by Laurin Wittig and Pam Poulsen

You’ve heard about romance writing contests—specifically contests sponsored by RWA and RWA chapters for unpublished romance writers. You’ve seen the lists of finalists and winners. You even may have considered entering one yourself—some day. Then again, maybe you’ve heard the stories: the friend who was told to go back to her day job by some unfeeling judge, the critique partner who got a perfect 100 from one judge and a 25 from the second, the chapter member who was given a failing score for basic mechanics—and she’s a high school English teacher. Why would you, a perfectly sane person, subject yourself to this? And if you did decide to join the insanity, how would you choose a contest and what can you reasonably expect to gain from the often confusing experience?

We’re so glad you asked! There are several good, even great, reasons to enter one of these contests, not the least of which is . . . you might win.

So, why should you consider entering one of these babies? First, there’s the feedback from someone who doesn’t have to sit across the critiquing table from you and watch the hurt in your eyes. Second, there’s the possibility that you’ll final in the contest, giving you an opportunity to get your entry in front of an editor or agent who has promised the contest coordinator she’ll read it. Third, you may win the grand prize (usually a medallion, pin, trophy, small amount of cash, etc.).

First, let’s discuss the feedback. Every contest, with the exception of the Golden Heart, gives you some kind of feedback whether it’s a score sheet with comments or a full-blown critique. You’ll get opinions of what you’re doing wrong, suggestions for what you can do better, and hopefully, praise for what you’re doing well.

Great, you’re thinking. All I have to do is enter a contest, find out what I’m doing wrong, fix it, and I’ll sell.

Hang on there, partner. It’s not quite that easy. Judging and critiquing manuscripts is a very subjective task. Just as we don’t necessarily agree on what makes a good book or movie, your judges are unlikely to agree completely, if at all, on what’s good or bad about your work.

Now seems like a good time to hit you with the bad news about contests. You will probably get discouraged. You will get bad scores some of the time, if not often. You’ll get judges with a wide range of expertise, opinions, and abilities to critique. Some people are natural teachers and will be able to clearly identify what’s not working in your manuscript. Others are natural writers who’ve never studied the craft and can’t begin to say why a piece doesn’t work—just that it doesn’t. Above all, don’t expect to get a definitive list of what’s right and wrong with your manuscript. Even most editors aren’t capable of giving you that.

Wait! Don’t throw that contest entry in the trash just yet. Despite the subjective nature of this beast, you can still make it work for you . . . in a big way. Here’s what we suggest (and what we’ve done). Enter two or three contests at a time if you can afford it (more on that later). Most contests offer you two judges, whose opinions could differ greatly. When you enter two or three contests, you’re increasing the number of opinions—and increasing your chance of finding some consensus among the judges’ opinions.

When the score sheets/critiques come in, sort through the comments. Look for consistencies. Do four of the six judges question your hero’s motivation? (Better work on that motivation.) Does only one judge question your heroine’s? (Sounds like this might not be too much of a problem.) Now it’s time to make revisions, right? Not necessarily. If you completely understand the comments and feel perfectly capable of making the changes, then go ahead.

But most of us are still learning, right? If your judges are telling you your hero’s motivation is weak and you don’t know what to do to fix it, then it’s time to study character motivation. That’s right . . . study. Go to the public library, or contact Julie Stewart to borrow books from the WRW Library. If you haven’t studied writing books, you’ll be amazed at what you can learn.

Once you thoroughly understand the subject, go back and read your work. Can you see why the hero’s motivation was lacking? Do you understand now what the judges were talking about? Do you understand what you have to do to fix it? Now it’s time to start making changes—not from one judge’s (or even six judges’) advice, but from your own understanding. Never lose sight of the fact you’re learning a craft. The keyword is learning.

Next Month: What to do if you final or win, how to prepare your manuscript for submission.


~~~~~
Laurin Wittig and Pam Poulsen have, between the two of them, finaled in nine romance writing contests, three of them the Golden Heart.

by Elizabeth Holcombe Fedorko

One especially sultry day this past summer I found myself with my son, husband, and good friends at a Virginia Beach water park. For a span of forever, I studied the “Waterfall Drop,” a terrifying, two red-flag, expert swimmer, ten on the wedgie scale three seconds of fun. I reminded myself, as I do every day lately, that I’m writing a novel set in 16th century Scotland. And a research opportunity has neatly presented itself. So, up the concrete stair I climbed, away from my loved ones and common sense, watching children eagerly positioning themselves on top of the waterfall and plunging into chlorine oblivion. Then it was my turn.

I took a seat on the concrete, water sluicing all around my legs and under my nether regions, preparing myself. Now, I’m my heroine: frightened, being chased by the villain, and the hero says the only way to survive is to ride the waterfall with him. (Some hero.) I wear two stone (that’s 28 pounds to you Yanks) of wool and linen, no underwear, and no Esther Williams bathing suit bought at JC Penney. Releasing the handlebars, pretending they are moss-covered stones, I plunge down, grappling for my hero’s arms, free-falling, then splashing, shooting to the bottom of the pool like a finely-honed arrow. Disoriented, I have to open my eyes to see which end is up by watching bubbles all around me. My hero is also giving me a fine view of his bits and pieces as his kilt sways up his thighs in the bubbles. But I digress. I sputter to the surface captured by my hero’s arms as the villain, wearing a teal Speedo, blows his whistle and arcs a thumb to the side of the pool, telling me my turn is over.

OK, so you don’t have to risk drowning to do research. I have been writing since forever and research comes hand-in-hand with all writing, whether it’s historical, contemporary, or… Well, you know the rest. You write them, after all. When I sat down to write my first book, a tragically horrid science fiction, my research library consisted of a battered thesaurus from junior high school and a coverless collegiate dictionary.

Research comes from need. You’ll be writing along, guarding your precious writing time like a pit bull in heat, and lo and behold, you discover you need to know what Denmark’s one krone coin looks like. Mark you place with a note in your manuscript that you’ll research it later and keep on with your story.

Eventually, you’ll need to know about that coin. There are many ways to go at it. One is to ask any Danish friends you may know. Don’t have any? Give the Danish embassy a call. Now you know the one krone coin has a hole in the middle with crowns and decorations around it. It took you only a moment, and you’ve made a valuable contact with some great Danes that may come in handy if you decide to write that Viking book.

I once bent the ear of a re-enactor at the Claude Moore Historical Farm. I took notes and that made him talk even more. You’ve got to talk to people. Remember these re-enactors don’t wear those clothes in the middle of August because they can’t afford a sauna. They want to talk to you, especially if you’re a writer. Tell them so, with pride.

A lot of you like researching on the internet. You may pull up a site on 18th century British military uniforms with specific questions in mind. Some are answered, but not all. Write to the email address of the author of the site. I found a site written by Revolutionary War British re-enactors who travel all over the country losing, mostly, to Patriot re-enactors. I wrote to the email address provided with an introduction of me and my work. One gentleman kindly replied with a bibliography of sources I would have to travel to the UK to get. Remember to say thank-you—always! Keep that name in mind for future acknowledgements.

Go beyond books and articles, but get them too. Keep a file of pamphlets and articles on any topic you think could be remotely useful. Be somewhat organized. Your library will grow as fast as your children or grandchildren, and the next thing you know that New Yankee Workshop guy and his program on building bookshelves looks better than sex—almost.

So, when you’re thinking about your latest book, think about looking for research opportunities in all the odd places. You’ll have fun—believe me!

Now, where’s that water park receipt for my acccountant?

by Michelle Monkou (then WRW President)

What shocked us about Nancy’s death was the savage way in which she died that abruptly snatched her away. There was no lingering illness for us to prepare ourselves and no one remained to be punished. As a chapter, we have said our goodbyes and will honor her memory and spirit in a variety of ways, including a Nancy Richards-Akers annual award for the published author who has contributed the most in the development of the unpublished authors.

On the national level, Avon publishers paid tribute to Nancy at the national conference. The reception took place at the Hyatt Regency on Thursday, July 29, 1999. Avon extended an open invitation to come and share in the memories and also provide an opportunity to bring closure. The program opened with Avon editors and Nancy’s agent describing Nancy’s sweet, fun-loving spirit. There was no formal agenda and anyone could share their thoughts.

Joan Schalhafer, Vice President and Director of Publicity emceed. Carrie Feron, Executive Editor read Karen Kay’s (who was unable to attend) words. Lyssa Keusch, Senior Editor and Nancy’s editor, shared her thoughts. Helen Breitwiser was Nancy agent and spoke about how their relationship developed into a friendship. Marie Elena Martinez, Avon Publicist was responsible for all the logistical arrangement. Thank you for a wonderful moment.

WRW had strong representation and many of its members shared their memories. Anne Marie Rogers donated the memory book for viewing, which is still under construction documenting Nancy’s life. The book will be given to her parents with the hope that the children will some day be able to see their mother’s accomplishments and her other family in the writing world who loved her unconditionally with strong, permanent, healthy friendships. Anne Marie sends her thanks to those who contributed with donations of pictures, articles, and stories.

Bette McNicholas and Karen Smith shared their thoughts and what WRW will do in Nancy’s name. Eileen Charbonneau sang an Irish lullaby that did not leave a dry eye in the room. After which, I spoke about Nancy. On request, I share my words with you:

I can’t talk about memories shared with Nancy as a personal friend or a fellow published author. However, she was a woman. I am a woman. She was a mother. I am a mother. She loved her craft. I love it too. As sisters of the earth, my heart grieves. But in keeping with one of her missions to help unpublished authors, I will make her proud. I will continue to love my craft with a voracious appetite. Peace be with you , Nancy.

The healing has begun and we move forward, a little more aware.

by Lisa E. Arlt

Writing is a lonely career. There are no guarantees, no instant gratification and, unless you’re one of the very few, no huge royalty checks. Most people don’t realize how hard it is to be a writer, but we know. So why do we keep doing it?

Most of us write because we have to write. But some days, we all need a boost. The following eleven tips help me stay motivated.

1. Acknowledge your love of writing: It isn’t enough for a writer to enjoy writing. I enjoy doing a lot of things—some of which could earn me a fair living—but writing is the only activity that I can’t imagine never doing again. If you’re like this, too, recognize this need and let it motivate you.

2. Forge human connections: Writing is a lonely business. No one understands us, but another writer at least has the vocabulary to try. I feel better, and I write better, when I am connected with other writers. Critique partners, writing pals on an e-mail listserve, the librarian who thinks your characters rival Tolstoy’s-all are integral to a writer’s support system. Find friends who understand your devotion and can pick you up when you’re feeling down, and hang on to those friends. You’ll need them.

3. Celebrate each small success: Perhaps the editor who rejected your manuscript added a handwritten postscript—"I enjoyed your heroine’s foibles in the kitchen.” Revel in that. Other writers get form rejection letters, but your manuscript warranted a hand-written comment. Okay, it was rejected, but she liked your heroine’s foibles! So, celebrate—Everything!

4. Read inspirational materials: There are a million inspiring stories out there, and not just in the “how to write” section. I’ve found inspiration in spiritual stories, biographies, children’s history books and even Disney movies. I get a monthly boost from my writing magazine subscriptions. Keep your inspirational materials readily at hand in a file, a videocassette, or in your bookstore. A few minutes reading can keep you going for days.

5. Keep a feel good folder: Remember how that e-mail from the reader who’d liked your article made you smile for days? What about the perfect score from a contest judge? Or the note from the editor who said you had talent and that you’ll make it as long as you keep writing? Don’t hide these feel good items—wallow in them. Display the ones you can, keep the others handy when your motivation starts to dip. If it makes you smile, put it in there.

6. Take vacations and happy days: I have deadlines and goals, but some days, despite my best intentions, I’m not feeling up to doing much, especially writing. Nothing picks me up more than a writing vacation. Even if it’s only a 24-hour getaway, when I return to my deadlines and schedules, I’m more energized, my thoughts are clearer, and I’m raring to go. Writer Rebecca Vinyard declares Happy Days whenever she needs a dose of motivation. As she wrote, “On Happy Days, I forget about everything except doing things that make me happy. Whether that’s diving into my to-be-read pile, going shopping, playing on the computer, taking a long bubble bath or simply sunning myself outside like a lizard, I do it. I don’t do chores, dinner is whatever we can scrounge, and I wear my comfiest clothes. Once my happy day is over, I feel energized and ready to tackle anything.”

7. Fill-and refill-the well: Julia Cameron, in her life-changing book The Artist’s Way: A Spiritual Path to Higher Creativity, talks about filling the well. Most artists dip inside themselves and take what’s there (energy, inspiration, soul) to feed everything and everyone else. They work too long at the office, skip lunch, then write until midnight. One day, there’s nothing left. They’ve neglected their inner well so long, it’s dried up. Cameron advocates Artist Dates, a few hours every week when you “fill your well.” Everyone’s inspirations are different, but I paint, draw, read, go to museums; frivolous stuff I can’t believe I’m enjoying when I have so much else to do. But, since I’ve started doing these Artist Dates, my well hasn’t run dry. That’s reason enough for me to keep doing them.

8. Pace yourself: Anne Lamott, in her book, Bird by Bird, wrote about putting a one-inch frame over her workplace. On those days when she didn’t think she could write anything, she told herself all she had to do was fill that one-inch frame with words. Most times, she filled the frame, and then some. I do something similar. On days I think I have nothing to give, I tell myself I only have to write for fifteen minutes. If I truly have nothing to put on paper, I can stop after fifteen minutes are up. Most days, I keep writing. Use whatever tricks help you beat the mind monsters.

9. Identify goals and stay motivated: Post your goals near your work area. Not just lofty ones, but everyday ones, too. I find having a work schedule and sticking to my own, achievable, deadline helps to keep me motivated. Writer Margaret Parker made a banner and put the date she planned to have enough money from her writing to quit her day job. With every step she makes toward that goal she adds a gold star to the banner. Voila! Instant, visual motivation. How about trying that with your manuscript? A gold star for each chapter. It’s worth a try.

10. Celebrate your improvements: Sometimes I feel like I’m making the same, dumb mistakes. Rereading my first (lousy) full-length manuscript makes me wince (did I really mail that out?), but it sure does show me how far I’ve come.

11. Be a writer: Shelley Cooper, whose first book, Major Dad, was an August Silhouette Intimate Moments release, writes, “On those days when I feel like it would be more fun to clean out the dust bunnies from under my bed than write, I remind myself of all who are where I want to be. So, I say to myself: ‘Sandra Brown is writing, Tami Hoag is writing, Linda Howard is writing…’ Works like a charm. The dust bunnies are thriving.”

No one can be energized every day. I have my days when I’m tired, grumpy, and my words feel as substantial as stale marshmallows. When I moan and ask my husband to tell me again why I’m doing this, he hugs me, points me toward the computer, and says, “Because you’re a writer.”

Of course. I’d almost forgotten.

~~~~~
Lisa E. Arlt’s first book, Smoke and Mirrors, was released by Harlequin Temptation in April 1998.

by Michelle Monkou-Samuels

The 1998 RWA National Conference “Golden State of Mind” began in Anaheim on Monday, July 27. This annual event draws the major players in the industry, including fans. I met three women who, together, schedule their vacation around the conference each year so they can meet their favorite authors. They have no interest in writing or becoming members- that’s loyalty.:

My trek to the west began at 6 a.m. The long flight to the West Coast left me exhausted, especially after traveling for hours with an airline that only provided nuts and yucky snacks (like beef jerky). Once I checked into my hotel, I had a second wind and hurriedly made my way to the Goody Room for books, gifts, and information. I moved through the room like a starved pup; never mind the stack of unread books from last year’s conference and the two baskets of books I won at the WRW retreat, all in their original piles in my home. Boy, did I load up. I had visions of myself falling onto the luggage carousel when I tried to claim my luggage.

WRW had good representation among the other hundreds of RWA members. Old friends caught up on each other’s lives. New friendships were made as we shared dreams, fears, and accomplishments in the industry. Workshops targeted a range of skills and interests from the general track to the publishing track.

Julie Garwood and Anne Stuart, keynote speakers at the luncheons, were bonuses to an already fun-filled conference. If we all followed Anne Stuart’s zany words of wisdom and zest for life, we probably wouldn’t have as many neuroses and personality disorders, and would remember to enjoy life in our creative worlds.

She entered the room with an entourage which included our own zany Cathy Maxwell and Laura Hayden. Cathy donned a boa and dark shades as she sashayed to the front, while Laura pretended to be the secret service agent escorting her ward.

Despite the numerous activities and getting reacquainted with friends, something was missing. It would have been nice to have that pink ribbon attached to my nametag signifying “First Sale.” Or, maybe it was that dreaded jet lag that made me sleepy by 8 or 9 o’clock at night and wide awake at 4:30 in the morning.

All that changed when it came time for my editors’ appointments. I had practiced with friends, in front of the mirror, and in my head. Yet, when I sat in front of one editor, my mind went blank and I had to whip out my letter-size yellow page, apologizing profusely as I launched into reading my story. Despite my amateurish behavior, she actually listened, smiled, and requested the entire manuscript, providing tips on how to make the inner conflict more compelling. I came out floating on the good vibes.

That night it was time for the Golden Heart and Rita awards. “Everyone give a golfer’s clap for our Golden Heart nominees: Pam Poulsen and Heidi Betts, and Rita nominees: Mary Jo Putney, Ruth Glick, Patricia Gaffney, and Nora Roberts” (my sincere apologies if I neglected to mention someone). Sitting in the audience, I couldn’t help but visualize that special day when my book would be nominated for a Rita. The pride and sisterhood I felt made me yell madly whenever a WRW member was mentioned. The prophetic sense that fulfillment of my dream was close made me heady.

But, oh, so quick, it was over. Good-byes were the hardest, but thank goodness for e-mail. Some writers and I have created a support group called the “Soul Sistas” with our sisterhood spanning the West Coast in California through Missouri to Maryland. Together, we plan to take one day at a time to maintain that Golden State of Mind.

These words were printed on a card that was given to each attendee at the awards. I share it with those who couldn’t be there:

“The dream is mine. I hold it tightly. It sustains me. Guides me to my chair and sits me down. Keeps my fingers flying across the keyboard. Words pour from my heart for I know that my heart speaks to another’s. Alone and separate, we bridge the distance between us finding common ground in the warmth of the most basic human emotion-love.

The dream is power. It’s the gift of imagination. The ability to translate feelings into words that reach deep inside each of us, an awesome legacy bridging generations with its promise of hope and love...”

See you in Chicago next year!

by Pam Poulsen and Laurin Wittig

Someone had to do it. Really. It was a public service, so, good self-sacrificing human beings that we are, we took up the gauntlet—well, maybe the place tickets—left our husbands and children behind and took ourselves off to the auld country. Scotland. We couldn’t expect to send a whole tour over there without someone testing the premise first, now could we? In an effort to serve our home chapter, we collected our questions, checked our research shelves for the vast holes in our libraries and headed across the pond. Here’s what we learned:

Getting There:

Sitting on the tarmac at Kennedy for two hours isn’t much fun. Take another obsessed writer with you to talk to. You may not get much sleep but you will feed each others’ curiosity (and you can trade the parts of your meal you don’t want).

Try not to look at the road when you take your first ride on the left. It’s really not very helpful if you shriek “Watch out!” every time you turn a corner into the “wrong” lane.

There are sheep everywhere. Watch your step.

In many ways Scotland looks and feels a lot like the U.S., except for the bathrooms (much cleaner), the highways (much narrower), and the castles (much older).

Castles:

Don’t expect the locals to know about the wonderful castle you’re on your way to see. When asking about a castle a few miles up the road, we were told by a shopkeeper, “Oh, are you talking about the ruins? I never go to the ruins.” Blasphemy.

Castles are frequently smaller than you would expect. Nowhere do you feel this more clearly than while climbing a narrow turnstile (circular) stair, barely wider than a braw lad’s shoulders and without railings. We wondered how many drunks lost their footing inside these things.

It was hard to imagine real people (except for the aforesaid drunks) in the castles—until we discovered the privies. Somehow the tiny window over a drafty seat and a niche in the wall, head high, just right for a sputtering candle, brought the ghostly inhabitants to life for us. Go figure.

Changes in a castle’s architecture baffled us until we heard an ancient voice whispering “Dear, I’d really rather that door be over there.” Suddenly, the changes each new inhabitant to the castle had made made sense. Remodeling isn’t a modern phenomenon.

Things to Take With You:

Take a pair of comfortable shoes. No, take two pair. Preferably waterproof. Also see above: sheep.

Film. Take lots. Take more than you think you will need.

Suitcases. Pack an extra one. We needed it to bring back all the books we bought. Oh yeah, and souvenirs. On the subject of books. Buy as many as you can at the Historical Scotland gift shops found in many castles. Not only do they carry books not easily found in the U.S., but we found them to be much cheaper than elsewhere, too.

Notebook. Take one for a journal. Good luck keeping up with it. We finished writing about the trip around a week after we got back.

Tape recorder. If you are going to do research (and you are, of course, right? This is a business trip. Right?) take Denise McInerney’s suggestion (we did) and take along a small tape recorder. Many times you will find fascinating detailed information on plaques and signs around the castles that is not in any of the guidebooks or other reference material. You can spend you whole trip writing this stuff down, or you can read it outloud to yourself. Your choice.

Binoculars. If you like bird watching definitely take a pair; even if you don’t like the birdies, many times you can’t get close to the detail around the doorway on the third floor of a castle, (because you are looking at it from ground level, the upper floors long since rotted away) and the binoculars would be helpful.

Flashlight. Get a small flashlight, one that will fit in your purse and keep it with you at all times. Why, you ask? Good question. There are many dark corners and tucked away places in old castles. A little illumination in these cases is very helpful, especially on rainy days.

Surprisingly, few of the questions we had carefully prepared to research were actually answered. What we discovered instead was a deep love for the chilly, windy, endlessly varied country that is Scotland, and a hands-on feel for the history that is many times older than our own. Was it worthwhile, then? Absolutely!

~~~~~
Pam Poulsen is a Golden Heart Finalist for her paranormal manuscript, For All Time, and is now hard at work on a Scottish historical. Laurin Wittig is also hard at work on a Scottish historical. They are already planning their return trip to Scotland.

by Diane Perkins

What do women want?

Sigmund Freud, with all his brilliant insight into the human psyche, couldn’t figure this out.

The millions of readers of romance novels, who make the romance genre account for almost 50 percent of mass market book sales, know the answer to Freud’s question.

Women want a romantic hero.

What qualities do these fictional heroes possess that entice great numbers of women to invest their time, money, and hearts in paperback books? If the perplexed males in our lives would read romance novels, they might find out how to be romantic heroes themselves. But most mortal men won’t be caught dead with a romance, preferring books with fights and chases and crimes to be solved.

For them, then, here are 10 easy steps to guarantee how a man can become exactly “what women want.”

1. Be flawed. Surprisingly, women don’t want the heroes of romance novels to be perfect. Perfect is boring. After all, if the hero has no flaws, what can the heroine offer him? Romantic heroes are often arrogant, short-tempered, and tough. They are complex and full of paradox. The romance reader wants the hero to overcome his faults, grow emotionally, and rise to grander heights because of his relationship with the heroine. Love enriches him and makes him into a better person.

2. Be self-assured. No, this does not contradict tip number one. The romantic hero knows himself well. He knows his strengths and weaknesses and accepts himself as he is. He has come to terms with who he is and, as a result, has confidence and surety of purpose. The heroine is attracted to his confidence, though her challenge that he become a better person always shakes him up. The hero is less sure of himself in her presence. She upsets his equilibrium.

3. Be tough. The romantic hero handles adversity, tolerates pain. He does the difficult jobs, the ones that need doing, that no one else wants to do. Romantic heroes are often special military men, like Navy Seals, or policemen, or rescue workers risking their lives for others. The worlds they inhabit are often bleak and depressing, as well as dangerous. The romantic hero is often emotionally (and physically) wounded, and the heroine’s love is what he needs to heal.

4. Be controlled. Though tough and often foul-tempered, the romantic hero nonetheless exhibits remarkable self-control. He shoulders his burdens without complaint and nevers dumps those burdens on others. He is too self-disciplined to discharge his emotions onto others. The heroine, then, helps him loosen up enough to risk sharing some of his burdens with her.

5. Be trustworthy. The romantic hero is a man of his word. If he says he will do something, he will do it. The heroine can count on him; especially, she can entrust her own vulnerability to him and know that he will not betray her. The plots of romantic novels sometimes include elements where the hero seems untrustworthy and might appear to betray the heroine; however, the reader always knows he will reveal himself to be unwaveringly true to her.

6. Be ethical. The hero’s strong sense of ethics is closely related to his trustworthiness. The romantic hero knows what is right and what is wrong. He stands by his beliefs even in the face of his own annihilation; indeed, even if he fears that, in doing so, he will lose the heroine’s love. The hero is not afraid to stand alone for what is important to him. He plays by the rules, though sometimes the rules are of his own making. He does not prey upon the less fortunate, but saves his strength to fight injustice.

7. Value equality. The romantic hero accepts his heroine as his equal, although it sometimes takes the whole book for him to learn to do so. He becomes less fixated on having his own way and learns to consider the heroine’s needs, wishes, and goals as equally important as his own. Rather than bully and dominate, he seeks to achieve an equitable balance between himself and the heroine, one in which they both are winners. He might even learn to cook.

8. Be physically fit. In romance novels, the hero’s fitness often reaches idealized perfection, but the important point is he values his body and his health. He may stretch his physical abilities to the limit and beyond, but he would never neglect himself physically or abuse his good health. At least, not once he meets the heroine.

9. Be sexually generous. Sometimes the romantic hero begins the book focused on superficial sexual relationships and his own pleasure. His relationship with the heroine, however, travels beyond the sexual. Lovemaking is one area where the hero can show the heroine his love. In his lovemaking, he gives as much or more than he takes. It is essential to him to please the heroine, to show her physically that he loves her. To his wonderment, the pleasure he receives from their lovemaking is intensified by his generosity.

10. Finally, be sure to have dark-as-night hair with a habit of falling waywardly across your forehead. The romantic heroine will ache to gently comb the unruly hair back into place with her fingers.

Actually, is it not really essential to have dark, touchable hair. Women manage to fall in love with heroes who come in all shapes, colors, and sizes. It is essential, however, that the romantic hero act like a hero.

Gentlemen, there is no secret to what women want. Behave like a romantic hero and women will want you.

~~~~~
Diane Perkins, a WRW member and aspiring romance writer, is a licensed clinical social worker with over twenty years experience in the mental health field.

by Julie Moffett

In the October 1996 issue of Romantic Times magazine, best-selling romance author Patricia Potter wrote a very thoughtful article on genre jumping that started me thinking about my own writing career.

In case you are unfamiliar with the term “genre jumping”, it’s often described as an “irrepressible creative need” for an author to write books in a variety of different genres or sub-genres.

Many authors do it. Some are successful; some are not. Some use pseudonyms when switching genres, some don’t.

Just for the record, I genre-jump.

There, I’ve confessed.

But has it helped or hurt my career?

In my particular case, the jump was small. My first two books were straight historical romance. Then I made the jump to time-travel romance.

Was I nervous that my readers wouldn’t follow me to the new romance sub-genre?

To tell you the truth, like many genre-jumpers, I hadn’t really thought about it until I read Ms. Potter’s article. Maybe I should have, but I didn’t. I didn’t use a pseudonym either. I just wrote a different kind of book, hoping I would bring my readers along to the new genre. To my delight, my time-travel completely sold out of its first printing.

Maybe it was just blind luck. Or maybe my mother’s publicity efforts (i.e., giving my books to everyone she has ever known, including my old boyfriends) worked. Whatever the case, I thank my lucky stars that my particular jump was successful.

I even received concrete benefits from the jump—a higher print run for my next book, a bigger advance, and a better slot.

So, I survived the jump and actually benefited from it. Does it mean I should stick to writing time-travels?

Perhaps.

Will I?

Nope.

My next book is a straight historical. And the book after that is the sequel to the time travel. Aaggghhhh! I’m genre-jumping again. Does this mean I’m hopelessly afflicted?

Probably. But, thanks to Ms. Potter, at least I’m aware of the consequences.

And the consequences can be severe. Big jumps—for example, from sweet historical romance to contemporary romantic intrigue—can be dangerous to your career without using a pseudonym. Your loyal readers will expect a certain type of story from you. If you are beloved for your light-hearted and sensitive portrayals of romantic relationships, then your readers may not appreciate a dramatic shift to a dark, horrifying novel about a serial killer stalking your heroine. The bottom line is this—if you lose readers, you lose sales. Lower sales can have unfortunate consequences on your business relationship with your publishing house. Ouch, that can hurt.

But I’m ever the optimistic.

I believe genre-jumping can be managed and even used to an author’s advantage, if done properly. In my opinion, small jumps using the same pen name is safe. Several Regency writers have successfully moved back and forth between the shorter traditional Regencies to longer historicals without using pseudonyms. So have many historical authors who decided to write time-travels. Short contemporary intrigue writers have flourished by writing longer romantic suspense without a name change.

The direct benefits for authors are gaining new readers, improving sales records and being in a position to negotiate better contracts. And, of course, authors are able to stretch themselves creatively—a benefit for readers, fellow authors and the industry as a whole.

However, bigger jumps require pseudonyms. Eileen Dreyer is a perfect example. She writes great mysteries under her own name, but uses a pen name (Kathleen Korbel) for her short contemporary romances. Jayne Ann Krentz (aka Amanda Quick, Jayne Castle, etc.) is another good example. Jayne can successfully write contemporary, historical and futuristic romance and isn’t stuck in the same old rut.

Hmmm ... definitely a plus.

So, what does this mean for my career in particular, given my tendency to genre-jump?

Well, I suppose that if I ever decide to write that contemporary romantic intrigue for which I already have an outline, I’ll have to think of a good pseudonym.

Gee, I wonder if the name Nora Roberts is already taken?

by Lisa E. Arlt

The woman of the Eighties did it all—she could bring home the bacon and cook it up, too. The woman of the Nineties does it all, too. She’s just too tired to enjoy it.

When I first decided to write, only my husband supported me. Everyone else told me it couldn’t be done.

“You don’t have time to be a writer,” they said. “You have a husband, a full-time job and two dogs. And just wait until the kids come. You won’t even have time to breathe. Why don’t you wait until you’re older?”

I felt old enough already so I started writing.

The first manuscript took eight months to write and another six months to get rejected. At the rate I was going, I’d be dead before I got published. I needed more time to write.

I got a time management book out of the library. I’d only read a few pages and already I was exhausted. Sort your mail while stuck at traffic lights. Dust while you’re talking on the phone. Cook three dinners at the same time and freeze the other two portions. Get up a half hour earlier.

Their time management seemed more about running myself ragged than finding time to daydream, plan and write. I didn’t give up, though. Instead I took a hard look at my life.

First, I decided my priorities. Easy. My husband, my dogs, my writing. Simple. I could just cut out everything else and I’d have plenty of time to write.

But, I forgot a few things. That writing room I loved so much came with a hefty mortgage and we were all fond of eating daily. So, I added in my day job. Along with the day job came an hour commute, laundry, cooking, food shopping, cleaning the house, walking the dogs, and all the other responsibilities that devoured my free time.

I was back to square one—doing it all and hating it.

I looked at my schedule again. I realized that I had been looking for large blocks of time to sink into my writing. I couldn’t manage that, but I could manage an hour or more each day, especially if I divided it up.

For two days, I kept track of everything I did. I was amazed. I had a lot of free time, I’d just been filling it with other things.

Some of it was necessary. I couldn’t change driving an hour each way to work, but I could go directly to my writing room when I got home, instead of unwinding in front of the television. I didn’t have to cook dinner each night, my husband could also cook. And there was always pizza delivery.

But the biggest and most consistent writing time for me turned out to be my lunch hour. I spent my lunch hours running to restaurants, gulping down food then racing back, more exhausted than when I left. I knew writing couldn’t tax me further.

It was hard at first. In the beginning, I spent more time settling in to write than actually writing. But then I got the hang of it and soon I could write eight first draft pages in that one hour. I had a routine, I was writing regularly, and I hadn’t had to give up much at all.

And then I changed jobs.

I could still write at lunch, but the work was so much more solitary that I craved contact with other people. I compromised—writing three days a week, lunch out with my friends the other two days. Around that time, my husband began attending college at night. Two nights a week the house was quiet. Perfect for writing.

It was difficult to adjust from writing mid-day (when my energy level was high) to writing at night (when I was ready to unwind and go to bed). But I persevered and soon enough my creative muse followed and I was able to write equally well at both times of the day.

And then I changed jobs again. And moved. Overseas. New culture, new life, new schedule.

I didn’t have a lunch hour, or even my own desk to scribble some notes. I work shifts—mornings or evenings. Pure havoc for a woman who thrives on routine and a set writing schedule. I had to adapt.

When I work mornings, I write after work. When I work evenings, I get up early and steal time to write before work. Since my Embassy work schedule changes weekly, so does my writing schedule.

It isn’t always easy, and I don’t always put in the writing time that I’d like to. But the end result is still the same—I’m writing.

Everyone’s priorities are different, everyone’s schedule is different. For me, writing is a top priority, so I take the time to do it.

Only you can decide how you can fit writing into your already busy schedule. But, I guarantee you, if you want to make the time to write, you will.

~~~~~
Lisa E. Arlt wrote this article in four spurts sandwiched between her day job and her life. Her first published book, Smoke and Mirrors, will be released by Harlequin Temptation in April 1998.

by Lisa E. Arlt

They had rules.

Strict rules I had to agree to before Scribblers, a Brussels-based English-language literary critique group, would even look at my writing sample. Regular attendance, a page of my new writing brought to the meeting each week, and I wasn’t allowed to respond to any of the critiques.

I didn’t have a problem with the first rule, and a page a week didn’t phase me. I’m a writer. I write.

But the third rule made me mad.

“You mean I can’t ask questions?”

“No. You can’t respond. Whatsoever.”

I understood their reasoning. Who wants to listen to a 30-minute diatribe about why line two, paragraph 11 of chapter 47 really does show all the motivation for your nun-heroine to become a serial killer, and if you’ll just listen for another 30 minutes, the author will explain it to you again.

Their reasoning was clear, but the rigidity of the wording bothered me. I saw prison bars.

“What if I want to talk?”

“You can’t. It’s not allowed.”

I had no choice but to agree. I could either accept their rules or not have a face-to-face critique group. And I did miss my face-to-face WRW critique group.

My WRW critique group didn’t always agree, nor did we always get along, but we did support each other as writers, and that’s what I missed. When I was having a bad writing week, they understood what that meant and how important it was. I missed the support I got from them, as tangible as the back of my computer chair. I missed feeling like I belonged.

So I agreed to all their rules.

I attended the group. Knees knocking, breathy-voiced and more nervous than when I’d met my boss, the American Ambassador to Belgium, I read my work first, just to get it over with.

I read the first three pages of my new category romance, Raw Silk. When I finished, there was complete silence, then someone murmured, “Oh, my.”

It didn’t bode well.

They didn’t say much. They couldn’t. None of them had read a category romance, although two of the women did admit to enjoying a Danielle Steele novel when they had the flu or were really, really tired. And wasn’t there all that talk about a romance novel about bridges?

A man in the group was impressed by the eroticism of the piece. My hackles rose—this was about true love, not about sex—until I realized he meant his emotions had been touched. And that was what I had been aiming for.

They read next. The writing was fluid and visually evocative, the pacing laboriously slow. I bit my lips to keep from asking, “Is this scene crucial to the plot?”, not really sure if literary fiction had a plot.

The next week I brought the first three pages in my heroine Cassie’s point of view. Unlike the hero, Victor, I didn’t have a handle on Cassie yet. I’d used this scene as a tool to meet my heroine. The pacing was non-existent but I knew I’d cut most of the scene when I edited.

The group loved it. They found the rambling passages enlightening and preferred Cassie’s mental meandering to Victor’s blunt-edged eroticism.

Their comments didn’t help. The parts they liked, I knew I’d cut. The parts they didn’t like, I intended to keep.

The next week, I was in a slump. My characters felt as insubstantial as paper dolls. My brief career as a writer was over.

Discouraged, I brought three more pages but said I’d rather talk about my writing process.

“We don’t do that,” they said.

“Excuse me?”

“This is a serious, working critique group,” one of the members explained. “We only deal with the work.”

Well, I was in a slump, and until I got out of it, I wasn’t doing my work.

After the meeting I called Laurin Wittig, my friend and WRW critique partner. “They only care about the words,” I said. “What about the emotional support? The talking? The commiseration? What happened to the emotion?”

Laurin waited until I finished my tirade. “That’s the difference between romance writing and literary writing. Romance is about emotion.”

She was right. Some literary fiction I’ve read had phrases so soulful they melted in my mouth like chocolate. But my heart remained untouched and I put the book down.

I read to feel—to dream—to heal.

I write for the same reasons.

I left the group. Good writing is good writing, but writing is also about emotion.

I’m thinking of starting my own group. No rules, no mandatory page counts, just good emotions and good friends. If you’re interested, you provide the airfare, and I’ll provide the Belgian chocolate.

~~~~~
Lisa E. Arlt , a WRW member since 1994, is currently employed at the American Embassy in Brussels, Belgium. Her first published book, Smoke and Mirrors, will be released by Harlequin Temptation in April.