2T Repeat Performance - Musicians are like cats

 

I've done a number of blog tours over the years, posting on different sites. Now I'm bringing them to you!

Originally published March 4, 2014 for Deal Sharing Aunt

Thank you to Deal Sharing Aunt for having me here today!

Musicians are like cats—we don’t come when we’re called. In just a moment, I’ll tell you why.

 I’m a bit crazy. Not from waking up to a husband who thinks he’s Robin Williams (or a coffee-bean-chewing comedian). It’s not the constant worry of having two boys in the service. It’s not all those seasons of Scrubs and Blackadder on Netflix (honest…well, maybe a little).

And it’s not just me. Most musicians are wired a tad weird, but I never knew why until the awesome Edie Ramer asked me to talk about musicians, and the big foam Clue Bat whacked me with the answer.

Picture your phone or iPod, its earbuds plugged permanently into your ears. All music, all the time. And now you know why musicians don’t come when they’re called, and may wander around as if they’re in a state with legalized marijuana.

My life has a constant sound track.

 Not only does it make concentration hard, but the music doesn’t always fit the action. Believe me, nobody wants to hear circus clown music while making love, not even Robin Williams’s wife.

Here’s an excerpt from Downbeat, told by flutist Raquel “Rocky” Hrbek (edited for space).

I gave myself a stern scolding as Zajicek walked me to my front door. I could not, would not, get used to him helping me. He was an international conductor while the farthest I’d gotten from home was Chicago.

Although he was in Meiers Corners now. On my stoop. Pulling me into his arms… His brilliant black eyes were focused on my lips.

“Ahem.”

I turned my head, still in his arms. Friends Julian and Nixie glared from the walkway, Julian not bothering to hide his elongated fangs or the fact that his eyes glowed red.

As if that wasn’t enough, the scrape of metal on metal, like a door opening, caught my attention. Jaws music played in my brain.

Slowly, I turned my head the other way.

My mother stood in the doorway, her arms crossed over a smock that read “Artists Do It With Feather-Light Strokes”.

Her stare was actually scarier than Nixie’s or even Julian’s. Instead of a black scowl or a blood-red glare, her eyes twinkled with maternal delight. “Mr. Lambo man! What are you doing standing there with your arms around my daughter like a mummy’s bandages? Come in, come in!”

With a blare of horns, the shark strikes.

Thanks for reading!

 

Edie Ramer, author: http://edieramer.com/

Theme from Jaws: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZDcrMScGaj8

 

 

3T Writing Tidbit - Crafting Characters Readers Will Love

 Here's another in the Chat GPT generated blog ideas, balm to a tired brain after a long day. 

 Readers don't want perfection. They want to read about people like them (but better... or worse).

Think about it. What would Sherlock Holmes be without Watson? Holmes is brilliant, but cold and analytical and in many ways normally unapproachable. Conan Doyle wrote a couple stories from Holmes's point of view and the reception was mixed to negative. Watson is like us, and gives us a way to experience Holmes that's appealing.

What makes a character "like us"?

We have flaws. We have desires -- in a story, usually one thing we want badly. We have inner thoughts, some humorous, some poignant. We have awkward moments, inviting empathy. We have anger and love and moments of beauty.

I'm sorry, but I have to use Chat GPT's takeaway line because it's too perfect. After all I said about readers not wanting perfection, lol. 

Takeaway:
A reader doesn’t want flawless—they want fascinating.

Published since 2009, over the years I've accumulated various items of writing wisdom. The Third Tuesday Writing Tidbit showcases these items in no particular order. Click here to see all 3T Tidbits.    

 

2T Repeat Performance - Moving beyond the Biting Love series

 

I've done a number of blog tours over the years, posting on different sites. Now I'm bringing them to you!

Originally published February 25, 2014 for Queen of the Night Reviews

Thank you to Maria and Queen of the Night Reviews for having me here!

Moving beyond the Biting Love series.

First, for fans of the Biting Love series, don’t worry—there are plenty more books yet to come. March 4, flutist Raquel “Rocky” Hrbek gets her story told in Downbeat. Aiden Blackthorne’s story, Assassins Bite, is releasing in November, and Luke’s story is scheduled after that.

While I deeply love the Meiers Corners gang, some other hardbodied male creatures continue calling to me, wanting me to tell their story.

·       Extraordinary humans. CEO Everett Kirk battles both crusading manager Edie and his own more primitive side in Edie and the CEO. It’s a comedy of errors when media star Zan Sinclair tries to meet shy Vicky in Twice Shy (Can tripping over your own feet lead to falling…in love?).

·       Jinn. Rafe is a hot jinni complete with long black braid draped over his powerful chest in Black Diamond Jinn. Amaia, a government witch, is dying. Her last act is to try to save the world from the Mayan Doom.

·       Dual (shifter/warlock). Early 2015 will see the release of the first in a new series, currently titled Alphas Don’t Wear Bows. This paranormal has the same mix of sex, action and humor readers have come to expect from the Biting Love series. Witch princess, alpha wolf shifter, meddling magical aunt. What could possibly go wrong?

·        Big bad wolf. I’ve started work on a PNR/UF world of magical creatures, starring an alpha’s alpha and a little she-wolf—who, as a human, is a strong, independent woman and more than the alpha can handle.

Some are already released, some are in the pipeline, and some are just glints in my eye. But there are plenty more stories waiting to be told!

3T Writing Tidbit - Show, Don't Tell - Without Losing Your Style

I've reached the end of a long day -- working 45 hour weeks and this is my one day off half of which I used to take the cats to the vet. In the other half, I've scheduled two years of 2T Repeat Performances and written four 3T Writing Tidbits, but I need to finish off 2026 for writing tidbits and I'm out of cards and ideas.

So I turned to Chat GPT. Bless you, AI, for giving a tired brain ideas and outlines.

Writers get told things like "show, don't tell." A good idea, but commands from on high, told so often they begin to sound like laws, become so set in stone that if you break them you're going to writerly jail and will be forced to use a 1986 word processor for the rest of your life.

Fortunately, not only is "show don't tell" not a law, sometimes telling is the shortcut your story needs. 

First, what are show and tell? 

• Show. The character experiences it, so the reader experiences it. The reader experiences it, she gets pulled into the story.
• Tell. The character or narrator relates it, so the reader hears about it instead of experiencing it.

Now, when do you use each?

• Show. This is the musical equivalent of an aria or solo. It's for the big emotional scenes. In stories it's also for action scenes where the stakes are high, or where the action resolves inner or outer goals or plot points.
• Tell. This is the dialog in a musical. Transitions, routines. You can also tell when the style of telling helps build character, for example punk rocker Nixie's inner monologue scoping sexy but uptight lawyer Julian "Hawt suit, lotsa skrilla, but daggy." (Hot establishment-guy, rich but unfashionable.)

So how do you show, don't tell, without losing your writing style?

Trick question! It's not showing or telling that's the point, it's using the best tool for keeping your reader immersed in your story. 

Also, while AI is great and getting better every day, you notice how the premise "without losing your style" (Chat GPT used "voice") isn't fulfilled except in the tell portion? 

Published since 2009, over the years I've accumulated various items of writing wisdom. The Third Tuesday Writing Tidbit showcases these items in no particular order. Click here to see all 3T Tidbits.   

2T Repeat Performance - The Ancient One (Not Tilda Swinton)

 

I've done a number of blog tours over the years, posting on different sites. Now I'm bringing them to you!

Originally published February 25, 2014 for My Odd Little World

Thank you to Nancy and My Odd Little World for having me here again!

The Ancient One

Biting Love vampires are powerful, dark creatures. They only get more so as they age. My heroes range from hundreds of years old to thousands, each with their own challenges and strengths. Ric Holiday is turned as a boy of ten in Beauty Bites. He bursts from the soil only to flop in the moonlight like a newborn bird—thank goodness savvy twelve-year-old Aiden is there to help and guide him. Logan Steel, blond hair brushing his broad shoulders, has acquired the insouciant grace of his four hundred years by the time Biting Me Softly takes place. Black-haired black-eyed maestro Dragan Zajicek from new release Downbeat and lawyer Julian Emerson from Biting Nixie are both well over a thousand, and have mastered the advanced vampire fighting technique of shapeshifting. Spartan warrior Nikos wears his several millenniums like sharp-studded armor.

Then there’s the Ancient One.

His voice is deep, dark and cool as a cave. He seems damned near omniscient.

And that’s all we know about him to start.

Gradually through the series we learn more about him. His name is Mr. Elias. He loves to bargain. He has a ward. His first name is Kai. He has a personal history with Nosferatu, the leader of the Coterie. He’s the most dangerous being on the planet.

He’s one of the oldest vampires walking the earth. He’s head of the Iowa Alliance, vampires who live in harmony with humans, treating them as equals (as opposed to the Coterie vamps who would treat humans as blood cattle). Assassin Aiden Blackthorne will say about the Ancient One in Assassins Bite: Strange, when he thought about it. The oldest among them behaved most like he’d kept his humanity.

After six books and three short stories, in Downbeat, we get to meet the Ancient One in the flesh. Acres of hard-muscled flesh. I can’t say much without spoilers, except that this is a scene I’ve been waiting and wanting to write since 2008.

But Elias has been waiting a lot longer :)

Is he a good guy or bad? An anti-hero like Zajicek? Will the Ancient One have his own story or be forever dark and alone?

I’m waiting to tell.

He’s waiting too. Not patiently, but like a volcano, apparently placid, but powerful and seething underneath.

3T Writing Tidbit

 I've written several times (too many, probably) that I'm having issues with Soul Mates, the final book in the Pull of the Moon series. While I'm overcoming them one by one, there's one I don't think I'll be able to solve.

See, while I'm working full time, the closest I get to writing and plotting is reading other authors' books. Many favorites, but I've found a ton of new authors to love, too. And you know what?

Most of them are in first person. 

I'm just not finding third person immediate enough anymore. First person is so much more intimate, more compact. "I tossed her the flashlight. She bobbled it, and I choked back a laugh." vs "She tossed her the flashlight. She bobbled it, and she choked back a laugh. (Nope. You gotta change that to "Alice tossed Betty the flashlight. She bobbled it, and Alice choked back a laugh.)

For some reason, the first person books seem to explore more ideas in a deeper way. 

Better for me to read--and easier for me to write. If I can put myself in the character's head, the words just flow, because she's telling her story. She's telling me her thoughts, her fears, her hopes.

Third person is me telling her story. Great if I need to span more than her point of view, but essentially like experiencing her life through a roll of cotton wadding.

I started the series in third person, specifically for readers who prefer it, so I'll finish it in third person -- even if I have to write it in first and switch it over to do it. 

 What about you? What point of view is your favorite? Any? All? Even second person POV?

Published since 2009, over the years I've accumulated various items of writing wisdom. The Third Tuesday Writing Tidbit showcases these items in no particular order. Click here to see all 3T Tidbits.   

2T Repeat Performance - Do You Hear What I Hear

I've done a number of blog tours over the years, posting on different sites. Now I'm bringing them to you!

Originally published February 6, 2014 for Magical Musings

Do You Hear What I Hear

My thanks to Edie Ramer and Magical Musings for having me here today!

Musicians are like cats—we don’t come when we’re called. In just a bit, I’ll tell you why.

We’re also a tad weird, and not only because, as Pat McCurdy sings in “I’m Artistic”, our clothes are blacker than yours. We’re wired differently.

Picture an mp3 player. See the ear buds? Plug them into your ears—and leave them there. Music on. Forever.

Now you know why we don’t always answer when we’re called, and why some of us float around like we’re in a state with legalized marijuana. We have tunage going through our heads 24/7. All radio, all the time.

The good news is, it makes us interesting authors. Smell, touch, taste. Sensory detail snaps a story to life. We put in lots of aural detail because we’re trained listeners. The foosh of the bazooka, the swish of the air going by on a kick are as natural as the word choice to capture the song that is a Welsh accent.

Speech is a marvel of music. Here’s an excerpt from Biting Nixie:

Bo’s words were a symphony of meaning. Detective had a lilt that told of deep affection. Bo said detective the way another man might have said sweetheart or love.

But the word gang had deep, ominous overtones.

One thing musicians and authors have in common—our aim is to give the audience an emotional ride. Ordinary flutist Rocky toots in an average community orchestra. Then conducting superstar Dragan Zajicek mounts the podium. From Downbeat, coming March 4.

Zajicek lifted his baton. An all-embracing sweep of his black gaze gathered our eyes up to him. We waited, our breath and very hearts in his fine hands, ready to leap to our deaths if he bid it.

 

He gave the downbeat.

 

Normally we crank out the first note of a rehearsal like a car grumbling to life on a sub-zero morning. We putter along well enough once we get going, melody recognizable, harmonies not so much. […]

 

Zajicek pulled music from us. We played better than ever before, better than we knew we could, swept along in a tide of almost perfect music.

Magic. That’s the only word that comes close. From our dross he spun emotional gold using only his fine hands. We responded with everything we had, everything we were.

Thanks for listening!

(Written to the Overture to The Marriage of Figaro, playing in my head while the cat snoozed in the chair next to me. Edited to “I’m Artistic”, which became an earworm that ate out my brains. Luckily, people expect me to be a tad strange.

Striking the right note could shatter more than their hearts.

After an attack that slaughtered his family, vampire Dragan Zajicek walled off his heart and went on a sixteen-hundred-year rampage with the bad boys of history.

Now a rock star of the concert podium and master freelance spy, he’s taken the baton for a small orchestra near Chicago to investigate rumors of a monstrous, undefeatable vampire dubbed the Soul Stealer.

But it’s the lovely, unassuming Raquel “Rocky” Hrbek who mesmerizes him from the first touch of her luscious lips on her flute.

Rocky, a shy shadow scarred by middle school cruelty, is mystified as to why core-meltingly gorgeous Dragan would notice a mouse like her. As his stolen kisses draw her dangerously close to the edge of her carefully constructed comfort zone, he exposes her secret—she’s investigating the monster herself.

As their quest draws them closer together, the monster zeroes in on the woman Dragan’s rebellious heart tells him is his mate. Now they must find a way to destroy the indestructible before Rocky is utterly consumed. And Chicago is bathed in the blood of innocents.

Warning: Contains a master of seduction and symphonies, an awkward and innocent flutist, small-town humor, heart-stopping action, and an exodus to Iowa. Oh, and the cheese balls are ba-a-ack—and deadlier than ever.

 

Enjoy the following excerpt for Downbeat:

“May I accompany you, Ms. Hrbek?”

I jumped and nearly tripped. Zajicek caught my wrist to steady me. His fingers were long and slender but amazingly strong—and fiercely warm. Like iron filings to a magnet, my skin aligned instantly to him. Hot sensation juddered through me, knocking me even more off balance. I scrambled to regain my equilibrium, only to have my feet scud into one of the semi-vertical sidewalk stones. My flute bag slipped off my shoulder and nosedived into the crook of my arm, yanking me sideways. I went down.

Powerful arms wrapped around me and saved me from severe pavement burn. The arms were gentle righting me, and I stood in their comforting embrace a moment to get my breath back. A strong heart beat under my cheek. My palms pressed against warm, crisp cotton. The body under the cotton was a solid, cloth-covered cliff, so unlike my own soft limbs. I shivered.

“Are you all right, Ms. Hrbek?” Zajicek’s deep honeyed tones, tinged with amusement, came from somewhere over my head.

“Huh?” Not the snappiest of rejoinders but I was cheek-to-massive-chest with Dragan Zajicek, the posterboy I’d had the hots for half my life.

He was definitely not pasteboard now. The longer I stood there the more I felt. Every ridge of his taut abdomen, the roped muscles of his long thighs, the poke of his belt buckle; they all became alarmingly three-dimensional. His warm breath stirred my hair. Something else stirred too, at hip level…and silent laughter rippled through him.

My brain churned. The intimate way he held me made no sense, but the laughter, well, my clumsiness had lightened the room on more than one occasion.

Then Zajicek’s long fingers slid under my chin, raising my face. His brilliant eyes were shuttered by slumberous lids. I stared in bemusement as his face expanded in my vision…

His lips found mine.

Warm. Smooth. Exciting. “Some Enchanted Evening” sang through my right brain.

My left brain locked up in utter confusion. A man was kissing me. Zajicek was kissing me. The sum of my kissing experience was a slobbery grandmother and a few rushed awkward sexual encounters. I never really saw what the fuss was about. Until Zajicek.