The HEA Cafe

Growing up, I often heard my dad say he never trusted a man who didn’t like dogs. I extended his philosophy in my own life to include animals in general, but the dog-specific element influenced my story Operation Sheba. When I started the story, Pongo, a sweet Rottweiler, showed up as Michael’s pet. In many ways, he mirrored Michael’s character: rock solid, well trained, handsome and agreeable…until you piss him off.
            Pongo’s presence acted as a way to spotlight Julia’s character as well. When the need to sacrifice Pongo in order to save Michael and a group of hostages arises, she racks her brain to find a way to save both the people and the dog. (So I don’t spoil anything, I’ll have to leave you wondering what she does and if it works.)
            I also used Pongo’s kennel as a plot element. As spies, my main characters have to use common items in their environment to get the job done. Situations are never ideal, so forcing them to use their imaginations and view miscellaneous objects in a new light is a way to give them the upper hand against the bad guys. The kennel, Julia’s iPod, and a hearse are all significant tools my spies use in the story. As an author, I love to play MacGyver as much as my characters.
            The final way I used Pongo to add depth to my story was a specific tribute to my father and his philosophy. One of the less admirable characters in Operation Sheba, a power-hungry senator, doesn’t like dogs. He’s Michael’s opposite in all ways so the trait fit him well. I didn’t make a big deal out of it within the story, just mentioned it in passing dialogue between Michael and another character, but that tiny detail reveals as much about the senator’s personality to me as any of his other actions, thoughts, or words.
            Dogs have played a large role in real life for me and I value what they can bring to my stories, but like all characters and plot elements, their purpose in the story can’t be forced. It either fits or it doesn’t. I’ve read books and seen movies where an animal – usually a pet – is dropped into the story without real purpose or clarity, often so the author can kill it off for shock value. Unless your reader has established a bond with the animal, that technique will fail. And if you’ve done a great job creating a bond between the pet and your reader and then you kill the animal off, beware. Your story will end up in the kitchen garbage disposal.
From what I’ve observed in real life as well as fiction, dogs bring out the best and worst in people. My philosophy as an author is a simple take on my dad’s wisdom: whether you’re a writer or a reader, never trust a character that doesn’t like dogs.
            Do you have a favorite fiction character who’s an animal?

Yesterday was a lovely day in here in Ontario, bright sunshine, warm, my flower beds looked lovely, pretty, with pink impatience and yellow snapdragons.  But it is October. Any day now we could have snow and those bright pink impatience will go all yucky, a sort of wet, cold, soggy mass that freeze your fingers when you try to pull them up.  But killing plants that are so vibrant and alive just seems so awful.

But, having pulled up the wet soggy masses in the past, or worst yet, dealt with the wet soggy masses in the spring when the snow has gone away, I gritted my teeth and put perfectly happy plants in a big brown paper bag, so the recycling folks could collect them this morning.

While I was wreaking this destruction, I was thinking about blogging today. I was also thinking about editing my next manuscript. The little plants became symbolic of all of those lovely scenes I have written, bright little descriptions of happy little events that have to be cut. Scenes that were beautiful that have to be cut. Scenes where the prose seemed to flow, that have to be cut.

Pretty pink and yellow scenes, that aren’t working hard enough. Every scene has to do at least three of the following things, or it is pretty and useless.  It must advance the plot, reveal something new about a main character, reveal backstory or foreshadow something about the future. And in addition, every scene must have conflict. Because if they are only pink and pretty, quite soon they will be horrible soggy messes holding your story down. You have no doubt heard this before, (you know, kill your darlings) but it doesn’t hurt to hear it again. It helps me to think clearly as I begin my day of revisions.

Today it is a cold and wet rainy day in Ontario, my flower beds are tidy and my wet soggy masses of plants are sitting in brown paper bags at the curbside. Today, I will be looking at my scenes with a jaundiced eye, ready to pull them out if they are not working hard enough or making sure they do.
Have a lovely day.

I’m in edits this month–just finished substantives and copy edits arrived at my door. So the part of my brain that dredges up pithy blog topics is on a bit of a hiatus. So I asked my readers on my fan group what I should blog about here and received (and am still receiving) quite a few interesting ideas.

One I’ve chosen for this 11th-of-the-month offering is author Lynne Connolly’s, where she noted:

“How about … Harlequin’s recent contention that in times of trouble sales of romance books go up, because people are looking for escape?”

I admitted I was totally unaware of the supposition–edits tend to keep me nose to the keyboard, lost in world of my own making. The best I can do at those times is scan Publisher’s Lunch when it plops in my emailbox. But it’s a good topic because it highlights not only the value of reading but the resilience of the romance genre. I think it also ties into author Margaret Carter’s recent blog at Alien Romances, where she offers:

The August-September issue of SCIENTIFIC AMERICAN MIND contains an article on the importance of storytelling. Benefits of stories for human beings include expanding the capacity for empathy and learning how to function in social groups. One psychologist suggests that stories “may act as ‘flight simulators’ for social life.”

So, are romance readers escaping into flight simulators? What a thought.

I am hopeful that this readjustment of the financial markets will make people see the value of a $6.99 book as opposed to a $250 DVD player. Both are escape mechanisms but in my humble opinion, the book is one that provides a much deeper, long lasting and you-don’t-need-batteries-with-it-experience (unless you’re Kindle-ing…).

But the advantage of the romance novel (or a novel written to the romance genre’s required HEA) is the overall positive tone generated by the book. That, to me, is what makes the genre special and what also makes it powerful.

You are what you think is perhaps an overused slogan from the 1970’s but there is a lot of truth in the adage. Focusing on the negative makes you negative, or more prone to be negative. I’m not just making this stuff up out of my little blonde over-edited head; there’ve been studies done that state so. So when you have a roomful of people thinking, Ohmigod, this is awful and then a cityful of people thinking, Omigod, this is awful and then a planetful of people thinking, Omigod, this is awful…things can get pretty awful.

Hold your fire. I’m not advocating blind Pollyanna-ism. (I originally typed BLOND instead of blind…how’s that for a Freudian?) I’m advocating a realistic appraisal of your ability to choose what you want to focus on and how you want to feel.  

It’s the old glass being half-empty or half-full analogy and where romance novels come into play is they can remind us that the glass can well be half-full, if not overflowing.

Romance novels are far more than just stories of two people falling in love. They’re also stories of faith, hope, perseverance, resilience and determination. They’re an analysis of the personal dynamics between people that often transcend logic.  They’re about strength and they’re about vulnerability. They are the human drama of the heart, and perhaps there is no better time to rediscover that than when the non-human elements of politics and finances seem to overwhelm daily life.

So maybe a resurgence of interest in romance novels isn’t so much an escape as a reminder that yes, this really is what life is all about.

“you shall above all things be glad and young.
For if you’re young,whatever life you wear

it will become you;andif you’re glad
whatever’s living will yourself become…

I’d rather learn from one bird how to sing
than teach ten thousand stars how not to dance.” ~e.e. cummings (1894-1962)

 

~Linnea

HOPE’S FOLLY, Book 3 in the Gabriel’s Ghost universe, coming Feb. 2009 from RITA award-winning author, Linnea Sinclair, and Bantam Books: www.linneasinclair.com 

It’s an impossible mission on a derelict ship called HOPE’S FOLLY. A man who feels he can’t love. A woman who believes she’s unlovable. And an enemy who will stop at nothing to crush them both.

What do you do after you write “The End”?

I like to clean my desk. I’m fortunate in having my own workspace, now that my nest is empty.  I took one bedroom and converted it to an office that looks out onto the street, giving me a luxurious and comfortable writing environment.  I have no excuses about not having a quiet space to get my work done!

Somewhere under the mess of books and papers at the end of writing A Sea Change was an attractive antique, leather-topped table.  Sure enough, I cleaned it off and began my winding-down-from-the-writing ritual.  I gave the table top a good drink of Neet’s Foot oil, allowing it to soak in and rehydrate the leather.  Then I cleaned the fountain pens I use to take notes, and prepared them for the editing of the manuscript.  I went through all my papers and discarded the old sale circulars and outdated bill notices (oops), and polished my wood organizer.  I buffed the pirate chest that holds the chocolate coins I take to signings, and dusted off Pirate Barbie and Ken (and let me just add that Pirate Barbie wears the captain’s hat in my household!).  I gave my lucky bamboo a drink before it died on me and ceased to be lucky.  And when all was done, I had a nice, clean, shiny surface on which to begin my next novel.

What are your writing rituals, either at the beginning, middle or end of a novel?

Am I the only one who comes away from a goal-setting workshop thinking I just need a better plan in order to succeed at better things?  So I write out my plan. Something like this: write four best selling books in two years, sell them to Biggest Name In Publishing publisher and be rich and famous. You know what I mean, don’t you? Don’t you? Or AM I the only one with this so totally wrong idea of goal setting though, cerebrally, I do understand that’s not what’s meant as goals. Chant with me: goals are measurable, definable and achievable. My problem is that in my mind and imagination my dreams totally are all of the above. I have no trouble seeing my name up in lights. And don’t bother reminding me that my dreams/goals are not something I have control over. Let me live in my clouds. After all, I’m a fiction writer. I specialize in pretending.  I do not want to downsize my dreams/goals.  I need them to spur me on. It doesn’t matter how impractical, impossible or unachievable they are. I don’t want to be confused by reality.
What I need in goal setting is different. Simpler. Something that gives me those high and noble attributes of measurable, definable and achievable yet doesn’t destroy my dream. I need to set…well, not goals really. That’s far too solid for me. I need to figure out achievable micro steps. Like meeting my daily quota. Heck, getting myself to do one word on a blank screen is a big deal. 
Do I hear chortles in the background when I call these goals? I’ll have you know my goals are very noble. One word, one sentence, one page and then another and another until voila, I have a book. So what if it’s just a rough draft and needs tons of work. At least it’s something solid to work on. And I can set new micro goals—refine a word, tighten the dialogue, polish a sentence until page-by-page, the manuscript is completed.
And it’s very easy to see the rewards of my system of setting micro goals. I have the words, sentences, and pages to count as they pile up. And if I get discouraged because the dream-sized goal seems illusive, I can shamelessly bribe myself to conquer the micro goals. There is NOTHING like instant (or almost instant) gratification. A cookie with my tea if I do my quota. A trip to the fridge if I do a twenty-minute don’t-take-your-fingers-off-the-keyboard session. Coffee at Tim Horton’s with a friend if I make my weekly quota. And if my cheeks are getting too pudgy, I can substitute whatever reward works at the time in place of the food reward.
What’s wrong with keeping my goals small and manageable? What is it they say? Take care of the little things and the big things will take care of themselves? Works for me.
Now excuse me. I have tea and cookies waiting—my reward for writing this blog.

So how do you set measurable goals? And more importantly, how do you reward yourself? (I’m especially interested in learning rewards that don’t carry calories straight to my hips.)