next instant, I realized I recognized her voice. It really was Monique Patterson. I really had met her at the WRW Conference at Harper’s Ferry two weeks before, and I really did send her a partial manuscript soon after. Then it dawned on me that I might be getting “the call.” I responded quite profoundly.
“Yikes,” I said.
Those of you who’ve been through this know how hard it is to hear anything when your blood is roaring through the tiny capillaries in your brain like water over Niagara Falls. As she spoke, I heard snippets of things like, “loved it” and “funny” and then I heard this sentence: “When can I see the rest?”
Well, she had me there, seeing that there was not a whole lot more to see at that time. I chuckled casually, then said, “Yikes.”
Don’t worry. This story has a happy ending. And we all know happy endings are that much sweeter when the protagonist faces impossible odds along the way.
So here is a summary of what happened after the call—in essence, what I did on my summer vacation. (Warning: those with heart conditions may want to skip to the end.)
May 14, 7 p.m.: I telephoned literary agent Pam Hopkins and left this message on her answering machine—"Help me.” (I met her at Harper’s Ferry too, and sent her three partials, including the one Monique got.)
May 15, 10 a.m.: Pam returns my call, tells me she’s not had a chance to read my stuff but she’ll get back to me. (Yeah, right.)
May 16, 9:30 a.m.: She gets back to me! Pam takes me on as a client, immediately assuming the role of attorney, cheerleader, intermediary, and mental health professional. After a nice long chat, we agree that I can have a completed manuscript for Monique by July 30.
May 17, 2 a.m.: I awake in a cold sweat, completely panicked. What the hell had I agreed to? I had about half the book in rough draft form (and I do mean ROUGH) and the rest briefly outlined. That meant producing an additional 300 pages of quality fiction in 79 days, or 3.8 pages a day, while the kids were on summer vacation!
May 18: I buy a laptop. Cost: $1,200.
May 18 through June 11: I take said laptop everywhere—ballet rehearsals, little league games, the swimming pool (but not actually in the water), doctor’s offices (my son broke his arm), the dog groomer’s, and on any car trip that lasts more than a half hour in which I’m not driving.
June 11: Pam tells me St. Martin’s wants to have exclusive rights to my manuscript while they decide if they’re going to buy it. I open my big mouth and say that I’ve got another 100 pages I could send if it would help. She tells me to express mail it to her and she’ll send it on. Little problem: our family is leaving the next day for New York City and I haven’t packed yet. I stay up nearly all night making revisions and copyediting, a process that continues into the next day.
June 12, 11 p.m.: I’m editing the hard copy in the car by overhead light during a thunderstorm on I-95. My husband thinks I’m insane and may very well be hyperventilating.
June 13: I’m in NYC. I insert changes on my laptop that morning, meet a friend for lunch, take my laptop to the Kinko’s on 54th Street to print out the clean version, use the hotel business service to mail the package to Pam. Cost: $104 and three years off my life expectancy.
June 20: I am writing a love scene at a shady picnic table at the community pool, when a child wanders over and reads over my shoulder. “Why is the man biting her?” he asks. Then he tells his mother, and within days everyone in my small town believes I’m writing smut at the pool. And really, “smut” is such a subjective term!
June 30: I have a rough draft of the whole manuscript. It needs a lot of work and I still have two children’s birthday parties to plan.
July 13-16: I’m in Boston for a conference and stay with one of my oldest and dearest friends. I ask her to read the manuscript and she tells me she loves it! I’m ecstatic—until I recall that this is the same woman who loved the headpiece I wore on my wedding day.
July 16-24: I work harder than I ever have in my life. My kids are bored and angry. My husband tries not to complain about the lack of clean clothing, clean dishes—clean anything.
July 24, 6 p.m.: Pam tells me that St. Martin’s has decided to buy my book and they also want whatever I write next. I scream. We go over the details of their offer and I take copious notes with a broken purple crayon on the back of a pizza coupon, which I later cannot decipher. I inform Pam that the manuscript is almost ready. During the call, my daughter demands that we have macaroni and cheese for dinner and my husband lurks in the doorway, waiting to hear the phrase “million-dollar advance.” He gets miffed when I suggest that he just go make the @#%&*! macaroni and cheese and give me a moment’s peace. Later, my family celebrates with champagne, and after the kids are in bed, my husband and I have a bitter argument about family finances. Mmmm . . . this is not exactly how I pictured my big day!
July 25-27: I send Pam the whole manuscript. She sends it to Monique. Monique likes it. We agree on the terms of the contract. It’s official! One itty-bitty snafu: there is already a romance writer using my actual name, Susan Delaney. I have to come up with another name so that it can be part of my legal contract. I start trying to name myself.
July 27-August 2: It’s very hard to name yourself. It’s frightening to see some of the monikers suggested by my mother, husband, relatives, dear friends, and editor. I’m sure the other Susan Delaney is a lovely person, but I’m starting to have violent thoughts about her. I throw a temper tantrum the night of August 1. On August 2, we agree on Susan Donovan. At that point, I would have settled for “Hey You.”
August 13: I receive Monique’s editorial review of the manuscript, in which she tells me she doesn’t like the title. I slam down four Advil with a Heineken chaser. I begin revisions. I try to come up with another title. My deadline is October 1.
August 27, 7:30 a.m.: It’s the first day of school. As I sip my coffee and watch my children walk out to the bus, I realize—with a start—that the summer is over. But do I say to myself, “My goodness! Where did the time go?” Get real. I’ll forever remember each week, each day, and every single smutty page of it.
~~~~~
Susan Donovan lives in Western Maryland and writes contemporary romantic comedy. Though she feared her first book would appear on the shelves as “Whatever” by “Hey You,” Susan is pleased to announce that Knock Me Off My Feet will published by St. Martin’s in December 2002. Her second book, Just Perfect, will be available sometime in 2003.
by Michelle Monkou
You want to become a romance writer. The determination announced itself sometime between birth and after reading a romance novel. You begin writing, feeling like a professional after typing CHAPTER ONE on the first page. Visions of adoring fans lined up at mega-sized bookstores dance around in your imagination. Maybe, you are sitting on stage in an auditorium filled with earnest writers waiting for the crumbs of knowledge to drop from your lips. Then there is the all-time favorite fantasy where you are at your writing retreat, whether atop the craggy cliffs of a European seaside or surrounded by the sounds of the tropical birds on your Caribbean island. Writing cannot exist on fantasy alone.
The craft cannot survive on sheer determination. There has to be respect for the power of storytelling that translates into discipline, which then becomes your second skin. Where to go? How to get there? Questions posed many times to experienced authors with no one answer alike. Yet, the key to success eludes you. Writing turns into a declaration of war between yourself and yourself. Priorities tangle for the top rung. Obligations pound on your conscience. Commitments threaten to suck you under until the essence of your life moves onto another plane of existence. On a thin thread of tenacity, you still say that you want to become a writer. Your once bold declaration now slightly weakened and battered spikes and dives, riding your emotional rollercoaster.
First things first, clean out the excess baggage. Purge yourself of other writers’ fantasies, successes, goals, and work habits. You are in a constant state of learning, therefore, you are a sponge soaking up the good, the bad, and yes, even the ugly. The concoction churns into a goopy mess with no clear lesson to be learned. Close your eyes. Calm your thoughts (soothing music may achieve this state). Picture an ocean with the waves rolling towards the shore and then receding back into the ocean. Watch and feel that rhythm. One by one, release each fear or doubt hampering your ability to write. Let that wave take it out and away from you. Once you have purged, recommit to your goal. Write it down on paper. Treat this recommitment like nourishment for the soul. Every day, you eat. Then every day, you recommit. Whether in the morning hours or an hour before sleeping at night, purge the fears and recommit to the goal.
Second phase begins with an honest assessment of your commitment level. How much time do you have to write? When can you write? Where can you write? Only you can answer these questions. Only you can determine the ranking of your commitment. Only you can reap the rewards or, on the other hand, the consequences of your selection. However, just because you ranked your priorities, this does not constitute a seal for all eternity. Periodically, shuffle your “to do” list to accommodate your life. Guilty feelings will creep in, but keep a handle on the difference between what would be nice to do and what has to be done.
Finally, the last step in your raised consciousness is also the biggest test and may seem to be a contradiction to Step One. Go ahead and listen to the motivational tapes, attend workshops, and glean from your favorite authors. Remember you are in a perpetual state of learning. BUT, instead of listening and placing yourself in the speaker’s shoes, sift through her advice for the underlying message. In the best of times, you would not wear someone’s shoes because the heel may be worn down to fit the way she walks; the size may be constricting and narrow or loose; or the color and style leaves you cold. Don’t act like a co-dependent and get wrapped around the messenger, forsaking the message. Instead focus on how she developed her rhythm, how she nurtured her rhythm and how she reconnects to her rhythm, as necessary. Then find your rhythm, a state of mind and discipline uniquely your own. No gold key to success exists for becoming a writer. It is all within you, waiting.
~~~~~
Michelle Monkou is past president of Washington Romance Writers.
by Patricia McLinn
1) No agent is always better than the wrong agent. This person will represent you to the publishing world and handle your money—do your homework and listen to your gut.
2) When it comes to writing methods, whatever way works for you is the right way—no matter how vehemently others might tell you that their way is THE answer. However, it’s only good sense to keep yourself open to the possibility of incorporating improvements to your method. And speaking of other ideas . . .
3) Workshops, articles and seminars offer a smorgasbord, not a sit-down dinner. You are under no obligation to take what’s put in front of you. Pick and choose what appeals to you. On the other hand, no rule prevents you from passing on something now, but going back to try it later. And if something works great, you can treat yourself to seconds or thirds.
4) Persistence is one thing you can’t do without—you don’t lose unless you give up.
5) Write a book that pleases you. That way you’re sure to please at least one person. Writing a book with the hope of pleasing a hypothetical editor is almost a sure way to fail.
6) On the other hand, it makes sense to pursue ideas that please you but also have potential to be marketed, first to editors and then to readers—look for where your passion overlaps with the market.
7) All the polish in the world can’t save a bad story or weak characters; a good story and strong characters deserve the best polishing possible. (Some readers don’t care about polish if they feel “swept away” by the story’s heart—you won’t lose those readers by having a technically well-written book, but you will lose readers who demand that a book have both heart and mind.)
8) When you solve a problem in a book, that exact problem is almost guaranteed to never arise again. Do not despair. You might never use that solution again, but you have gained confidence that you will (eventually) find a solution when other problems hit.
9) The business of publishing is separate and different from the writing. You have very little control over the business and it is specifically designed to, in the most efficient way possible, send writers to the mental ward or the poorhouse, and often both.
10) Because of No. 9, a writer who does not enjoy, crave or require the process of writing would be much better off finding another business—there are a lot of easier and more lucrative ways to drive yourself crazy. But if it’s the process that drives you, then there’s only one way to satisfy that craving: WRITE
~~~~~
Patricia McLinn always wanted to write novels, although she took a detour of practicality into journalism before publishing her first book in 1990. Cited by reviewers for strong emotion and characterization, her books have topped best-seller lists and garnered awards, including the 2001 Rising Star. Her next release is a December Silhouette Special Edition, My Heart Remembers.
by Elizabeth Fedorko
In the Movie Tootsie, Terri Garr plays a struggling actress who stalks out of a soap opera audition, takes off a pair of red-rimmed glasses, and tells Dustin Hoffman’s character that she keeps buying stuff, yet she gets nowhere in her acting career. In my opinion, she has the wrong stuff.
Do you have stuff? More than King Tut’s tomb or the shoe closet of Imelda Marcos? Does the guilt-monkey ride your back when you are not writing, but buying stuff? Tell that chimp to take one long monkey hike. I believe that stuff, and the act of getting stuff is good for a writer, this one anyway.
Think about it while I tell you about my stuff. Is there a certain type of pen and paper that allows you to express your story ideas better that others? I like the Bic Velocity ball point click and thrift shop sewn spine notebooks with floppy covers. I write like crazy in them and take them everywhere. I feel, well, “writerly” when I use them. You may have an Alphasmart and write at supersonic speed. One day I’ll join the twenty-first century. But not today.
When I sit down at my desk in my holey, buttonless, blue cotton cardigan I almost feel like Grace Metalious or Ayn Rand. When I was twelve, I saw a photo of Metalious on the back of her blockbuster Peyton Place. She wore jeans and stared at her typewriter as if it held every mystery that perplexes mankind. At that time I decided being a writer was very cool, and I wanted to live like That Girl in my own Manhattan apartment and have a neat-o boyfriend like Donald Holinger or Bobby Sherman. I grew up to have a neat-o husband who looks a little like Paul Reiser and I live in a house in the DC burbs—I’m a lucky girl, even if I’m not that girl.
As for other writer’s stuff, if it were not for the immediacy and the spell check feature of computers, I might compose on the same Olivetti I had in grade school. There’s something lulling and creative-enhancing about the tappity tap of a manual typewriter rather than the “toc toc” of my IBM laptop keys. But I wouldn’t trade my laptop for anything. It’s probably the first computer to have crawled from technology’s primordial ooze, but it fits me like a well-worn shoe.
I asked WRW’s charming VP about her stuff, and she confessed that a mini Slinky sits on her desk most of the time. When her brain needs a rest her fingers do the walking with the coiled metal. We also discussed the need to, from time to time, get up from the desk and walk around and let the circulation flow back to our butts. Sometimes we walk right to our cars and head for the local bookstore, or even better, a rare books sale. In the DC area book sales abound, especially in the fall. I have stood in line with the “book nerds” an hour or so before the huge Goodwill sale begins, which, I guess, makes me a book nerd too. When the doors open—Watch Out! I have lots of out-of-print books bought at bargain prices from those sales. You are welcome to join me in the stampede—seriously. It’s great fun, and I feel no guilt that I’m not home working because I know I’m finding great resource material. Good stuff! No guilt!
Is there any time you should be guilty about not writing? That is purely up to you. If you set up personal writing goals, try to keep them. Sometimes life (recent tragic events not withstanding) can get stuck between you and the storytelling. You are, after all, human. If you think of writing as a sanctuary, you will always want to go there.
But back to the stuff. I bet all of you have good stuff in your writing spaces. I may not want your stuff, nor would you want mine, believe me, you don’t! Yet, it’s all about nesting isn’t it? Don’t we feel secure in our own space, surrounded by familiar, comfortable, and even helpful things? If you need stuff, go get some and come back to your story, a few dollars poorer, but with a refreshed mind. I know if I’m browsing the Romance section of any bookstore, I get all antsy to get back home and pound out the pages.
If the term “stuff” is too pedestrian for you, consider that you have “accoutrements”. They may say a lot about you or your characters. If you came to my house and saw three different colors of ketchup: red, green, and purple (yes, purple), you would say I have a fairly spoiled, but greatly loved, child. You would be right, but wouldn’t it be more interesting to think I was an artist who uses condiments for pigments? Your stuff can work for you and your writing. Use them as creative jumping off points.
Now, please excuse me while I go have some of the stuff that fuels my writing: a Diet Coke Big Gulp and a turkey hot dog with onions, mustard, and purple ketchup.
~~~~~
Elizabeth “Beth” Fedorko is a full time wife, mother and writer. She dreams of being the first romance writer on “Survivor.”
by Elizabeth Fedorko
Ha ha! I knew the title would get you reading. Well, where do you do it? Write. Where do you write? Now, don’t collapse on me. This is not going to be one of those articles on Feng Shuing your workspace. I think it has merits. My neighbor does Feng Shui, but when she stepped into my office she cursed like a Pittsburgh steel worker, shook her head and left. I guess my workspace was a little too “Western Hemisphere” for her. But it’s mine and I write there. I write there a lot because I like being there.
Do you have the same sanctuary? Mine is in the basement of our fifties contemporary, in the far corner, a little room all to myself. I have lots of bookshelves with research books, romances, other works of fiction, my vintage postcard collection, and toys. Don’t knock toys. I use a small collection of action figures as characters in my book when I need to know where they’re sitting at a table, poised for battle, or walking through the forest. John Smith (Disney) usually plays my hero, Sleeping Beauty (again Disney) is my heroine, and a chicken from Chicken Run or a purple Pokemon is my villain. My seven-year-old son takes these toys from time to time. He knows I have too much fun back here!
In my office I have a TV and VCR (currently vying for my own DVD), because I might want to put a travelogue tape on mute to get inspired for my setting. Ah, the rolling emerald hills and whispering pines . . . I also have a CD boombox, because as we all know music is great for motivation, mood, and dancing or singing badly when you get stuck in a scene. My current faves are the Proclaimer’s recent offering, the soundtrack from Plunkett and MacLeane, anything by Barenaked Ladies, and “The Best of Tom Jones” for those special moments, hmmm . . . sigh . . .
My walls are decorated with a patchwork of movie posters (Braveheart, Rob Roy, Trainspotting, and one large English subway poster of Joseph Fiennes from Elizabeth with the caption “lover” above his fetching countenance). I also have a huge Ordnance Survey map of Scotland behind my chair. My husband, bless him, doesn’t feel threatened (by Joseph, not the map of Scotland). He knows that I need these things to create, and one day after I’ve sold a million books (I’d really like to start with one book at this point), he hopes to retire early, do some salt water fishing, and eat White Castle burgers until he bursts.
Well, that’s the ten-cent tour. I asked my Board at our first meeting where they did it, and I received some interesting answers. One of them said she uses the couch in her living room. I’m still talking about writing here. She likes to know what’s going on in her house, and is not bothered by distractions, so she sits with her laptop and writes away on her big comfy couch. Another has a fairly new residence, and she claimed the front room with glass French doors on the first floor. The fact that she has yet to cover those doors with a fashionable fabric has not deterred her from plowing out the books, although she has become expert at ignoring the kids tapping on the glass. Another board member shares a corner of her basement with her husband. She has her book covers framed as proud inspiration on the wall over her computer. She writes between dryer cycles and late at night when she needs quiet for those special parts of her books requiring concentration, although I wonder if hubby is close at hand on the other side of the basement.
These examples are all fine and dandy, but they’re just that: examples. You need to be comfortable where you work. One of my favorite shows is The Learning Channel’s “Trading Spaces”. Two couples with an interior designer trade houses and redecorate a room in their neighbor’s house. If I walked into my house to find an orange living room (which must be a big deal with designers these days) I would cuss like a Pittsburgh steelworker. Most of the couples are polite and in their shocked state utter nothing more creative than an “oh, my Gawd!”. I want my workspace the way I like it, and that means it doesn’t have to be tasteful to be inspirational.
Your workspace is just that, your’s. Make it your Fortress of Solitude, your Cone of Silence, or your Studio 54. Whatever it takes to get you working. I would certainly hate to think that you’re depriving the reading world of that fantastic romance because you haven’t consulted the Feng Shui master.
~~~~~
Elizabeth “Beth” Fedorko is a full time wife, mother and writer. She dreams of being the first romance writer on “Survivor.”
by Maggie Toussaint
In 1995 my book-doctored historical romance was being actively marketed by my agent, the sequel was completed, and the final book of the trilogy was in the outline stage. I joined RWA and WRW to network the business side of things. I made contacts with other authors, smugly smiling to myself because my writing career was taking off. Life was good.
When I was soundly rejected in every market, my agent announced a new side business of printing books and offered to print my book if I was interested. Having been through the self-publication process with a family history several years earlier, I declined.
My analytical brain took charge. I have two college degrees and the necessary connections through my romance author’s association, so why did I need an agent? From this brilliant insight came the Year of the Editor. Valiantly I marketed my second historical. Whenever a rejection came in, I mailed out a letter to the next publishing house on the list. One year later, I had three unpublished historical manuscripts.
At the next yearly WRW meeting I chanced to hear a passing remark and almost forgot to breathe. The time period I had selected for my historical stories (1900-1920) did not count in the true historical market. I met with polite editors at the conference who hesitantly agreed to look at my work. But, the setting problem worried me.
The next year was the Year of the Rewrite. I moved all three stories to an earlier time(1860 to 1880). This was no small feat due to all the period research involved. My romance author friends supported me through e-mail, and my family assumed I was receiving nourishment from the computer because of my umbilical-like attachment to the thing.
As I was launching my writing career, my daughters were graduating high school, my house and yard work stacked up, my husband’s understanding wore thin, and of course, there was my day job as a scientist. My rational side began to war with my artistic side. I didn’t even know I had this split personality kind of thing until I began attending writer’s meetings. Was I an author? It didn’t feel like it.
Out of the blue I discovered another way to get professional feedback. The next year was the Year of the Contest. I judged contests. I entered contests. Rejection reached a whole new level of pain. My motivations weren’t strong enough. My characters were too melodramatic. But where was this place I was writing about? My peers all wanted to go there.
A future writing travel brochures was not what I had in mind. I needed help like a junkie needed a fix. Wasn’t I an author? Where would an author get help?
Along came the Year of the Critique Group. Actually the Critique Group only lasted six months but I got two strong leads out of the group. First off, our goal was to target a line and write a story that met all of that line’s requirements. It sounded so easy, so rational. Why hadn’t I thought of this before? Secondly, three other romance authors were quite certain that my writing voice was contemporary. I argued that I loved reading historicals. They countered that reading and writing were two very different things. Understanding dawned. I could change. I was an author.
After trying for two months to rewrite one of my historicals as a contemporary, I went on to craft a new category romance. The feedback for the outline and opening chapters of the book from my critique partners was positive. I slogged on through the chill of winter creating my marketing masterpiece.
Rejected again. And with a story that was unique to only one market. How could I have been so shortsighted? Would a real author have made such a mistake?
My brain chugged to a start. The problem must be that I didn’t know enough about what I was doing. Lucky for me, the national meeting of RWA was in DC that year. The Year of Education brought smiles to my credit card company. I bought every book known to man about writing, several on police work, the Merck Manual, reference books on personalities, herbs, and Maryland. I had no idea where I was going, but I wasn’t going to be stupid again.
My next contemporary manuscript was set in my oldest daughter’s college town. I did on-site research at Parent’s Weekend and through the Internet. I knew the names of all the roads, restaurants, hospitals, and hotels. This story was peddled to agents, editors, and went through a contest or two. Rejections abounded but something interesting happened with my contest scores. Instead of getting mediocre marks, I was now getting very high and very low marks. My writing friends said I was an author and not to let the low marks bother me.
Working with a therapeutic riding center gave me my next book idea. This story meant a lot to me and I felt quite strongly about the subject. This spawned the Year of the Query Letter. I set about writing the most interesting, most provocative, most compelling query letter of all time to market my completed horse story. Ten out of eleven publishing houses weren’t interested. But one house, and I reminded myself that it only takes one, said it was a very promising romance and if I’d be willing to change this, this, and this, they would like to see it again.
I was stunned. Voices whispered in my head: I am an author. I might even be published if I get this right.
I reread the personalized response twenty times and wondered if it was appropriate to frame the letter. It wasn’t an offer, but it was validation. And I would apply myself wholeheartedly toward reaching this new goal.
After all, I am an author. Life is good.
~~~~~
Maggie Toussaint writes Historical Romances.
by Elizabeth Fedorko
I was thrilled when I found my writing schedule is the same as Stephen King’s. If you ask some of WRW’s current board and chairpersons, I was not the only one.
In his latest non-fiction tome, ON WRITING, Steve (I feel I can call him that given I have read everything he’s written) says he likes to write ten pages a day (2,000 words). He has good days and hard days. He eats lunch at his desk. And, no matter what, he gets ten pages written a day. One word at a time. Ten pages a day. Whether you like him or not, he tells stories, because he needs to, because he is a writer. La di da. So are you, so am I.
OK, OK, so now you’re saying to yourself, “I work at another job nine-to-five”, “I have three kids who have more sporting events every week than the 2000 Sydney Olympics”, or quite simply, “I don’t always feel inspired.” Or you could be saying, “Beth, you’re out of your mind, and I want to take my vote back.”
Before you impeach me, give a fine film, “Finding Forrester”, a look. It is the story of a young African-American man, Jamal Wallace, with a world of literary promise and a humble, but loving, home. He meets, Forrester, a cantakerous award-winning author of one great book (ala Harper Lee). Forrester “critiques” Jamal’s work harshly. The phrase “constipated thinking” comes to mind—I really wish I could use that with my critique partners, but they write too dang good. Jamal continues to write his head off despite living where handguns instead of Bic pens are more of a reality, and the constant thumping on his bedroom walls can only mean the neighbors are having a good time. I won’t expose the plot of the film, but I use the characters in it as a prime example of the need to write inherent in all of us. Why else would we be here?
If you need more convincing, I beg you to tread lightly into the mad world of the Marquis de Sade (You’re saying to yourself, “Now I really want to take my vote back.") and the extrodinary, yet disturbing film “Quills”. This man, played expertly by Geoffrey Rush, was plagued with the need to write. It kept him from taking a leap into the dark chasm of total insanity, it was his freedom, his panacea. When the proper implements for writing his scandalous 19th century novels were taken from him, he found ingeniuous and warped ways to write his stories. I’m not saying follow that example literally, but the need to write is shown in its extreme.
That great twentieth century philospher and social commentator, George Carlin said, before his seven words that shocked my mother after she heard what record I had brought home in 1976, was that “wanna” gets us into trouble. I demure. “Wanna” is a good thing for those of us who wish to express ourselves with the written word. We should embrace “wanna” and treasure it. “Wanna” gets us sitting at our computer, legal pad, quill and parchment (for those of you who write historicals), and “wanna” makes us who we are, writers.
As Washington Romance Writers enters its eighteenth year, make this your year. This can apply to everyone. We have to start that new novel somewhere. Not all of us start at the beginning. Jennifer Crusie once said at The Smithsonian, “I write all of the good parts and put them together. That’s all I write: the good parts.” Find your good parts (that didn’t come out too well, but you know what I mean), find your inspiration, find your time to embrace your “wanna”. I know that many of our authors from the most professionally successful to those vying for that First Sale pin take their “wanna” by the hand and don’t look over their shoulder, just move forward. Sometimes you write in Neil Armstrong giant leaps or Sagan’s CONTACT “small moves”. “Wanna” will be satisfied. And in the end, you will be too when your recieve your RWA Pro pin, your First Sale pin, your Rita, your Pulitzer. That’s my plan, anyway, and I’m sticking to it.
~~~~~
Elizabeth “Beth” Fedorko, past president of WRW, is a full time wife, mother and writer. She dreams of being the first romance riter on “Survivor.”
by Cathy Maxwell
I don’t usually enter into discussions about respect and romance writing. I firmly believe respect is not something others confer on you; it’s something you take for yourself.
Besides, defining “respect” is a nebulous endeavor since it is so individual. To some writers, respect is having critics write rave reviews. To others, it’s list ranking. Still, others crave Mom or Aunt Alice’s approval. There are writers who feel we’d be better respected without clinch covers and there are writers who see the clinch as a trademark.
Obviously, what respect isn’t is being universally read because Romance already claims that status and still we worry.
But a recent email on a loop touched me deeply and made me mull over this “respect” issue. Sandra Hill posted a fan letter she’d received. Hill is known for her entertaining, energetic Historicals with a handsome, virile man on the cover. When a reader picks up a Sandra Hill book, she knows she is going to have some fun.
The letter went: Dear Sandra: Thanks for the postcard of your upcoming book. I must tell you that I hooked my sister, Lynne, on reading romances and especially on your books. She always judged a book by its cover and loved your covers and postcards. She died on Jan. 12 of this year. At the wake I placed “The Bewitched Viking” in the casket in a position that when people would kneel down and look up . . . . guess who they saw! Many people giggled and if they really knew her did a belly laugh. Thanks for bringing to both of our lives some humor and the help it gave us as she battled her cancer. Hopefully she can read in heaven!! I’m laminating the “Truly, Madly Viking” to place at the cemetery. She would have loved it.
Thanks so much.
Diana Hill achieved what every fiction writer from Oates to Grisham, Shakespeare to Dumas hopes to attain—she captured the imagination of her reader. For the space of time it takes to turn the pages of a book, she held Reality at bay. God bless her. She did her job.
Such an achievement can’t be measured on the pages of the New York Times Book Review. It’s too personal and has nothing to do with literature through the ages and other snobbery. I’m not even certain those untold numbers of Aunt Alices and Moms would have positive comments.
But I do know that when I think back on the writers I respect, they’ve rarely written books that were the critics’ choices. No, their books are the ones that touched my heart, my mind, and my imagination. They made me laugh, sometimes cry, and always involved me. Those writers made a difference in my world-even if it was only giving me a break from life through a few hours of enjoyable entertainment. There have been times when I have needed to escape.
If I were to talk to these writers, I would order them to not give a care what critics, peers, or relatives have to say about their work because I deem it valuable. Their books mean something to me. I will never forget them.
And over time, I think this form of respect, the respect we must earn reader-by-reader, slowly, patiently, and solely for telling the tale well, is the only respect that matters.
~~~~~
Cathy Maxwell’s next book is The Marriage Contract, a February 2001 release from Avon Books. She will also have a short story in the NAL anthology In Praise of Younger Men, January 2001. She is surrently at work on a new book for Avon Books tentatively titled The Spender Stud.
by Elizabeth Holcombe Fedorko
You know who you are. You’re like me. You leave the husband home in front of Game Four Hundred Eighty Seven of the World Series and go off to see a “chick-flick"—*gasp*—alone! You take your seat in the theater away from any happy loving couples and, as the coming attractions roll, out comes your (with respect to Blue’s Clues) “handy dandy notebook.”
I have spent more time writing illegibly in the dark than I can recall. I go to those romantic “chick flicks” more for inspiration than entertainment. Don’t you?
Come on. Admit it.
Like all of you, I saw Notting Hill. And like you, I picked it apart from a romantic perspective. First we had a hero (shy English shopkeeper) and a heroine (glamorous movie star). These two are, by virtue of social circumstance, doomed. We have conflict: the “there’s no way someone like her would be interested in someone like me,” and the “you are interesting and attractive but you could never understand my hectic movie star life.” We have sexual tension. We have an appealing setting. We, I mean they, make love. Then, as expected, the “dark moment” after the lovemaking, the “you betrayed me” scenario, and so on and so on until we have the happy “The End.”
Do you do this? Pick apart romantic movies? Then save that ticket stub. It’s research. It’s tax-deductible.
I find romantic movies particularly useful when I’m at loggerheads over which way to proceed with my story. Take The English Patient. Okay, I heard that collective groan—face it, it’s because you didn’t get to see Ralph Fiennes’s naked backside, rather than the fact that everything is doomed in this romance. I learned something from that flick: sexual tension can get really intense if you place the hero and heroine in a very public social situation. These lovers danced together at a lavish pre-Nazi invasion party, met in a Cairo market, and really got down to matters with about five hundred British soldiers just outside singing “Silent Night.” It gave me the idea to heighten the sexual tension in my story by placing my hero and heroine in a very public arena and seeing what happens. Inspiration. I scribbled a lot of notes in the dark.
Here’s another one, if you’ll indulge me. You’ve Got Mail. After getting over the fact that Tom Hanks has, um, filled out and there’s little likelihood of seeing his backside in this film, I allowed myself to be inspired. Out came the notebook and the next thing I knew, I was filling pages with ideas on how to finish a scene in my story. My hero started out as a jerk toward my heroine. I wanted to make him, well, less jerk-y. In You’ve Got Mail, Tom Hanks is a ruthless businessman with a heart. We see that side of him when he easily escorts two kids about town, and he gets to see Meg Ryan in her “own habitat.” Her natural way of putting those around her at ease really shines out to him. He begins thinking of her as a person and not a competitor, little realizing she’s the one he’s been sending those heartfelt e-mails to every day. Does love survive when cyberspace is no longer a barrier? They kiss and walk off into the moment with his dog, so I guess it must.
So I hope you get my meaning. Let those movies inspire you. Don’t go with the thought they’ll solve your story’s ills. Just take your notebook, in case the Muse taps you on the shoulder. My muse looks like Ewan McGregor. How ‘bout yours?
~~~~~
In her ongoing attempts to keep her life safe from too many hours of televised sports, Beth also keeps her eye on Liam Neeson. She was last seen in full “Braveheart” fighting form at the Retreat.
By Karen L. Smith
Everyone is always giving out tips, generally in lists of ten. Well, here’s a list, in no particular order—ten, naturally—to check if you’re a writer or not.
One: Talk about writing to everyone you know, but never actually sit down and write. Talk about how wonderful it will be when you hit the NY Times Bestseller list, about what you’re going to do with your millions from the advance check, and what you’ll wear on all those morning news programs. But never, ever, pick up a pencil and a pad of paper and write a line of dialog, or a description. By all means, avoid your computer, and don’t even consider a typewriter, even if you can find one.
Two: Never read industry publications to learn about trends in romance publishing. Eschew the RWR, avoid Writer’s Digest, use the Update to start fires or wrap fish. Instead, get your information from your Aunt Myrtle who had an article idea rejected once in 1950 when she submitted her “Can This Marriage Be Saved” story to Ladies Home Journal. Under no circumstances surf the web for cool writer’s sites. Ignorance is bliss and we want to stay happy.
Three: Join WRW, but never attend meetings. I suppose if you really wanted to bollux up your chances for publication you could simply never join WRW, but who would you have to talk to if you didn’t belong? (See #1) And, you’d never get the chance to read this keen list.
Four: If you attend meetings, never, under any circumstances, (and no matter how much your writer pals encourage you to), never use any of the information you get in meetings to enhance your chances to write a compelling book. I mean, who are these people anyway? Just because they’ve actually written a book, sold it, gone through the trials and tribulations of revisions, the challenge of publicizing it—you know, all the work. Why would they have anything useful to share?
Five: Under no circumstances are you ever to volunteer to do any job, regardless how small. Volunteering will force you to interact with the other writers in the group. Volunteering will give you chances to know these people, to form friendships, to network, to pick up ideas and helpful hints. Working on a WRW project might put you in contact with (Say it softly) editors or agents. Heavens, you wouldn’t want that, would you? Absolutely not.
Six: If you have actually written something, do not join a critique group, ever. I’ll admit that critique groups aren’t for everyone, but if you are tempted to think you might enjoy or benefit from associating with other writers, resist this impulse. Critique groups will only provide regular input on your style, your characters, your plot—all those messy things you don’t want to worry about. Although, it will give you a captive audience to talk about the book you haven’t written. (See #1)
Seven: Do not be swayed by others’ enthusiastic anecdotes about the WRW Retreat. Also, do not be tempted by the impressive list of speakers or workshop topics. The WRW Retreat represents the best of the best and would offer you entirely too much usable information, too many key industry insights, too many opportunities to network with the people who are actually in the business. Don’t be cajoled. If you must attend the Retreat, go for the food.
Eight: If you are tempted to get involved with the actual running of the group by being on the board, or on a programs committee, or by helping on fundraising ideas, call your Aunt Myrtle and force her to talk you out of it. This is Advanced Volunteering and is even more dangerous than regular volunteering, because you have a chance to shape the way the chapter runs, you would get to help pick the topics for programs, or select the speakers for the retreat. Next thing you know you’ll be wanting to go to the National Convention (conveniently located in D.C. this summer) and you definitely don’t want to do that.
Nine: Never attend other chapter’s meetings, conferences, or enter their contests. After all, the more people you know, the more feedback you get, the more information you have about this industry, the more prepared you’ll be to actually be a writer. In a word, ew!
Ten: Completely miss the point that this list is so tongue in cheek that my tongue has practically poked through the cheek in question. Take all this advice to heart, never write your book, and never experience the soul-deep satisfaction of completing something zillions of people talk about (See #1) but never do—writing a book.
~~~~~
Karen L. Smith is Past President of Washington Romance Writers. Her first book, Meridith’s Wish, will be relelased by Leisure in October 2000.
