Category: Writing Romance

Chewing the Cud, Farm and Family Life, Writing Romance

Training (or taming?) my Dragon

by Sam RussellLeave a Comment on Training (or taming?) my Dragon
Training (or taming?) my Dragon

I’ve had a very productive month. Not on here – you’ll know that, if you follow my blog regularly (or should that be irregularly?) The blog has suffered from my rush of productivity, but the FINAL DRAFT of A Bed of Brambles has at last been dispatched to my editor! At least, I’m calling it the final draft… she may think otherwise.

It’s a relief and a delight, to get rid of the words I’ve been hunched over for the last six months. Rather like handing your homework in, and knowing you’ve done a good job, because the book is so much better for the editing. All the same, I’ve become rather jaded with re-reading, and re-writing.  We needed this space; me, Hettie and Alexander, so that we can learn to love each other again. And my apologies to all those readers who’ve been clamouring for the second book and would rush at the chance to read more about Hettie and Alexander. I’ve been keeping you on tenterhooks for far too long, but we are getting there now – really!

With the chasm of time that losing the book freed up, I motored through the farm’s end of year accounts. Numbers are so much more obedient than words, aren’t they? The numbers are either right, or they’re wrong; no shades of grey here (pun intended).  And at last I got around to submitting new plans for the barn we’re hoping to convert on the farm. It’s all go on the land. The combine is rolling, harvest is on us again: long days, weary men and an endless supply of refreshment to be produced from the farmhouse kitchen.

As I write, the sun is shining, a siren call away from my desk and the four walls of my office, but book three is calling too… It’s a habit, this bloody writing, that is hard to resist. So, I got to thinking, why can’t I have both? Outside, moving and writing a book. Uh oh.

I’m a devil for coming up with ideas which swallow hours of time when I find myself with ten minutes spare. And I’ve already learnt that Dragon dictation is going be one of those. Hours already spent learning how to work it, and I haven’t written a word yet (can you still call it writing if you’re actually speaking?) Oh well, I don’t have to worry about that yet, because so far my Dragon hasn’t listened to a single word I’ve said. No, I tell a lie! As I’m typing here Dragon has just opened the dictation box I asked it to open forty minutes ago. And this is meant to increase your word count?

I’ll let you know how I get on, but don’t hold your breath… I’m busy, taming my Dragon. I think we’ll both be spitting fire by next week.

Inspiration, Writing Romance

The Lake District – rustic romance to inspire

by Sam Russell2 Comments on The Lake District – rustic romance to inspire
The Lake District – rustic romance to inspire

DSC_0296DSC_0297I’m blown away by the rustic romance of Cumbria this week. Even the barns are enchanting, and then there are the hills, the rocks and the lakes; forests and waterfalls. There are lambs in the fields (and on the narrow lane to our cottage); calves with doe eyes grazing behind dry stone walls. The foxgloves in bloom, poking pink flowers through bright green fern…

border-collie-191776_1920Catch your breath in amazement stuff around every corner. And I’m inspired. Land Rovers and collie dogs working for their living. Farmhouses and cottages, keeping centuries of stories behind stone walls. And a countryside so rugged that just getting by must be a challenge for the people who live there after the tourists have gone home. When the rain pours off the mountains and the lakes overflow, or the roads are blocked by snow drift. When swift cloud engulfs the rocky hills and valleys to leave you isolated in a world of mist.

landrover cumbriaAcross the field from our holiday home stood our nearest neighbour; a white-washed stone cottage with a grey slate roof and a wooden gate to the front. The red Mini Cooper outside, with it’s personalised number plate, tells me that this must be Hayley’s house. There’s no sign of children, so I’ve decided that Hayley is in her mid twenties. And she lives alone, because the house is empty when Hayley has gone to work. No regular visitors either, but one irregular one: Late in the evening a Land Rover parks beside the red Mini. It’s gone before dawn. A proper working vehicle, this, with winches, and muddy tyres. Long wheel based and laden with gear. No personalised number plate to help me out here, but I’m going to say that this Landy is driven by a man who works on the land. A farmer or a gamekeeper, maybe even a vet. Occupations which might explain why he turns up so late and is gone so early. Or could it be that there’s an altogether different story unfolding in that cottage…

Hmmm. I think I can feel a Cumbrian rustic romance coming on.

Inspiration, Writing Romance

Mood setting – painting a picture in words #amwriting #amediting

by Sam RussellLeave a Comment on Mood setting – painting a picture in words #amwriting #amediting
Mood setting – painting a picture in words #amwriting #amediting

As writers, we have a rich selection of words we can use to set a mood; an emotion; a moment. The art of good writing (and the joy of good reading) takes us right in to a time and and a place – and sets the mood of the moment – without telling us.

There’s a scene in the novel I’m editing (A Bed of Brambles – the sequel to A Bed of Barley Straw) where the hero (Alexander) is sitting above cliffs, recovering from the hurt of an emotional upset, and being soothed by the landscape around him. So, that’s me telling you what’s happening.

Amidst her pleas of “Show us!” My editor queried my choice of words in this scene – “would he be calmed by the waves crashing against the rocks?”

Good point; crashing and rocks are hard, angry words. How about “calmed by the waves washing across the pebbles on the beach?”

Here’s one picture of the landscape, similar to that which I’m seeing when I’m writing the scene:

Angry Anglesey coast

It is angry isn’t it? The waves are crashing against the rocks. It’s moody, and melancholy; in turmoil. Blacks and greys and an unsettled sea – all very Poldark! Passionate, oh Lord, there’s all sorts of angsty words I could use (and a risk of becoming clichéd)

Here it is in sunnier mood:

Sunny Anglesey-coast

Now I’m uplifted. The sun warming the cliff-face, ripples on the grey-green water… and I could talk about the clouds, but I mustn’t overdo it. I’m falling into that cliché trap again (frothy and fluffy, the ocean tumbling over the rocks).

The same coastline, different angle – let’s do serene:

serene Anglesey coast

I’ll let you chose your own words, I’m not sure Alexander is ever quite this peaceful, still, enticing. Oh, hang on, he is enticing, just not in such a clean way 😉

It’s a maze and a labyrinth, feeling your way to the right words. And that’s before I’ve even told you how he’s sitting on the bench… Is he leaning forward with his head in his hands? Is he lounging back against the salt-bleached wood with his long legs stretched out in front of him…

It’s a mood, a moment in the novel. It’s why editing fries your brain.

 

Writing Romance

Springing into March, and still editing

by Sam RussellLeave a Comment on Springing into March, and still editing
Springing into March, and still editing

So, I’m still editing, although I had hoped to be launching A Bed of Brambles about now; a year after A Bed of Barley Straw hit the shelves. Ho hum, it’s got to be right. Deadlines and launch dates are secondary to the life of the story, so I’m letting myself off the hook. But I’m still working hard, setting deadlines, but avoiding naming a launch date yet.

I’m editing on the sofa, because the new hip complains if I spend too many hours at a desk. Painting scenes with my pen (keyboard actually, but pen sounds more poetic), creating characters for you to meet, hoping you love them enough to want to dive in. Telling stories to make you laugh, gasp, cry (and get a bit hot under the collar). That’s important stuff. I sweat over the detail so you can be swept along, without being tripped up by disbelief, clumsy words, wonky timelines… That’s the hope, anyway.

I’ve got an editing mate with me, he’s just chillin’ in the warm.

Disney on the sofa

By coincidence, in Chapter 25B (rewritten/edited from chapter 25draft1, 25draft2, 25A), the chapter I’m currently working on, they are heading into March at Draymere Hall too. They’ve had snow, (so we’re doing better in the real world), Alexander is lambing, and Hettie… well, I won’t tell you what Hettie is up to, three quarters of the way through the book, but here’s a sneaky scene setting excerpt…

Hettie was at her mother’s old house, to clear out her bedroom. She’d been putting the job off for weeks, but the ‘for sale’ sign was up now, she really couldn’t delay it any longer. She found the key in the usual place; third flowerpot from the left under the larder window. Easy to find in daylight hours, she remembered it being more of a challenge in the days when she had stumbled home in the dark, from whichever pub her and her mates had spent the evening in. Her mum’s absence was obvious, even in the garden. The paths hadn’t been cleared of snow, shrubs bent underneath it. Hettie shivered. She had to give the door a shove to make it open. Empty room, squares on the walls where pictures had hung, undressed windows. Swept and hoovered of course, but the house looked sad and worn out. Someone would buy it as a renovation project. Hettie wandered through the rooms, reached her old bedroom. The furniture gone, most of it to the bungalow, but the floor stacked with boxes; old clothes, school books and knickknacks. It could probably all go straight in the bin. She sat on the floor, cleared space around herself for three heaps; rubbish, charity, keep, and got to work.

At the bottom of the last box she found her old diary; pink and grey stripes, broken padlock, dog-eared cover. “HETTIE’S DIARY – KEEP OUT!!!” She threw it on the rubbish pile, scooped the heap into an empty crate, picked the diary out again and shoved it into her shoulder bag. It was cold in the house, and the dogs would be wanting their dinner. Hettie carted the boxes down to the Landy, wrenched the back door shut. Slid the key into its hiding place; third flowerpot from the left, under the larder window.

… A Bed of Brambles, coming soon, I promise.Blank white book w/pathps If you haven’t read the first one yet, it’s free on Kindle at the moment.

Writing Romance

Writing romantic bad boys

by Sam Russell8 Comments on Writing romantic bad boys
Writing romantic bad boys

Rogues and scoundrels, womanisers, damaged souls. Tall, dark and brooding… there are almost as many clichés to describe our romantic bad boys as there are bad boys in fiction.

And it’s a conundrum isn’t it? That characters in stories can get away with murder (literally, or should that be literarily) and yet still win our love.

heathcliff

From Heathcliff to Rochester, Rupert Campbell-Black to Christian Grey; romantic bad boys have drawn us in since stories began. Personal tolerances vary, but if you have loved fiction, film or theatre I’d be willing to bet that you have loved a bad boy too.

rochester 3

“Mad, bad and dangerous to know” these guys are not always easy to love. They’re not easy to master as characters either. Writing a bastard is simple, asking readers to fall in love with him…not so much. Clearly it can be done, and when done well the lovable bad boy is a wondrous thing. The fictional scoundrel can be gloriously addictive, and its an addiction which you don’t even need to feel guilty about.

RCB

There are degrees of badness; from the endearing Lothario through to the downright criminal badass. If the writing is good enough there are few  ‘crimes’ that cannot be forgiven.  But therein lies the rub of characterisation; a badly written bad-boy can easily become just a nasty bastard. No one loves a nasty bastard.

christian grey

There aren’t any rules, but I’ve got some thoughts on writing that most elusive of creatures – that frustrating, unattainable but heart-breakingly desirable hero, the romantic rogue who will carry us away on a carpet of magical fantasy.

  • The scale of the sins or crimes: It would be a brave (or foolish) writer who asked their hero to commit the unforgivable. There are acts which shouldn’t be forgiven lightly, and they don’t belong in romance.
  • Physical beauty:  With romance it’s all about the desire, and if you’re already dealing with emotional flaws a flawed appearance would add a layer of challenge to the writing. I’d read it though. If you’re up to this please write it.
  • Why are they bad? Be it history, trauma, betrayal or misfortune, do make the reasons for their behaviour believable, and adequate excuse for their misdemeanours. I recently read (part of) a series where it was revealed late on (after much hinting and allusion that our hero was justified in behaving like a royal wanker) that his sins were due to a virus he’d caught or somesuch nonsense. I’m still miffed about that.
  • The good, the bad and the ugly; There must be redeeming characteristics – sufficient to match the ‘bad’. And the reader has to know about them. We’ll forgive his dark brooding if we know in our hearts that he’d jump in a freezing lake to save our drowning puppy.
  • Can he be saved? Well as writers we must have hope! And mainly we hope that despite our rogue’s bad behaviour, our readers will really want to save him. He may be bad, but he’s got to be good enough to deserve his happy ever after.

I’d love to hear about your favourite fictional bad boys, or if you’re writing one yourself let me know how you go about developing their character.

Self-publishing, Writing Romance

When you can’t see the wood for the trees

by Sam RussellLeave a Comment on When you can’t see the wood for the trees
When you can’t see the wood for the trees

I am editing. Argh!

I’m deep in the thicket, with 100k words between me and the timber of my finished novel, and every one of them has to be tested to earn its place in the manuscript.

Do my characters have, well, character? Is the plot believable? Am I consistent with point of view? Have my scenes got structure and motivation. Shit…am I actually writing scenes at all?

If you thought that writing a novel was hard, try a substantive edit. I believe I could knock off 20k words in the time it takes to edit a paragraph (10k of those words will be cut later of course). I’m learning on the job, and I figure I always will be. There may be writers out there who find it a piece of cake (cliché) easy, and wield their cutting pen with stern, orderly (adjective+adverb) precision. Who get that perfect story arc and place their reactions/dilemmas with pin-point (you work it out) accuracy within it.

I’m not one of them (she sobbed, wept, cried, sighed SAID!). This is damn hard work, and right now I really can’t see the wood for the trees (yet another cliché slipped in there).

dialogue tagShow don't tellDogs point of view

But it’s also exciting. I’m writing, I’m learning, and learning is good isn’t it?

I’m off to find the path through this forest now.

Self-publishing, Writing Romance

Improper use of the English language

by Sam RussellLeave a Comment on Improper use of the English language
Improper use of the English language

Too long since my last post here, because my head is firmly wedged into editing which I find can be even more all consuming than the actual writing is. Third pass on the draft manuscript and I may be changing the same words backwards and forwards but I’m also still finding typos. How do they hide so craftily? I changed the font style and size for this read through, and found five obvious errors in the first couple of paragraphs. Incredible given the number of times I have already read it, and scary to think how many more I might (will) be missing.

The error rate decreased as I moved on through the manuscript,  but this could simply be the result of my anticipatory brain adjusting to the new font. Should I change the font every two paragraphs? Phew! I ought to read it on an e-reader next, but I’ve already forgotten the formatting skills which would allow me to covert the Word document. I do remember that it took me a bloody long time to learn those skills the first time around.

Of course I wrote the words, so I know what they’re going to say. And that provides the eye to brain translator with a very efficient ‘ignore and correct’ reflex which is nigh on impossible to override. That’s my psuedo-science excuse anyway. Unfortunately the reflex doesn’t work on the reader who doesn’t know what’s coming next. I know this because as a reader myself typos and errors in other’s books are glaringly obvious (although I don’t scoff at them quite as much now as I once might have done, nervous empathy stops me.)

Note to self; first draft may be a brain dump, but next time at least try to brain dump with grammar.

It will actually be a huge relief to pass the manuscript on the professionals. The editors, beta readers and proofreaders who know what they’re doing. Me, I really just like telling stories. Having said that I know that I will be protective of my work, and overly defensive about any suggested changes. Foolish, because I loved how the editing shaped and sharpened A Bed of Barley Straw, taking my jumbles of impassioned phrases and tightening them up to form a proper (or should that be improper) novel.

I’m really excited about the cover design for the new book, which is looking gorgeous. (Reveal shortly!) Having a cover makes me believe that the book is actually going to happen (in a way that writing 100k words strangely didn’t.)

Oh the vagaries of the human mind. If there are any typos or grammatical errors in this post, kindly forgive them. I am all edited out (and I know that’s not proper use of the English language.)

Self-publishing, Writing Romance

Crazy September and Blurb Take Two

by Sam Russell2 Comments on Crazy September and Blurb Take Two
Crazy September and Blurb Take Two

Harvest is over, the kids are back at school, and the world gets back from their holidays ready to hit autumn with refreshed vim and vigour.

September has been a crazy month for me so far. Ending the year’s farming accounts, FINISHING THE FIRST DRAFT OF MY MANUSCRIPT FOR BOOK TWO, and moving on to the hard miles; edits, rewrites, loose ends. Covers to be designed (two of them because A Bed of Barley Straw is also getting a makeover), ISBNs to be purchased and allocated. Tag lines, blurbs, synopsis (the latter of which I think should have been written before the novel, but hey I’m still a rookie accidental rebel). Formatting, uploads and tracked changes lurk ominously in my future, with the threat of highlighting all the skills I have forgotten since writing book one.

Today I’m working on the blurbs for both of my books, and I would love to hear your thoughts.

Do the words catch your interest and draw you in? Do they leave you wanting to know more? Leave a comment or email me – writersamrussell@gmail.com (You can also drop me a line there if you would like to be added to my email list for updates on the release).

Here’s where I’m at…all critiques welcome (steady GG)

A BED OF BARLEY STRAW

You can bury the past, but can you ever forget it? Hettie Redfern has no time for men, other than for the most basic of needs. She has learnt from experience that her career is more rewarding, that horses are more trustworthy and her are dogs easier to love.

 So when Alexander Melton returns to Draymere Hall, where Hettie manages the stables, she quickly works out that despite his drop-dead good looks, his arrogance and manners leave a lot to be desired. Unfortunately, that isn’t enough to stop Hettie desiring him.

 Proud, judgemental, downright rude at times, Alexander uses women for his own careless pleasure and rarely gives them a second thought. So how has Hettie Redfern got under his skin? A dangerous and idiotic obsession, given her reputation.

A clash of characters, a physical attraction too strong to resist. History unravelling in a perfect storm of frustrated passion.

 

THE SEQUEL

(There is a working title but you’re not getting it yet. I do learn from some of my mistakes)

Hettie and Alexander are back at Draymere Hall, and it was never going to be a conventional love story, no hearts and flowers here.

Proud, passionate, wilful; they are alike in so many ways. That has to be a good thing doesn’t it? Or it could be very bad…they both carry scars, and old wounds have a habit of bringing new pain.

 Their bodies know what they want, and that attraction pulls them together. Hearts and minds can be thorny, less easy to satisfy. One thing is certain, together or apart their lives will move on. Alexander and Hettie’s clashes of passion and spirit will only be part of the story. 

New beginnings which give you the chance to make things right. Or the chance to make the same mistakes all over again.

Thank you for reading.

Writing Romance

We’re all romantic fools at heart…

by Sam RussellLeave a Comment on We’re all romantic fools at heart…
We’re all romantic fools at heart…

As a writer of contemporary romance with a novel to sell I am clear about my target market.  Now I’m not a fan of pigeon holes. Or of sweeping judgements which attempt to predict character by demographic. But having issued that disclaimer, please bear with me as I litter this post with offensive generalisation. It’s the grubby truth of marketing, and I accept that having a criteria on which to base your marketing efforts does make sense.

To ensure the best response to my own marketing, I carefully researched my target audience. Ok, that’s a lie. I gave it my best guess. I mean we’re talking contemporary romance. How hard can it be? Young women of average intelligence education. We all know that it’s the dreamy lasses who want to read about gorgeous hunks – men who will love them completely, and whose hearts they will mend. Passion, adoration (and a soupçon of scorching-but-meaningful rumpy-pumpy). The cynical mid-lifers (of which I am one, which should have told me something as I am writing this stuff) have been there, done that and thrown away the t-shirt. Some have nurtured ill will against romance ever since the departure of husband number three. And the highly educated know enough to understand that it’s all a load of fanciful tosh, they are busy improving their literary minds with important books.

The elderly? Please. You need to ask? As for men, well we all know that their perfect relationship is straight-forward (willing woman – leg over – meat pie for dinner. Depart to watch the match). If the match is showing widescreen at the pub, we have our happy-every-after. I warned you that this would be offensive.

If you are ranting at me right now, please take some solace in knowing that I now understand the folly of these collective ‘isms’. They are wrong, wrong and wrong again. We are indeed all romantic fools at heart. Take if you will as an example, the lovely letter I received this week from a farmer. A man who I happen to know is the wrong side of 60 (strike that, let’s make it the right side of 60!) He qualified his letter with the fact that he wasn’t much of a book reader, preferring the Farmer’s Weekly. He reads, he tells me, one book a year, on his holiday. He usually chooses a romance (did you see that coming? If not – shame on you.) That letter made my week. And there is the card I received in the post from an octogenarian. The photographs sent to me of my book in exotic locations, despatched by a woman who holds rank in City banking. The builder I met in Tesco who apologised for having not read my novel yet. I countered his apology with one of my own; “It’s not everyone’s cup of tea, what do you usually read?”  His reply – “Mills & Boon.” I misjudged, again.

One of my closest friends is on husband number three. I realise now that this fact alone is a credit to her faith in true love. Isn’t that really the message of every romance? And she’s read the book three times. Happy endings, I find, can bring a tear to the most hardened of eyes. Boo sucks demographic. You don’t know us at all.

Writing Romance

Sequential absorption – If you’re looking for me I’m in Draymere

by Sam Russell1 Comment on Sequential absorption – If you’re looking for me I’m in Draymere
Sequential absorption – If you’re looking for me I’m in Draymere

I can’t deny that when I started the sequel to my debut novel I was full of trepidation. A Bed of Barley Straw just happened, all by itself. The story ran from my subconscious straight onto the page. It was an experiment, if you like, a challenge to my psyche: “you keep saying you’ve got a book in you” (that’s my psyche talking, I didn’t say it out loud) “about time you bloody well proved it.”

So I did. And I won (yay, one-nil to me!)

But now I’ve got to make it two-nil, although I’m not sure my psyche ever said “actually, you’ve got two.” What if I didn’t have? What if my debut was also my finale? So many excited requests for the next book…thrilling, wonderful feedback, but can I perform twice?

The start of a sequel is problematic and frustrating. I found that as a reader, and I am finding the same as a writer. It isn’t enough to assume that everyone has read the first book (and unlike a series, A Bed of Barley Straw is a stand-alone book). Book two picks up the story where book one ended. Saga-esque (but over too short a time frame to justify calling it the Draymere Saga, much as I like the ring of that).

Inevitably, readers must be re-introduced to the characters and settings. If you haven’t read the first book or if you read it a long time ago (apologies feedbackers – I’m going as fast as I can), I can’t bombard you with character names and places without, at the very least, a hint to their history as contained in book one. Perversely, when I am reading a sequel (especially if I am reading it soon after the preceding book) I find my mind frequently shouting “I know all that!” Don’t waste my time with flashback and re-introduction. I want the nitty gritty.

So, a conundrum and a balance to be struck. A gentle reminder here and there, a drop of reminiscence. Ideally cleared up in the first few chapters so we can all get down to the nitty gritty.  And a good editor please, to tell me if I have succeeded.

I’m delighted to say I am now in the thick of the gritty in book two. Happily the psyche, when it eventually stopped sulking, willingly poured forth a brand new story, complete with plot-twists and turns. Some of the events have even surprised me. And I thought I knew my characters better than that.

Maybe I know them too well. Like an addictive alter-ego computer game, the characters and settings threaten to become more real than my actual life. I am not ‘in the present’, I am in Draymere.

Spirited discussions with The Farmer have erupted from that old cherry – ‘who said what’.  You know the bugger:

“I told you…”, “we agreed…”, “we talked about this only yesterday…”

The most recent spirited discussion ended when The Farmer announced heatedly that he was going to start recording our conversations. Now I am not saying that he is right and I am wrong, but shortly after that encounter I called his brother Alexander. Close, both names begin with A.

I have hidden all recording devices in our house and I’m heading off to Draymere. To find out what exactly Alexander is up to now.