Not So Interesting Reading

I just finished a not so great book. I won't say the title or the author's name, but it was a fairly recent Harlequin Blaze. It really pisses me off when this happens. I know most writers will read this and think, well, if something like this got published, then I definitely have a shot. but for me, I just think... "What was the editor thinking buying this in the first place?"

Most importantly, the characters pissed me off. I didn't like them, I thought their actions didn't make sense in the context of the character development and their "internal conflicts", if you can call them that, were dumb and were never resolved at the end. They both had the same internal conflict. She was afraid to tell him what she did for a living, because working construction would make her look somehow "less" in his eyes (she thought) and he was afraid to tell her that his family was a bunch of steelworkers from Pittsburgh. I'm sorry, what year is this? Really. Who gives a shit?

First, the heroine took the construction job mostly as a screw you to her family, but also because she needed the money and liked it better than working a desk job. Well then, be proud of what you do. If you can't even admit what you do (and it's not something that could get you killed, like working for SD-6 or the CIA), then why are you doing it? And how is it a screw you to your rich family, if you're ashamed about it and won't tell anyone?

And the hero being embarassed by his family? Well, that's not even something I can respect. And if he's afraid to tell the woman he supposedly loves, because he's afraid she'll dump him? That's not a woman I'd want to be in love with.

And in the end, the hero gave her a modelling job to get the heroine out of the "screw you" construction job so she didn't have to be embarassed, and he still never told her about his family...

Worse, and I think the most heinous crime a romance writer can commit. They didn't fall in love. IN A ROMANCE NOVEL!!! Sure they had sex. And they supposedly liked being around each other, even though the heroine kept avoiding the hero and running the other way from him. But I never saw why or how he fell in love with her, or vice versa.

But because she gave him a couple of blow jobs and pretended to be a "mystery woman" in the beginning of the book, somehow made it a sexy book worthy of the Blaze label. Puh-leeze. In this day of Black Lace and Brava, a few blow jobs does not erotica make.

In my opinion, as both a reader and a writer, these are the barebones of your romance novel.
1. Internal conflict. Something that keeps the hero and heroine apart throughout most of the book. Otherwise it's a happy little outline of how they met and fell in love. Ho hum. I want to be enthralled. I want to sit there on the edge of my seat screaming at them, it's the love of your life. Why won't you see that? Will they ever get together? And when they do get together, I want a big sigh and a smile, knowing it worked out they way it should.

2. Romance. Otherwise what's the point?

3.Character development that stays true. If a rich girl decides to shuck her rich, educated background to do construction, let her do it because she's passionate about it, and is proud of it. To have her be ashamed and hiding what she does completely goes against what it is that she's trying to accomplish in the first place.

4. Respect. If I can't respect the hero and heroine's decisions and actions, even if I don't agree with them, then I can't give two shits about them, and again, why bother reading the book.

Without this, you have a book that completely misses the mark.

Are you talkin' to me?

I joined a new critique group.

I'm a little nervous about that fact, because of how badly things went with my last one. I have to confess I'm still pretty bitter about that group, but I think leaving was really the best thing for my writing. Their writing styles were very different from mine. I haven't gotten into the "must write for hours everyday" mode, whereas everyone else had pages and pages to share every week. Mostly I wasn't like that because of my control freak-perfectionist-agonising over every word frustration, but also because I let life (ok and tv *grin*) interfere too much. And it was very discouraging for me to come to meeting after meeting without anything to share because I hadn't finished anything to a high enough standard that I was willing to show it to other people. And when I did bring stuff, I had rushed through it and it wasn't "finished" and the critiques would make me mad, mostly at myself, because I hadn't done what I know my work needed.

And, really, I didn't feel I fit in with that group. Not that that's unusual. I tend not to fit in in most groups, but for some reason I thought that I should have fit in with the people I was baring my soul to week after week. But I didn't.

But since leaving the group, I finished my novella, had it requested by an editor looking to buy, and have started a new book. And, I see a very distinct improvement in the quality of my writing. I don't know if that's because of a newfound confidence away from the negativity of the old group, or because I'm taking more time with my work before I deem it "finished". (Probably a little bit of a and b...)

The thing about "finishing" something before you share it, is sometimes you need that brainstorming, that group discussion of what's going to happen next and whether that's the right direction... which you can't get if you wait til you're finished to show it around.

What I have found helpful, is something I heard Margaret Moore
suggest in a workshop. When she gets to a place where she's stuck, she starts deleting sentences until she gets to the place where things went wrong. I sort of see it as one of those Choose Your Own Adventure books, where you end up dying with the choices you made, so you keep going back through your choices and making the other one until you get somewhere good. And while I find that works a lot of the time, sometimes you really need that discussion with other writers.

But I'm seriously wondering if joining a new group is the smartest thing to do. What's wierder, is that one of the members is my boss in my day job. We have a very good chummy relationship and I feel like I can be honest with her, and we've agreed that work and critiquing are very separate things (what happens in vegas, stays in vegas :) ), but there's still that balance of power. I mean, she holds the power to fire me in her hands...

Well, I guess we'll see. I haven't actually met the other person in our threesome yet, because she's been ill, so we're going to be doing the email thing. Less pressure that way I think.

Keep your fingers crossed...

Lies, lies, lies

I'd hoped to keep this blog mostly about my writing, but what happened to me this afternoon completely blew my mind.

I'm a firm believer in taking a lunch break when you work 8 hours a day. First, I think it makes you more productive, because you give yourself time to recharge, and second, well, you need to eat (and as is apparent by the size of my ass, you can tell I like to eat *grin*). On my lunch break, I usually hide in a corner and read a book. Call it anti-social, call it my way of recharging, it's what I like to do.

So I'm sitting next to one of the only windows in our cafeteria (which quite frankly is entirely too small when you consider that over 800 people work in this building.) I've been there for a while, so I've settled in with my book du jour (Writing For Children & Teenagers), when this woman comes right up next to me and says "excuse me."

She claims she'd said it several times, and I'll admit it's entirely possible she did, because I've worked hard at tuning everything out around me when I'm reading. Blame it on growing up in a big family.

I guess what she wanted was to get into the chair that was directly behind me at the table behind me. The thing is, I was leaning on the table I was sitting at, so had I moved in, I would have been squashed up against the table. Which is not the most comfortable position to read in. So I said "I don't have anywhere to go, sorry."

And she starts freaking out at me, screaming that I'm not the only person in the cafeteria, and that all she wants to do is sit in the chair. So I say again, "I don't know where you expect me to go. I'm sitting here." So she's still screaming at me, then pushes the table that I'm leaning on several feet away.

I'll tell you, I was flabbergasted that she was so rude, but whatever, it's not worth freaking out over, despite the fact that she's now made it difficult for the person at the table on the other side of me to move anywhere and completely invaded my personal bubble.

So I scootch my chair over and go back to my book, not giving this crazy lady another moment's thought, despite this being the SECOND time this woman has freaked out at me like this. Of course, on later reflection, I should have pulled the table back to where it was and told her to shove it. But I'm a wuss. What can I say.

At the end of the day, boss lady comes to me and tells me that she had a call from Nasty McBitchy. And I'm all, who? And she says that Nasty called her to tell her we had a confrontration in the cafeteria and she was really mad about it. Not only was she really mad about it, apparently *I* was rude to her and this was the second time I'd been rude to her in the cafeteria and she was going to go to the CEO about me. (Because I'm sure the CEO has nothing more important to do than listen to Nasty McBitchy whine about not being able to sit in a chair in the cafeteria, despite the FOUR OTHER EMPTY CHAIRS at that table.)

I was floored. She actually called MY BOSS. Worse, SHE LIED and made up this story that I was totally out to get her, leaving out the accosting me and slamming the table on which my elbows were resting across the room part. Really, what did she think she was going to accomplish? Get me fired because I wouldn't scootch my chair over? Umm, can we say wrongful dismissal much? Can we say giant lawsuit against a company that needs more bad publicity like I need a hole in the head?

But seriously, how pathetic is this woman's life that she gets her kicks out of starting shit like this? I just couldn't believe it. I can't wait to find out if anyone else says anything about this. I'm almost aching to go to the press cause this has made me so mad. Arrrgh. it almost makes me wish I had told her to shove it. Let her try this shit again. She'll see a whole different Pink Pen, let me tell you.

Signs, Signs, Everywhere a Sign

I commute really, really far to get to work. I mean really far. I live just outside of the GTA on the east side, and I work just west of the GTA. So I spend a lot of time on the 401. No. A. Lot.

And I realized the other day just how dependent I am on the signs, particularly the electronic ones that tell you how well the traffic is moving. My favourite is Express and Collectors Moving Well.
My least favourite is Express and Collectors Very Slow. (go figure.)

The thing is, for the past few days, these signs have been blank. No guide to how traffic is moving and all I can see is the great big eighteen-wheeler in front of me. And Fly Guy, your local traffic reporter, is really no help. I love when he broadcasts "And there's nothing to report on the 401" and meanwhile I'm sitting dead stopped in the "fast lane" on the express lanes no less. So without these signs, I have no way of knowing if my ride home is going to take me 45 minutes or three hours. And without that control, I feel just a little lost.

What's even odder, is that despite the fact that I've been making this drive five days a week for almost a year now, there are still places, particularly between the 400 and Yonge Street, that I can't find any landmarks that make me realize where I am. Because of the really really bad drivers on the 401 during rush hour (yeah, you know who you are, and you're always driving in front of me!), I tend to spend most of my time watching the cars and the road and I don't pay attention to where I am (that and I'm on the road for so long.) So then Mr. Pink Pen will call and ask "where I'm to?" and I'll have no idea. It's very disconcerting.

So bring back my signs!! And maybe I'll feel a little more found.

My Internal Editor Doesn't Have an Off Switch

I'm completely blocked. I have been for weeks now. Every time I sit down to write, I end up staring blankly at my computer screen for hours on end, producing nothing more than a few words, or a full sentence if I'm lucky.

I'm not entirely sure why that is. Granted, I've written more in the past six months than I have in a long, long time (if ever), but I still have all this time on my hands that I could be writing, and yet nothing is coming.

Partly, I think, it's because I still see myself as an editor first. Combine that with my perfectionist control freak tendencies and it means that I have trouble writing crap that I can fix later. My expectations are that it comes out perfect and ready to be published the first time I put pen to paper (or, uh, finger to keyboard *grin*). Which is why, even when I'm "on a roll", I can still take several hours to produce two paragraphs. I know I need to just let go, just splat what's in my head out and then sit down and do what I do best, edit it later. The problem is, I'm trying to do both the writing and the editing all at the same time, and that isn't working. I wish I could figure out how to stop doing that. I've read all of the books about turning off your internal editor, but mine doesn't have an off switch.

Because I'm finding the process very frustrating. If it takes two months to write 30 pages, well, that's a) not very productive and b) rather discouraging that I'm spending all this time "writing" and I'm not really getting anything accomplished.

Beware the Mailbox

I'm beginning to hate my mailbox.

Sure, during the day I have the odd daydream about getting "the call" and jumping up and down and announcing it to my whole office, but I can usually push that out of my head with a nice fantasy about Chris Conrad or Brendan Fraser, er and uh Mr. Pink Pen *grin*.

But at night, as I turn on to my street, I see it, hanging there innocently at the bottom of my stairs. My mailbox. And I dread opening it, just in case it's sitting there, waiting for me. The envelope addressed to me in my own handwriting, that holds inside the letter. The one that says, "thanks for sending your work. it was crap. don't send me anything ever again."

Because I really, really don't want to get that letter. I can't imagine any writer wants to get that letter. And yet, more often than not, we get that letter. Why do we put ourselves out there like that? It's so incredibly scary and risky and emotionally-baring. And yet, being published, our holy grail, is sitting there, waiting for us, so we keep aiming for it, despite the booby-traps and the giant rocks.

That's it,really. I want to be published. I never thought I would. I never thought I'd actually get published. I always saw myself on the other side of the table, as the editor. But now that I've actually finished a piece of work, and I had an editor ask to see it, the possibility is there. I can see it, sitting there on a giant rock, waiting for me. If I could just make it through the wall of spikes and over the giant stone floor that if I step on wrong could disintegrate into nothingness, I'll get it...

Welcome

Good Morning, Good Afternoon, Good Evening, and welcome to my blog.

I am a romance novelist. Aspiring at the moment, but hopefully published in the near future. In my day job, I'm an advertising copywriter for a really big store. Trust me, if you live in North America, you've probably been there. If you live in Canada, you've probably seen one of the flyers I wrote.

The thing is, writing copy about tuna and tires really isn't that interesting, or quite frankly, time consuming. So I have a lot of time on my hands. So I'll practice writing. Because it's very difficult to get "in the mood" to write pink, especially hot pink, while you're a) at work and b) sitting surrounded (and I do mean surrounded) by this many people. And the last thing I need is someone looking over my shoulder and reading about throbbing members and heaving beasts (I know you saw that Friends episode)

I'm currently writing a single title, which I'm targetting for Kensington Brava, called Losin' It. Yeah, you know what "it" is. *grin* I also have a novella sitting in the offices at Kensington Brava, which I have every body part crossed that it will be accepted for publication. The novella actually finalled in an on-line contest judged by other romance novelists. I'd link you there, but it's gone now. Sorry. You'll have to wait til it comes out. (hope, hope).

So stay tuned, and keep reading!