Readers and Authors: Salieri to Mozart?

Ever see the movie or play Amadeus? In it, Mozart is supposedly murdered by a musician rival, Salieri who, knowing Mozart is ill, still commissions him to write a requiem. The effort required to compose this work added further strain on Mozart's already weakened body, and he dies as a result.
Far fetched, you reckon?

Maybe, maybe not.
The point I'm making is that sometimes readers, in their voracious hunger for new material to read (especially from their favourite authors), don't realise the strain they're placing on authors to complete that next book in the series, to finish their current WIP (Word in Progress) or to hurry up with that next novella, short story ....
Authors are crumbling beneath the strain, worried they'll lose their reader following if they don't feed the monster.
We, the authors, have become Mozart to our Salieris.
Now I'm not saying I don't appreciate and value my readers. Heaven knows I do, and I thank goodness for each and every one, and if I could write faster and produce more books - 2-3 per year - I would, just to satisfy my wonderful readers.
But, alas, I can't.
My ideas flow at a slower pace than some (whom I envy) and my books are larger. On average, my novels range from 114K to 95K words. Those are no small numbers. It takes me approximately 10 months to complete the first draft before it goes to my editor who then picks it apart until it's perfect. The next month I'm editing and re-editing before the manuscript is shipped off to my Beta readers whose job is to spot every typo, every blooper, every gremlin that can wreck a smooth read.
Twelve months later, taa-daa *drum roll* a new book is ready to be launched.
In the  meanwhile, I've neglected my family, postponed social engagements (some of my friends have given up talking to me, and I don't blame them), and scrimped together enough money from my meager royalties for a professional cover design, formatting, editing and proofreading just to get another book out there.
Then I take a deep breath and sit back - for at least a good half hour - at another job done.
The alcoholic drink in my hand is mandatory.
Ah! But it's not over. Now I need to spend the next three months marketing and promoting my latest release while starting on my next WIP.
Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining. I'm simply showing the reality in being an author in the digital age, and it's a pace few can maintain.
I'm hoping I can, as there are a lot more stories inside my head clamouring to get out.
So please readers, when you're inquiring about the next installment in my series, also ask me if I've had a holiday.

As for freebies .... that's for another post, and it won't be pretty.

PS BloodWish is due for release this coming Easter 😊 And if you haven't yet started this series, what are you waiting for? 😉

Available on Amazon. Just ONE CLICK HERE.

Writer's Burnout? Not this Christmas!

As writers we can so easily suffer burnout trying to complete our latest manuscript, blogging, tweeting at appropriate times to connect with differing timezones, networking on Facebook,
Linkedin, Google+… etc, that we forget to give ourselves some much-needed time off.
So, this Christmas I've decided to do just that and enjoy the special time with my family, indulge in Christmas baking and try to get through the list of great reads on my kindle.
I find nothing recharges my writer's cells than reading books by great authors; to let their wonderful gift with words flow through me, and hopefully inspire and even improve my own literary efforts.

But most importantly, it's important to remember the real reason for celebrating Christmas. It's not about the Christmas tree, the presents or the festive food, and as enjoyable as these things are, they are insignificant compared to the momentous events which took place in a Palestinian town two thousand years ago - a town called Bethlehem. That historic night, God came down in human form to be born as a helpless babe and grow into a man who was destined to pay the ultimate price for our sins - death on a cruel Roman cross. He - Jesus - took our place, and our punishment for our rebellion against God, so that we would have a place by His side in Heaven. And to all who place their trust in Him, that's our ultimate destiny.
This is what Christmas is all about - God's incredible mercy, love and justice all combined, in a manger in Bethlehem.

I wish everyone a very Merry Christmas and may you know the love of God which surpasses all understanding.

When Does Social Media Become More of a Hindrance Than a Help? When It Distracts from Writing!

It's the bane of the modern world, yet we can't be without it - facebook, twitter, pinterest, tumblr, linkedin, triberr and others I can't even remember. Too much? For a writer like myself it can become that vortex which sucks you away from the important business of writing.
I did a quick mental maths of the hours I spent on social media compared to working on my manuscript and the result was depressing. No wonder I've been stuck on the same chapter for nearly two weeks - social media is frazzling my brain!
Now, as writers we know it's imperative to connect with our readers. After all, they're our "bread and butter." And isn't that what the gurus in the marketing world are constantly telling us? But, when it tears you away from what's really important - your writing - it's time to start ditching!

Interestingly, some best-selling novelists rarely interact on twitter or facebook, and some others only have a website, but not a blog. Why? They know that it's their books that sell, not their latest status or tweep. Their loyal readers are waiting for the next book in their series and they don't want to disappoint.
The secret to success?

- Keep writing. For if you can produce a great story, the message will spread by word of mouth. That's how 50 Shades of Grey, and even Harry Potter reached superstar status.

- Keep social media to a minimum - It'll always be there, but the time to write is precious. Don't waste it. What's the point in having thousands of followers if that second, or even first, book is never completed?

- Readers won't wait forever. I know after Eragon came out, I couldn't wait to get my hands on the second and third in the Inheritance series. But, I had to wait over two years for the last book, by which time I'd lost interest. To this day I haven't been able to read more than a few pages - the magic is gone.

So, what am going to do? I'll keep my blog and stick to my pattern of posting once a week. Anything more than that I see as spam anyway. As for facebook and twitter? Only when I'm in the mood!
My books come first.

I'd love to hear from you. What do you think? Is social media killing your writing time?

Choose The Correct Font For Your Published Masterpiece. Otherwise, It Sucks!

Yes, I'm late with my blog this week, and that's because I've been "backside up-head down" trying to correct those wretched typos which creep into our writing, and destroy reader credibility. On top of that I chose the wrong font in which to publish! It's amazing how something as simple as font choice can affect the overall look of a book.

Here I was thrilled to finally be holding a physical of my novel, Bloodgifted, only to realise the font I'd chosen - Century Gothic - (despite it's name) is not suited to a work of fiction. Looks great if used to describe the mating habits of vampire bats with accompanying images, but not - I repeat - for a novel.
Who would have thought?!
To illustrate my point, here's an example of Century Gothic in action using a segment from my desperately-trying-to-get-released-novel.

             Aunt Judy and I walked out the back entrance of the house and down the narrow brick-paved pathway that led to a low stonewall separating the house from the Council owned park on the other side. Opening the wooden back gate, she led me out and onto the quiet path that ran alongside the gently coursing Cook’s River. A gentle breeze sighed through the upper branches of the weeping willows that lined the sloping bank, bringing the sweet scent of a summer evening to lazily drift around us. 

She stopped, released my arm and turned to face me. ‘Laura dear…’ she looked at me pensively, ‘…I knew this time would come, but still it’s hard to know where to begin, especially as –’ she paused, her face flushed, and her hands, which lightly gripped my elbows, shook slightly, ‘– you’ll have difficulty believing it. But nevertheless, all I’m about to tell you is the truth. Never doubt it.’

Well, “curiouser and curiouser,” as Alice in Wonderland remarked. As a child it had always been my favourite story – that of an ordinary girl who suddenly finds herself in a strange and perplexing world.   

You can clearly see it doesn't work. The spacing was also wrong. 

Now, here's the same example using Garamond 3, 1.5 spacing - 

Aunt Judy and I walked out the back entrance of the house and down the narrow brick-paved pathway that led to a low stonewall separating the house from the Council owned park on the other side. Opening the wooden back gate, she led me out and onto the quiet path that ran alongside the gently coursing Cook’s River. A gentle breeze sighed through the upper branches of the weeping willows that lined the sloping bank, bringing the sweet scent of a summer evening to lazily drift around us.

She stopped, released my arm and turned to face me. ‘Laura dear…’ she looked at me pensively, ‘…I knew this time would come, but still it’s hard to know where to begin, especially as –’ she paused, her face flushed, and her hands, which lightly gripped my elbows, shook slightly, ‘– you’ll have difficulty believing it. But nevertheless, all I’m about to tell you is the truth. Never doubt it.’

Well, “curiouser and curiouser,” as Alice in Wonderland remarked. As a child it had always been my favourite story – that of an ordinary girl who suddenly finds herself in a strange and perplexing world.

Much better! I only wish I'd it known earlier and saved myself all this time and hassle. But, as the old adage says, experience is the best teacher.
I also decided to change the paper colour, from white to cream, as it's much kinder to the eyes.

There we have it. Live and learn! Now, I must wait another ten days for the CreateSpace people (who've been fantastic through all this) to complete my corrections and send me another physical copy of my book. And, hopefully, this time I can finally press that "Approve" button and my book will be available on Amazon three weeks after that.

Will I hear the Halleluia chorus when that happens? I bloody well hope so!

How To Write A Sex Scene Without Making Your Reader Laugh or Cringe

Now, there's an attention grabbing title, and for most writers, the scariest one, for this is the hardest section of their book to write. It's the crucial scene which explores the pent-up feelings of either hero or heroine, delving into their thoughts and motives and even exposing their vulnerabilities - an emotionally charged scene meant to give the reader an 'aah' moment, and one which leads to the characters Happily-Ever-After.
So, how does one write a convincing love/sex scene and create that perfect steam factor without causing the reader to burst into unintentional laughter, shake their head in disbelief, or stop reading altogether?


Solution? I went to my writers group.
These fabulous writer-ladies have been my saving grace on more than one occasion, and there doesn't seem to be a literary or grammatical problem which they cannot solve - especially if there's caffeine and chocolate involved!

With cups of coffee in hand, we discussed - some more openly than others - our varied sexual experiences! Now, this didn't replace our usual manuscript critique. We simply headed to our favourite cafe afterwards and discussed the issue - between fits of giggles and laughter induced tears - much to the amusement of the usual afternoon crowd.
So, with my notes in hand and a caffeine induced brain, I sat down to my laptop and over the next few days produced a sensitive love scene between my two protagonists.
Now, my aim was not to write erotica but a beautiful scene in which the male lead, in particular, physically expresses his love for the woman when he's unable to do so in words.

And, here it is.

-->

‘Now, let’s discuss this,’ he said.

I spun around to face him, but as I was still out of breath all I could do was stand there, with my arms clenched by my side, and glare at him. He moved away from the door and came slowly toward me. I took a step back.

‘It occurred to me, I don’t like the idea of becoming a single mother!’ I managed to say between breaths.

‘You should have thought of that sooner.’ He pulled his T-shirt over his head and dropped it on the floor.

I stared open mouthed at his chiseled body, the rippling muscles of his torso and the sword and serpent tattoo on his left breast. It was identical to the image on the stained glass window. On impulse, I reached out and touched it.

‘All the men have one. It marks us as belonging to Luc’s clan,’ he said.

‘Does he have one, too?’

‘Yes.’ The look in his eyes intensified. ‘Keep touching me, Laura.’

My hands traced the hard planes of his chest, stomach and the delectable trail of dark hair that disappeared below the top of his jeans.

‘You told me never to touch you, again. You still feel that way?’

‘If I did, I wouldn’t be agreeing to this. It’s only sex, nothing more. A means to an end.’

‘Did I promise anything more?’

No, he didn’t. This was, as he so succinctly put it, a business arrangement.

He leaned down, as if to kiss me.

I turned my head away. ‘No kissing.’ I couldn’t afford my heart to be engaged any more than it already was. I needed this to be mechanical, detached, void of emotion. If he could be like that, then so could I.

Something flickered in his eyes. ‘Sorry, darling, but it comes with the whole package!’ He drew me to him, and any protest on my part ended the moment his mouth touched mine.

How did he know to part my lips just the right way and delve into my mouth like he owned it, kissing me with an almost fevered energy I couldn’t help but return?

How wrong I’d been to tell him never to touch me again, nor kiss me, when my whole body came alive when he did; when it ached for him. There was no way I could fight this, and if I lost my heart to him, what then? Could I stand it if he went away?

The thought frightened me. This is only sex; only sex, I repeated over and over in my head, but I knew I was fooling myself. It was far too late for late.

Slowly he undid the buttons on my shirtdress, slid it off my shoulders and let it  drop to the floor. My bra soon followed, my nipples hardening at the touch of his hands as they caressed my breasts, while his mouth teased and taunted mine, reducing me to a near-quivering mess.

He scooped me up and laid me in the centre of the bed then took my face in his hands and tenderly kissed my eyelids, my nose, cheeks and chin, before returning to my waiting lips.

The Serpent Rings blazed into life, eclipsing the sad, little light emanating from the bedside lamp. Alec leaned over and switched it off. The room was bathed in a warm, red glow as if the rings themselves were endorsing what we were about to do.

He lowered his head and this time his mouth and tongue explored one breast while his hand cupped the other, his thumb and forefinger circling and teasing my already sensitised skin.

I closed my eyes and revelled in the sensations he aroused in me, arching into him as my body purred at his every touch. My hands roamed his back; his firm shoulders, and as he eased down the length of my body, leaving a burning trail with his lips, any coherent thought disappeared. As his tongue dipped into my navel, his fingers hooked into the top of my panties and slowly drew them down. They joined my dress and his T-shirt on the floor.

I lay there totally exposed and as vulnerable as any woman could possibly be.

Alec rose and removed his jeans. His naked body was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen, and for what seemed like ages, we simply gazed at each other. In the glow of the unearthly light provided by the rings, I could see his eyes had darkened into a deep purple whorl from which I never wanted to emerge.

‘You’re breathtaking,’ he said, then crawled onto the bed, parted my legs and lay between them.

His kisses seared my mouth as his hands further explored my body, touching, stroking and sweetly torturing my most secret place till I was scrunching the sheets and moaning his name.

He lifted his head and looked at me through hooded, almost drunken eyes; his breath as ragged as my own. Then raising himself slightly, Alec hooked his arms beneath my knees, lifted them and spread my legs as wide as they’d go.

My heart hammered in my chest like a construction drill. I could almost hear it. I’m sure Alec could, for his eyes blazed just before our mouths meshed once more and he surged forward into me.

I sighed in sheer relief as his body fit perfectly into mine. There was no discomfort, no hurt, only the sweet friction as he plunged fully into me, moving slowly at first then increasing the pace until my body tightened like a coiled spring, building, building until it broke and my body shuddered with the strength of my release. But Alec continued until another peak washed over me with such intensity I cried out, and only then I felt him tense as he took his own pleasure and spilled deeply within me.

I lay there breathing heavily, unable to think, unable to move, utterly at bliss with the pleasure my body had just experienced. It was something Matt had never been able to do.

‘Oh, no, I’m not finished with you yet,’ Alec said. He slid down the length of my body again and when he reached the apex of my thighs, he looked up at me, and the hunger in his eyes was clear.

I nodded, grasped the bars of the bedhead behind me and held on for dear life

as Alec dipped his head between my legs. His fingers gripped my thighs and held them apart as his tongue lapped at my sensitive core. It was such exquisite torture that when his fangs penetrated the soft skin of my inner thigh, I came so strongly I nearly ripped the bars from their sockets. The mix of pain and pleasure was exquisite and unlike anything I’d experienced before.

Alec rolled off me and to the side, taking me with him. I lay cradled in his arms,  utterly sated and content, and for a while neither of us spoke. Just the sound of our breathing filled the darkened room. Eventually I angled my head up to see him looking at me. His eyes caressed my face then swept down to my mouth, before he lowered his head and kissed me again, long and deep, his tongue stroking and enticing mine into total surrender.

 Soon he was on top of me again, holding my thighs wide apart and plunging even deeper, his groans and sighs mingling with my own. He lifted my hips for even greater penetration, moving within me in a steady, all consuming rhythm, and as I threw my head back, his mouth locked onto my nipple, drawing it into his mouth, teasing and sucking till my whole body convulsed with the intensity of the coming climax. And when it did come, I screamed and felt the tears trickle down my face.

Once again, I lay there panting, exhausted, while Alec rained delicate kisses on my face. ‘Go to sleep…’ he said softly.

I was sure I heard him say, “my darling” as I closed my eyes and surrendered to the darkness.

This scene made it into my first book, Bloodgifted, which comes out the end of July.
Did I get it right?

Trials of a Newbie Author, Pt 2 - CreateSpace Policy Changes

Sometimes, there are days when you feel like staying in bed with a good book - either reading one or writing your own and hoping the world would go away. Unfortunately, it never does.
I've just spent the last four days proofreading (again), editing (again) and polishing my manuscript, till I can't bear to look at it any more! I've reached the conclusion that there is such a thing as over-editing.

Well, I'm done, and so are all the corrections, and now that it's finally ready to go back to CS, I find they've made changes to their Corrections Sheet. Or rather, there is no longer any Corrections Sheet.
While I was busy redoing my eighty-seven typos, CS had introduced a new policy allowing an unlimited number of corrections to be made directly onto the "native" manuscript, which is then resubmitted.

I think it's brilliant! I disliked the old system, as it only allowed for fifty corrections, and any more after that had to be paid for. I went through several of those wretched sheets as my typo skills are legendary!

Part of the new policy also includes CS sending customers a physical proof of their soon-to-be-printed book to check for errors in cover design and interior formatting. But, what if there are errors? Mine's sure to have them - I know, I counted. There are eighty-seven!
As per their instructions, I completed all my revisions on the "native" manuscript, and now I'm waiting for my copy to appear on my doorstep. If there are no problems with the cover, all I then need do is resubmit my script, wait ten days for the online proofs to arrive, check over them and hit the "submit" button.
Maybe, just maybe, my debut novel will be released in paperback form by the end of July, and the ebook, four weeks after that.

Yep, publishing is a slow process, but what's the old adage about slow and steady winning the race?
I believe in creating as near perfect a product as possible; for not only is it a sign of respect for myself, but for my readers. After all, they'll be paying for it.

I'd love to hear your thoughts. Please, feel free to share.

Trials of a Newbie Author

Writing a book is comparatively easy compared to all the work that comes after. If someone had told me that three years ago, I would have said they were nuts! But, it's all true.
You've got a great story; it's down on paper - or on the hard drive - and you can't wait to inflict share it with the rest of the world. Now, comes the editing part and the - seemingly - endless string of corrections. I'm convinced I have dyslexic fingers! Then again, from a total of 119,000 words, having only 87 typos isn't too bad, I suppose.
Since I turned down the services of a traditional publisher in favour of indie publishing, I went to CreateSpace to format my manuscript into a paperback, and do the kindle conversion for me. I know the facility is there for me to do it all myself, but my knowing my techno-skills - or lack of - I thought it safest - less hair pulling and screaming all round - to let the professionals do it instead.
CS only allows 50 free corrections, and since I've got slightly more than that (I hang my head in shame) and it'll take approximately 4 weeks (and extra bucks, but it's still less than if I was to send them a spanking, brand new manuscript ) for these to go through.

The editing, correcting, re-structuring and polishing my manuscript took longer than actually writing it in the first place. And that's good, as it means my debut novel, Bloodgifted, will not be released until it's ready, and can proudly take its place alongside the best of traditionally published books - although these days it's sometimes hard to tell. The lines between traditionally published and indie published books is blurring. I've seen just as many badly written and edited books with the former as with the latter.

So, how far have I come? Hopefully, in the next two months, Bloodgifted, Book 1 in The Dantonville Legacy, will be released, and the next in the series, Bloodpledge, will be out in 2014.

I'd love to hear from other newbie writers. What has been your writing experience? And if you had the choice, which would you rather choose - traditional or indie?