Murder She Writes

Several weeks ago, I read a review for a book I loved. I don’t know about you, but I tend to look for reviews on a title after I’ve read a book, seeking validation for my own reaction to a story.  I found a write-up on a busy and respected romance review blog, known to be fair and thorough, and often tough. The grade was slightly above average, and I read with interest what the reviewer had to say.

By the end of the review, I was shaking my head, stunned and confused. This reviewer pretty much hated the heroine of the book, calling her plucky (as in obnoxious, not plucky as in brimming with joie de vivre), spunky (adding flat-out that she “hated spunk”), annoying, smug, stupid, and extreme. However, she did applaud the heroine for one single act: falling into bed with the hero who is a selfish, self-indulgent prick. (Her precise characterization, not mine.) Because, as this reviewer essentially said, it’s okay to make a stupid decision when the decision is that smokin’ hot.

Huh?

That wasn’t my reaction to the book at all, but honestly, that’s not my point. The review got me thinking…is there a double standard in romance? Do we cut the edgy, thoughtless, selfish, indulgent bad boy a lot of slack because he’s sexy as sin, hung like a horse, and all alpha all the time? And are we just a tad tougher on our heroines, slamming the sassy, single-minded, sexually uninhibited heroine as a bitch-slut, scoffing at her spirit by calling her “plucky” as opposed to “gutsy?” I do think romance readers (and in this case, I’m counting myself as a reader not a writer) are a little lenient with our boys and stricter with our girls. I’ve never had a reviewer or reader give me a grief for writing a hero who was too decisive, too in charge, too inflexible, or too daring. I have had my more assertive heroines (Vanessa Porter of Then You Hide, I’m talking to you!) dinged for being too mouthy, too opinionated, too stubborn, and too reckless. Yet, what is the difference except semantics and gender?

I may be wrong, but I think we’re less forgiving of our heroines, and that begs the question of why. Is it because, as some have suggested, we put ourselves in their shoes and we are our harshest critics? Is it because we envy that heroine’s good fortune to have a whole book and happy ever after with a guy who turns our legs to Jell-O and our brains to mush, and he can cook well, shoot straight, and make perfect babies? Is it because we don’t really care about the heroines, we read for the heroes? Or is it because we understand women better than we understand men, we know our own nuances and flaws, our potential and our pitfalls, and when we see them reflected in a character, we want to pick them apart in hopes of conquering our own weaknesses?

I don’t know. I do know that most writers tell me they struggle more with the heroine than the hero, and I’m firmly in that camp. In romantic suspense in particular, it’s damn near impossible to write a man who’s “too alpha” — assuming, of course, he does no harm to the heroine beyond weakening her knees and stealing her heart.  Yet, I walk a daily tightrope trying to develop a woman who is strong without being a bitch, courageous without being TSTL, sexual without being a slut, and good enough to be worthy of a fabulous hero, yet not too flawless that she can’t be real.

So, lets talk about it. Readers, do you find yourself more critical of the heroine and more tolerant of the hero’s flaws? Writers, which character is harder to write, and why? And, everyone, do you think we have a double standard in judging the characters in romance? If so, why?

I have news! Some of you might remember my post from a couple months ago, where I talked about working on a new project that I feared might be bigger than me. It was a proposal for a new paranormal romance series and the sample chapters alone really put me through a ringer, which made me want to write the series even more! I sent the proposal to my agent a couple weeks later, and she loved it. (yay!) She sent it out to a few select editors and in the end, after a bidding war (more than one house wanted to publish it, how cool is that?!), I sold the series to NAL last week – home of some seriously stellar paranormal talent such as J. R. Ward, Christina Dodd, Deborah Cooke, Lynn Viehl, the fabulous up-and-coming stars over at Silk & Shadows, and too many others to name here!

The inevitable question after I made this announcement to my close friends was, “What about Eve?” because they know how important the Marked series has been to me. Long story short: I was unable to continue it. Coming to that understanding was very difficult for me, because I love Eve so much and I wasn’t nearly done with her story, but finishing the series wasn’t possible at this time for reasons outside my control. I’m writing an S. J. Day/Marked story for the upcoming Mammoth Book of Paranormal Romance 2, in which I plan to wrap up the pressing question left hanging at the end of EVE OF CHAOS (barring any editorial changes). In that respect, I hope to give series followers some closure. Future opportunities may arise where I can continue Eve’s storyline in novella form and I won’t rule out writing another full-length Marked novel someday, but it won’t be anytime soon. I’m committed to writing “Sylvia Day” books for two publishers and the Marked series is a S. J. Day project.

So, on the cusp of my birthday, I’m setting off in a new direction with a narrower focus and a new publisher. I’m very excited about this for more reasons than I can list and I’ll be sharing more about this new series when I can.

In the meantime, to celebrate the new sale, new series, and ‘nother b-day, I’m offering a $30 VISA gift card to one random commentor. Happy Monday!

Here are the three winners for a copy of ATLANTIS REDEEEMED by Alyssa day! BE Andersen, Chey and Tami!  Email Alyssa at authoralyssaday@gmail.com

Congrats!

Congratulations to this week’s prize winners!

Emmanuelle won a signed copy of Rachael Herron’s new book HOW TO KNIT A LOVE SONG. contact sophielittlefield@me.com with your mailing address and so that she can make sure you receive your prize.

Catherine who commented on Laura Griffin’s blog about saying goodbye won a signed copy of WHISPER OF WARNING. Please contact laura@lauragriffin.com with a mailing address so that she can get your prize to you.

Congratulations and happy reading!

I finished a book today. Whew! Ninety-five-thousand and some odd words. Four pounds, six ounces of printer paper. A gazillion hours at the computer.

In many ways, it’s like having a baby. Months and months of planning, pondering, and nurturing go into it. There are snack attacks. Missed nights of sleep. A few freakouts and meltdowns along the way.

After typing the last few lines, I got up from my computer–feeling a bit numb–and emerged from the cave I’ve been living in these past few weeks to go tell my husband the news.

“I did it! I’m finished!”

“Great!” he said, his relief palpable. (When I spend a lot of time in the cave, I can be a bear to live with, it’s true.) “So, is it good? Are you happy with  it?”

I blinked at him. “I don’t know.”

“But you’re really done?”

“I think so.” (Wavering now)

“Well, did you write ‘The End’?”

“Um, no.”

See, here’s the thing. I never write that. I think I might have written it on my very first book, but I don’t anymore because it doesn’t feel like The End. Not really. Not enough to type the words down there after the last few lines leave my fingertips. There’s still so much left to do. So much left to change, and shape, and polish. So many revisions, edits, and copyedits.

But that isn’t the only reason I can’t bring myselft to write those two little words.

I thought about explaining to him how a book is like a child, in some ways. And even when you hit those milestones, such as birthdays, and first days of school, and graduations (I’m projecting here, we’ve got some years left before then) you’re never really finished. I don’t see myself dropping my kids off at college and saying, “Well, that’s done. The End!” But I didn’t explain any of that because, well, he’s eaten a lot of frozen pizza lately and been a very good sport about this deadline, and I couldn’t bring myself to tell him that in my heart, I’m not really done yet.

I suppose I have a hard time letting go. I used to get weepy giving away baby clothes. I hate funerals. (Who doesn’t?) And those curbside scenes at the airport? Forget it. I determinedly avoid them. I’m not good at saying goodbye, so I skip it whenever I can. When it comes to my books, it’s especially tough for me to close the curtain on things. Maybe that’s one reason some of my favorite characters pop into future books for a visit every once in a while. I miss them! It probably sounds crazy, but when you spend months and months conversing with someone in your head, it can be difficult to let them go. It’s hard to write The End.

Can anyone relate to this? Maybe even simply as a reader who hates to close a wonderful book? Yes? No?

I should probably sign off now before soemone starts to worry that I’m hearing voices in my head (which, truthfully, I do on a frequent basis. Occupational hazard…)

Do you have a hard time writing The End? Saying goodbye? Any coping strategies to share? Or maybe you will share a book ending that moved you so much, it stands out in your mind months or even years later. I’m all ears today.

After all, my book is finished! (pretty much) I’ve come out of the cave! And in celebration, I’m giving away a signed copy of WHISPER OF WARNING, which was one of my favorite book endings. For a chance to win, just leave a comment!

Please give my friend and our guest today, Alyssa Day, a big warm MWS welcome!

Thanks so much to Karin and the wonderful authors here at Murder She Writes for inviting me to stop by!!  I had a blast with Karin and Allison and Eileen Rendahl and the wonderful members of the Sacramento RWA chapter this past weekend.  My first-ever tour of vineyards—loved it!

This is a crazy week for me.  I’m on deadline and just got back into town from California and we have a giant POD in our driveway that we’re filling up.  Why, you might ask?  Well, because my gorgeous and wonderful husband, who flies for the U.S. Navy, came home several weeks ago from a six-and-half-month long deployment and announced that we’re moving to Japan for three years.

THREE YEARS. 

Into a very, very small house on the base at Atsugi, outside of Tokyo.  So I’m learning Japanese and trying to pack up my life.  Much of what we own is going into that giant box to go into storage for three years. 

My life.  In a box. 

Enter: new adventure.  Is it exciting?  Yes!  Is it scary? Yes! 

Is this leap a lot like leaving a very well-paid job as a trial lawyer to be a full-time writer?

Oh, hell, yes. 

I’ve always been the type to leap first and ask questions later.  An ex (you can see why he’s an ex) called it suicidal optimism.  But life, my friends, is very, very short.  We just don’t have time to put off our dreams indefinitely, or to say “no, thanks, I’d rather just sit here in my safe place watching TV” when adventure comes calling.  I’m going to live in Japan for three years and travel all over that side of the world with my family.  My kids will learn to speak Japanese and adapt to other cultures just as I, when I was a kid, lived in the Philippines and Turkey and learned about those languages and those cultures.  My life has been enriched for it, and I hope and pray they will say the same when they grow up—I hope they will enjoy the adventure while we’re in it and look back on it fondly.  That maybe they’ll be more prone to taking leaps in their own lives that will lead to their own adventures. 

Every day, I wake up and go to work in my home office (no commute!) and, as a result of that leap I took seven years ago this month, I create stories and worlds—and  adventures of their own—for my characters.  Stories that I am so grateful to be able to share with readers.  As the old saying goes, my worst day writing is better than my best day as a lawyer.  It’s a leap I will never, ever regret.

Here’s my challenge to you:  take your own leap.  Find a way today, this week, this month, or this year to take a leap—small or large—out of your comfort zone and jump off the roof with your cape flying out behind you.  Be brave! Be bold! 

Take that leap. 

I believe in you.

Hugs,

Alyssa

P.S. Alyssa is offering 3 randomly chosen commenters an autographed copy of Atlantis Redeemed for a pledge to take a leap or the story of a leap you’ve taken recently. 

**

Alyssa Day is the RITA-award winning and New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of the Warriors of Poseidon series about a race of warriors from the lost continent of Atlantis who fall into a world-bending kind of love with human women with very special talents.  Her newest release, ATLANTIS REDEEMED, is in stores now:   When 2,000 years of lost emotion hit you all at once—do you fall in love or die?  Please visit Alyssa online at http://www.alyssaday.com for excerpts, a free short story, video interviews, and more.  Thank you!!

It’s my great pleasure to bring you my first guest at MurderSheWrites – my dear friend and debut author Rachael Herron.  Her book, HOW TO KNIT A LOVE SONG, was released yesterday!

Rachael has been knitting since she was five years old. It’s more than a hobby; it’s a way of life. Rachael lives with her better half in Oakland, California, where they have four cats, three dogs, three spinning wheels, and more musical instruments than they can count. She is a proud member of the San Francisco Area Romance Writers of America and she is learning the ukulele. Visit Rachael at http://www.yarnagogo.com

As I compose this post, I’m finding I’m in a state of writer’s ADHD unlike any I’ve ever known before. My first novel, How to Knit a Love Song, hit bookstores all across the country yesterday. And now I can’t sit still at my desk. It’s something I’m usually really good at. I’m one of those annoying writers who writes everyday. I’m predictable. I just write.

But not right now. I flip between my Amazon rank and my email and my latest manuscript, unable to focus on anything for more than a few seconds. I tear up at anything and laugh even more easily. This trumps when I sent out the first queries to agents and sat staring at my email for months on end. This beats when my agent made The Call.

This newly-minted crazy-feeling sort of beats everything, actually. I’m reminded of being newly in love. I have the same confused feeling, like the top of my head came off sometime in the night, as if someone replaced my insides with caffeine and cattle prods.

Yesterday, we took the dogs for a walk. As we got out of car at the trailhead, they were jumping and straining at the leash, whining with excitement. After forty-five minutes of tearing around, they were more relaxed, and so was I. I’ve gotten to the point where I get so wound up I NEED TO BE TAKEN ON A WALK.

The irony is not lost on me that my book is one of the “knit-lit” books, and therefore, shouldn’t I be one of the relaxed writers? Don’t you have an image of me with a cat on my desk and a steaming pot of tea at my right hand? I’m probably listening to Enya and wearing a flowing robe, a handspun merino sock-in-progress resting on my lap.

Oh, hell no. At the moment, I have a pink stripe in my hair and it’s pulled up with a chopstick stuck through it. I’m wearing a beat up marathon tee-shirt and the sweatpants I live in while writing. The vacuum cleaner is plugged in, ready to run, but I walked away to write this (have I mentioned I’m easily distracted?). I don’t think I’ve eaten today (oh, yes, I did—two pieces of Toblerone and two cups of coffee—good to go). I’m contemplating a scene in my book in which a woman is dangling from the edge a lighthouse and whether or not to let her drop to her doom (yes, in a knitting book—I like to keep the needles sharp).

And when I’m done writing this, I’m either going to check email, go for a run, do some editing, clean the house, or hide under the covers. I might do all of those, and I might try to do them at the same time.

I have a book out there! I’m finally a writer! It’s like I have a blind date with the whole world! And I’m frantic to hear what they tell their friends about what they thought of me at the water cooler the next day.

I’m assured by my writing friends that this is normal for a first book. And there’s only one first book (thank God). But I made a decision at the beginning of this publishing ride to enjoy every moment that I could of it, and this is like the loop of the roller-coaster, the very best part, and I’m screaming and enjoying the hell out of this moment. Thanks for letting me scream a little over here.

So, when was the last time you were so excited you could barely stand it? I’ll be sending a signed copy of  How to Knit a Love Song to a commenter chosen at random, so please chime in!

Do you know the feeling? When I was a kid it was the first day of school. I had a brand new outfit (which was a big deal growing up on a farm—money was scarce) and I couldn’t wait to wear it that first day. A new teacher and new things to learn, maybe even new friends—it was all ahead of me on that first day. As I grew older first dates offered that same sense of excitement. Would he kiss me goodnight? Would there be a second date? Would he be the one? Adulthood and the start of a new job provided a similar sense of expectation. And, of course, my wedding day. Each time I was expecting a child…anything was possible!

Every year the month of March is that way for me. Here in Alabama we can pretty much count on the worst of winter being over when March arrives. Sure we might experience a few more cold spells, maybe even several days here and there but, for the most part, it’s better-days-ahead temperature wise. March means preparing the garden for planting vegetables and mulling over how I’ll do the flower beds this time. I love, love, love that part. There’s nothing better than a ripe tomato right off the vine from your own garden or fresh cut roses on your table from the lovely bush right outside your back door. My neighbors all know how much I love my vegetable garden and my flowers. I adore getting the dirt under my nails and finding new ways to make my yard and porches beautiful. And there’s mowing the yard for the first time and that wonderful smell of freshly cut grass. Feeling the sun on your face as you resurrect your landscape from its winter hibernation. Watching the birds build nests and the trees begin to bud. It’s just awesome. I love it!

 Most of all, I love that as the days of March roll forward and get longer I experience that incredible feeling of “anything is possible!” I’m preparing for conferences and anticipating time with editors and all my wonderful friends in the biz. I’m planning the stories to be written for the rest of the year. Every day is filled with hope and certainty that something new and amazing can happen.

 It’s the same giddy feelings as I launch into a new story. As I type those first few sentences and paragraphs infinite possibilities lay before me. Who will these characters be when they’re fully formed? What unexpected difficulties will my twisted imagination come up with for them? How will they be different from other characters I’ve written? There’s always that slight underlying worry that somehow these characters won’t be as good as certain other characters from past stories or that somehow the pacing will be off or the story simply won’t be as good as the last. But no matter, the idea that something magical could happen on the next page keeps me charging forward. With each story the potential for breaking new ground, for reaching new career heights, for touching a new reader is there. Anything is possible!

But as with watering the flowers and cutting the grass in the heat of mid summer or the frustration of keeping your garden going during those final sweltering weeks of August, the writing can become frustrating and difficult. Maybe there’s a sticking point or logic problem in the plot. Or maybe a character simply won’t behave and stay “in” character. Or, worse, your editor hates some aspect of the story and wants you to revise heavily. And copy edits and galleys for other stories are bogging down your days (and nights!). You begin to wonder why you planted that stupid garden anyway. Who cares if the flowers look like crap (despite copious watering and careful fertilizing and weeding)? Maybe you should have come up with different characters or a different storyline—this one refuses to be finished! It’s too damned hot and you just want it to be over.

 Yeah, yeah, those moments come. As we watch winter fade in the rearview mirror and long fondly for spring and summer, deep down inside we know that it isn’t all tall glasses of lemonade and rocking on the front porch. The beauty of summer is hard work. That “yard of the month” sign stuck between the knock-out rose bush and the azalea wasn’t earned by sitting in that rocking chair drinking lemonade or iced tea. And those wonderful vegetables that grace your table all summer (and into the fall if you’re lucky) didn’t rise up from the earth without back-breaking work from you. Likewise, by the time I’ve written the final page of the story, completed the revisions and polishing, I’m so glad to see it off that I wonder why I wanted to write it so badly in the first place. It will never be as good as the last story (at least not until my editor assures me that it is).

All of it, the flowers, the vegetable garden, the stories—LIFE IN GENERAL—is work. It’s dedication and determination and investment and hopes and prayers.

But right now, March 2^nd, it’s amazing. I can smell spring coming…I can feel that new beginning awakening as I write chapter one. And anything is possible! What do you love about March? Are you planning a new project? And…isn’t it amazing?

(Just so you know, I wrote this yesterday after a beautiful weekend…and woke up this morning to snow….but it won’t last. By the weekend it’ll be up in the sixities and the sun will be shining!)