Foray Into Ghosts

I'll tell you right upfront I do not write paranormals or fantasies. I tend not to read paranormals or fantasies. This does not mean that people who read/write these kind of books aren't fabulously intelligent people, it just means that world building, vampires, werewolves etc. don't do it for me. And yet ... about a year ago I got an idea. From a song actually. Sugarland's Fly Away. One line in particular ...

"I could walk away and leave behind my family or get buried alive in this legacy."

... just hit me the right way and suddenly I had a character in mind with a solid back story and possible scene ideas bubbling up in my brain so fast I couldn't keep up. And of course I was in the car going 50 in a 35 so I couldn't exactly write everything down. Once I got home though, thankfully, most of the things I had thought up were still with me and I quickly jotted down a rough outline. At the time however, I was working on another manuscript and was at a point that pausing, even for a couple of days, to work on something else would have been extremely foolish. Well now that project is out of the way and so now it's time for Enchanted Temptation (the title needs work, but all titles need work).

There's only one problem. The book features a ghost. Yeah. A ghost. I don't do ghosts. I don't know anything about ghosts. OK, that's a lie, I do know all about Casper. And Ghostbusters. But what I don't know is ghosts in romance novels. I've read a few books here and there (especially Christmas anthologies ... always back to Christmas
Anthologies) that have ghosts and a few Halloween related ones too (though I can't think of any right now). But what I really need is a list of books to use as a point of reference. These books should feature ghosts that don't take over the entire story, that are sweet(ish) and are believable. So, in my first attempt to reach out to the readers of this blog (anyone out there?) I have a request ...

What are your recommendations for romance novels that feature ghosts but in which ghosts are not the overriding element to the novel?

Oh, and P.S. my heroine does not get buried alive ... maybe figuratively, but not literally. I'm claustrophobic, I couldn't do that to ANYONE.

P.P.S For your reading pleasure, here is the first paragraph to Enchanted Temptation. Which will change in the final form in one way or another, possibly scrapped completely.

It was happening again. Philippa tore the light sheets from her legs and sprang up from bed. The blasted light bounced twice on her window sill, delighted she was up, and then dropped down into the courtyard. An interesting development since the previous times the little ball of golden-y pink light had stayed in her bedroom. Twice now it had woken her. Glittering and flickering like an almost-gone candle before her eyes, her dreams were soaked in a weird sort of pale gold color before she jerked awake, startled. It would then fly away from her before she could reach a hand to touch it to land on a spot in the room and stay just long enough to force her from bed before disappearing.

The Writer's Heart

In a recent post, Belinda over at Worderella asked:

“… when you write, who do you keep in mind as you write? The characters? Your overarching plot? Your theme? Your reader? Or all of the above?”

As a writer, I think it’s important to keep all these things in mind because they are all tied together with the same bow. The characters you create are defined by the plot and how they react to the events (therefore the theme) that propel them forward. The only thing missing from that equation is the reader. And I believe that was the point of Beilnda’s post. The writer should create plot/characters/theme in the hopes of eliciting a reaction from the reader. But what kind of reaction? Belinda provides that answer:

“ … an author can touch me in such a way that I feel as though my very soul was burned, I’m much more likely to recommend the book to a friend. That is what I strive for, something so…fierce, I suppose, that my reader is scorched, forever changed by my writing.”

TOUCH ME IN SUCH A WAY THAT I FEEL AS THOUGH MY VERY SOUL WAS BURNED.

Whew! That’s a tough task for anyone, not to mention authors who are expected to turn out novel after novel. So how does an author touch the reader? Through emotion. Everyone knows the old adage “write what you know” and I completely agree. Write the emotions you know. And if you don’t know them, get to know them. Talk to people, read articles, read books, watch movies, and put your heart into EVERYTHING you write. Your heart is the single most important tool available to you as a writer. Because if YOU don’t believe in what your characters feel, the reader sure won’t either. Put yourself in your character’s soul (not shoes, soul). When you write, BE your character. Listen to the little nuances of your heart and expand on them, as your character.

Speaking in terms of writing Romance:

Making an impression on the reader doesn’t always mean sadness. Though one of my goals is to write a book that make readers just BAWL through at least one scene (unlike the movie P.S. I Love You in which I sobbed through the entire thing and hated every minute of it … I like to be happy. Most people do). But in the end, leaving the reader with a smile and a warm, fuzzy feeling in their heart and maybe a bit of laughter on their lips is something romance writers should strive for.

I write romance for the happy ending. As I posted in the comments on Belinda’s blog, there is enough emotional smog in the world, shouldn’t we strive to make the world a better place by injecting joy into the lives of others? That is my goal in writing, to make someone happy. Happiness, like tears, comes from the heart. When you write, use your heart and write what you know.

These Are a Few of My Favorite Things ~ 10/10

My Favorite Book: A Silent Ocean Away by Deva Gantt

 

I can't say its my favorite book since I haven't actually read it but I haven't been this excited about a new book in a long time (without previously reading something else by the author). In the 1830s Charmaine Ryan leaves poverty in Virginia behind her for the West Indies to serve as a governess for a prominent family. What follows is a story of intrigue, treachery, romance and family. I believe its the first in a series, out on October 14. 

My Favorite Blog: Another new one, this from Miss Musing. A 20-something blogger feeling her way into the real world. Her voice is youthful and honest and she writes about things I myself have experienced. Her blog is universal. 

My Favorite CD: Randy Rogers Band's self titled CD.

I've been looking forward to new music from RRB since Roller Coaster. Best Song so far - One Woman. Sure, its country (I love country) but RRB has a distinct voice truly deserving of the label of Real Texas Country. Pop in this CD, close your eyes and you'll find yourself on a back porch in the middle of the Texas landscape while Roger's voice, rough and rugged, sweeps around you. 

My Favorite Pop Culture Moment: TBS has renewed My Boys! The Husband loves Jordana Spiro and since I kind of have a girl crush on her myself, it's OK with me. Last season ended as PJ opened the door for Bobby on the eve of his wedding, only to see Bobby's brother, Jack emerging from PJ's bathroom. WHAT WILL BOBBY DO?

My Favorite Buy:

I have a sort of obsession (I have a lot of obsessions) with rubbery duckies. Behold, Pirate and Cow. Available in the baby section at Target. For anyone else out there just like me. 

My Favorite Picture:

Compliments of wikipedia, here's a trio of Maine Coon Cats. I want one. Jack would disown me, but I want one. Look at those ears! They look like they have something to tell you, if you'd only listen closely enough. Can't you imagine a witch with one of these cats? 

Random Acts of Karma

Today I went with some friends to lunch. TGI Fridays is a usual place for us, so there was nothing unusual about lunch. It was afterwards that I tempted the Karma gods and now walk about in fear. Unfortunately I don't feel the need to repent. At least not yet. Right now, I'm still laughing.

Leaving the parking lot of Fridays, I pulled up to the stoplight. To get back to work, I have to cross a major road, some 6 lanes wide. The stoplight is very short so at any given time, only two or three cars are guaranteed a way across this road. It makes for an interesting game of chicken since most people know how finicky the light is and try to race
across before it turns red. So, I swing around into the straight lane and rejoice for no one is in front of me and I know I will make it through the light when it turns. Except ... there is someone there.

A kid.

On a dirt bike.

In the middle of the lane waiting at the light.

Okkkkay. I mean, it's not like it's an adult on a racing bike. No, this kid looks like your typical skater punk and definitely not old enough to be riding his bike around town when he should be in school. Possibly high school. I'm going to say 15, tops. Anyway.

I pull up behind him and his head swivels. He looks concerned, like he hadn't expected anyone to pull up behind him. I look at my friend and we both kind of shrug.

"I'll give you a buck if you tap his back wheel."

I contemplate this. Kiddingly, of course. "Buck fifty."

She sniffs. "I had a soda a lunch. I'm broke. No fun for us."

We both return to looking at the kid, wondering what he'll do. At this point, there is no traffic in either direction for a good distance. So I think maybe he'll attempt to at least cross to the median. Meanwhile, cars are piling up behind me and the guy in my rear view mirror is starting to look anxious. I understand his feeling. I hate being the second car leaving the lot. If the first car is the slightest bit slow, chances are, you're going to get screwed.

"Don't you think he would go?" my friend asks and points to the left and right. No one.

"No idea," I mumble. My foot may have slipped off the brake a little and I creep forward, just as a gentle prodding. He doesn't take the hint.

Then the left turn arrow turns green. The cars next to us go. The car across from us go. He can start to peddle across now. Really, it's only polite.

"Go," I urge and creep a little farther up.

Not only does he ignore me, he WHIPS OUT HIS CELL PHONE AND BEGINS TEXTING.

"He cannot be serious!" my friend shrieks.

I clamp down hard on the break and press the gas pedal a few times, revving up. He continues to text. The car behind me crawls forward. The turn arrow turns yellow, then red and our light turns green. The kid doesn't look up because HE IS STILL TEXTING

That's it, I think and lay on the horn. The kid's arms fly up in the air. His baseball cap slips a little on his head and he almost loses control of the bike and his stupid cell phone. I wish he dropped it. Instead he starts pedaling as fast as his short, scrawny legs can go. And yet, he is not even halfway through the intersection. I creep out behind him, my hand hovering over the horn. I really want to honk again but refrain. Beside me, my friend is laughing so hard tears are starting to come out. I make it through the intersection just as the light turns yellow. The kid is now beside me, head bent, afraid to look at me. He looks up, his feet slid off the pedals and the bike skids a little but he quickly regains his balance.

Through the intersection, my friend turns to me. "You just went up a level in my book of awesomeness."

I check out the kid in the rear view. His face is red. "Thanks," I say, "that means a lot."

And then we start laughing again and don't stop until I get to my desk to write this all down.

I should feel bad. I mean, he's just a kid. And he almost fell. But he was dumb. So I don't. And that's why Karma is out to get me. We all do stupid things and the rest of us should practice tolerance. But patience has never been my strongest character trait. Karma and car horns don't mix. I think I'm next. 

This Girl Recommends - The Rustler (Linda Lael Miller)

The Rustler by Linda Lael Miller

I have a self-acknowledge obsession with Western Romance Novels. In the previous years, the amount of WRNs available has dropped to a depressingly low number but I THINK we are starting to see a rise (fingers crossed).

But I can always count on Linda Lael Miller (and forgive her for straying into contemporary territory – which I also enjoy – as long as she comes back to the West). And once again, she has not disappointed. The Rustler opens as Wyatt Yarbro contemplates a herd of cattle and the gang of outlaws he’s recently joined up with. Does he REALLY want to rustle these steers? Before he can make a true decision, lightening strikes (literally!) and his life is forever changed. Wyatt comes to Stone Creek at the invitation of his brother Rowdy …

(let’s pause for a moment and ponder the name Rowdy … Rowdy? Really? It’s not the WORST name in the history of WRN but it’s pretty close. I propose a petition to put an end to all really horrible/overused names for romance heroes. Rafe must go – Chance too. Maverick. I could go on, but that would be boring and possibly damaging to the eyes.)

… Where was I? Right. So Wyatt comes to Stone Creek in the middle of a religious revival. Who should he see pounding away at the organ but Sarah Tamlin. And he just knows, she is the one. A great strength of Miller’s? The connection she establishes between her characters right away.

Miss Tamlin, daughter to a banker, isn’t all sweetness and light either, something Wyatt is just fine with. She has secrets (which she writes down in a little book and keeps it with her at all times) – namely an illigetimate son with a prominent Philadelphia businessman. Enter THE BAD GUY – Charles Langstreet rides into town on the noon train bringing Sarah’s boy, Owen with him and a whole list of things to accomplish. What ensues is a fast-paced novel with deeply drawn characters (Sarah’s father Ephriam, Doc, Kitty Steel) who really get you to FEEL their pain and understand their decisions.

Things I Liked:

• The Rustler has an interesting premise as Miller takes on a reformed outlaw. She doesn’t make excuses for Wyatt. The things he did were bad and he was punished for them. But then again, she doesn’t delve too deep. A perfect combination. I was able to like him and believe he wanted to change.
• Wyatt makes his feelings for Sarah known from the very beginning. He does not shrink from his past, he’s straight up honest – a perfect contrast to Sarah’s need to lie about everything.
• The novel is a very fast read but Miller doesn’t skimp on the emotional details. With the weavings of an experienced writer, she manages to combine action and emotion into one compact story.
• Owen – romance writers have a tendency to fall into the “children trap” as I like to call it and make kids in the story WAAAAAAY too sweet and lovable. Owen was sweet and lovable but there was not an overdose of the perfect child syndrome. And Wyatt’s reaction to Owen (“I wish he were my boy”) added another layer of contentment for me.
• I felt as though the majority of the novel was told from Wyatt’s point of view which is a nice change of pace.

Things I Disliked:

• The booked ended abruptly, I felt as though it were rushed.
• I just KNEW what was going to happen to Charles as soon as the book started rushing toward the end.
• There were some cliches but I can overlook those in light of such a good read.

Facts:

Released ~ Oct 1, 2008

Price ~ $7.99

Series ~ Stone Creek Series also includes The Man From Stone Creek, A Wanted Man, A Stone Creek Christmas (available December 1, 2008)

Favorite Linda Lael Miller Book: McKettrick's Choice

Big Red at Walgreens

I was in Walgreens today returning one of the packs of gel heel liners I bought (I’ve am over-buyer. You need 3? I buy 5. It’s a problem).First I went to the slightly intelligent looking kid in checkout #1. This was a mistake.

“Duuuur, errr… I think Betty can help you,” he stuttered, pointing to Betty.

Betty did not smile. Betty rolled her eyes. “Go to photo,” she barked. “And someone will be with you.”

I swear she muttered “maybe” under her breath but I’m probably just projecting. So I wander over to photo and Betty picks up the intercom and calls for the manager. At least, I think she calls for the manager. I can’t really understand her sixty year-old smoker’s voice. At photo the girl actually smiles at me.

“Manager will be right out,” Photo Girl said and returned to sorting photos.

I can’t help but wonder how often she comes across inappropriate photos. Every time I pick up one hour, I think about Birdie in Hope Floats and how the manager of the one hour photo booth had a special drawer where duplicates of dirty photos were kept. I bet Walgreens has a drawer like that. So there I am, just waiting around and thinking innocently of what kind of pictures are deemed worthy enough to put in that mythical drawer when a woman in her mid-thirties comes barreling up to the desk. Her hair is an unnatural shade of vivid red and sticking up in curly corkscrews all over her head. A row of silver and gold colored bracelets jangle on her wrists with a plastic-like clink

“Yes, ma’am?” Photo Girls asks, every so politely.

Red shoves a box at Photo Girl. “Is this considered a disposable camera? I’ve never seen one used before.”

I look at the box. Photo Girl looks at the box. Inside are two disposable cameras. Which the box clearly states.

“Yes, ma’am, they sure are.” Photo Girl smiles and tries not to look at me. I study the candy display in front of me intently.

Red waves the box around, jiggling the cameras inside. “How do I use ‘em?”

The Junior Mints box I’m looking at is getting blurry because I’m trying to focus too hard. If I look at Photo Girl, I’m going to laugh. I can’t resist a peek. Red is leaning over the desk now, eyes boring into Photo Girl. Photo Girl is trying to keep her eyes on Red’s face but Red’s tank top has stretched to the max and at any second her goodies are going to spill all over the counter.

Photo Girl scratches at her neck and focuses at a point over Red’s curls. “Just point and click.” 

“All right then.” Red eases off the counter, pushes back her bracelets and turns the box over in her hands. The strap on her tank slips off one shoulder. She ignores it. “And then what? There aren’t any directions.”

I’ve given up on the Junior Mints box completely and look at Red. She’s uber confused as she squints at the box.

Photo Girl, bless her patience, takes the cameras gently from Red. “You just bring them back here, camera and all after you’ve taken the pictures and we’ll develop them for you.”

“Huh.” Red finally snaps her tank top strap into place and reaches for the cameras which Photo Girls hands over, still studying the point over Red’s head. Meanwhile I am in near convulsions and my bladder is starting to hurt. My eyes are actually watering.

“It’s so simple,” Red marvels.

Photo Girl nods. Then she hesitates, as though she is not sure she should offer up this next bit of information. I’m all for hesitating. I don’t think Red can handle any more “simpleness”. Nor can I for that matter. But Photo Girl shrugs and plows on.  “When we develop them for you, we can put them on a CD so you can upload them to your computer.”

A line appears between Red’s eyes. “Wow. Really?”

“For $2.99.”

Red’s face wobbles a bit. “Oh. That’s not part of the development, huh?”

“No, ma’am.” Photo Girls shakes her head regretfully.

“That would be really cool. Darrell would love it. Darrell loves to take photos.” Red pushes out her lower lip and then brightens. “S’alright, I don’t have a computer anyway. Thanks!” And she walks away. Photo Girl and I stare after her. She bumps into a candy display and drops the cameras. “Shhhhhhhhh-it.”

Photo Girl looks at me. “I agree,” she mumbles and turns on heel for the backroom just as the manager approaches. He rings up my exchange without a smile or word. I’m ok with this. I think I’ve heard it all now anyway. And I wonder … what would Red think of a digital camera? I think she and Darrell would have a lot of fun with a digital camera. And I bet Photo Girl is going to get some interesting photos for that drawer.