Vision
I love all things that pass: their briefness is
Music that fades on transient silences.
Winds, birds, and glittering leaves that flare and fall—
They fling delight across the world; they call
To rhythmic-flashing limbs that rove and race…
A moment in the dawn for Youth’s lit face;
A moment’s passion, closing on the cry–
‘O Beauty, born of lovely things that die!’
–Siegfried Sassoon
In the Ambulance
“Two rows of cabbages,
Two of curly-greens,
Two rows of early peas,
Two of kidney-beans.”
That’s what he is muttering
Making such a song,
Keeping other chaps awake,
The whole night long.
Both his legs are shot away,
And his head is light;
So he keeps on muttering
All the blessed night:
“Two rows of cabbages,
Two of curly-greens,
Two rows of early peas,
Two of kidney-beans.”
–Wilfrid Wilson Gibson
I recently heard about an article which talked about paragraphing in terms of anchoring and hooking. I didn’t find the article, but this is how I would use those terms.
At the beginning of a scene, even if you haven’t shifted locations or times, you have to set that scene in the first sentence or paragraph. Think of it like an establishing shot in a movie. The camera shows the place, lighting which indicates whether it’s day or night, who’s in the room. Clutching his greatcoat around him against the November chill, Weston weaved his way among wagons with chocked wheels, tents, campfires, pitiful attempts at vegetable gardens, coppers of boiling water.
Or Three weeks later, Imena straightened her embroidered turquoise dress coat and brushed off the matching silk trousers as she emerged onto the deck of her ship, Seaflower. It’s okay to just say “Three weeks later” and tell the reader Imena is on her ship.
You can also anchor a paragraph with an opening sentence that’s a little hook if that works: Imena wasn’t able to enjoy her soak in the baths. Well, why not?
Hooking is, basically, ending a sentence or paragraph or scene with a mystery. The “mystery” can be something that’s a tiny bit confusing to the reader, but just enough so to make them want to know more. A contradiction of some kind also works. I don’t go out of my way to do this for every paragraph; sometimes it’s best to just end the paragraph in an organized way, so you can go on with the scene:
She stormed into her cabin and swiftly divested herself of her turquoise finery, tossing it onto her wide bunk.
“No, sir! You’ll crush it!”
A more traditional hook to end a paragraph and make the reader want to keep reading might be: The gentle sway beneath his feet was not a ship docked, or even a ship at anchor, but one in motion, fleeing before the wind and propelled by a good tide.
Finally, you have to consider prose rhythm. Sometimes you need a paragraph or scene to end with finality, to emphasize or to make the reader stop and think: She wasn’t his, much as he wished she could be.
The cover of The Moonlight Mistress is featured on Naked Romance this week, with some of my thoughts on it as well.
And now back to my RWA 2010 report!
Friday was my busiest day. I attended the awards lunch and cheered for the Librarian of the Year Jennifer Lohmann and for the Veritas Award recipient, Gwenda Bond. I then spent some quality time in the bar with Gwenda; her husband, writer Christopher Rowe; and YA author Diana Peterfreund. We talked genre and book covers and markets. It was nice to be back in the science fiction/fantasy world for a little while; I’m more at home there than in romance, because I’ve “lived” there longer.
In late afternoon, I attended a reception for Harlequin’s Single Title authors and finally got to meet one of the Mira staff who’d been exceedingly helpful to me for a long time. I also met Susan Anderson briefly, as well as Courtney Milan (it took me a little while to realize we’d never met in person, only online!) and Kathryn Smith, and got to see Victoria Dahl for the first time at the conference. And a bunch of other people as well.
I then returned to my room to dress for that evening’s big bash, the Harlequin Party at the Waldorf Astoria. On the right you will see the signature cocktail of the evening, the “Harleqin Heartbreaker,” or rather what’s left of one!
The space this year was much smaller than usual, but the dancing was just as enthusiastic; they’ve had the same DJ for all three years I’ve been attending, and he really knows how to get people out (“It’s Raining Men,” for example, is popular for more than one reason). I danced, took photos, and ate pretty sugary things including ice cream lollipops and caramel apple and lemon ice. Below is a section of the pretty, pretty chocolate log, decorated with candy leaves and insects.
All parties must eventually end, and a group of us left after midnight, trudging out behind a group including Nora Roberts. For the record, we did not steal their cab. They had a limo waiting.
Back in my room, I realized belatedly that I needed to take off my eye makeup again (it was different from what I’d worn earlier in the day). But I was good and did that. Then I slept. Packing could wait until the morning.
I was really glad to get home on Saturday night. I spent all of Sunday lolling about reading and napping. I’ll be ready for next year…in about eleven months or so.
At last, my report on the 2010 Romance Writers of America Annual Conference! Scroll down or click the “RWA” tag for more posts and lots of photos. That picture on the left is one of the pretty floor mosaics at the Orlando Airport.
I arrived Wednesday afternoon. I unfortunately had woken up way too early so was a bit punchy that whole day. My travel, though, was fine; the plane was about an hour late leaving, yet arrived close to the original arrival time. Perhaps there was a TARDIS involved? The van I took from the airport to the Dolphin Hotel was completely full of RWA Conference attendees, with the exception of one male business traveler who was going to the Hilton. We almost talked him into going to the conference with us instead.
I spent the rest of Wednesday with the mundanities of checking in, registering, unpacking, etc. before the Literacy Autographing, which is a fun but exhausting event. I then ventured out to the Blogger Bar Bash and met…lots and lots of cool people. I have a pile of business cards. Let’s see, there was Anime June of Gossamer Obsessions, and KristieJ of Ramblings on Romance, and Librarian of the Year Jennifer Lohmann, and Magdalen B of Promantica, and of course host Wendy the Super Librarian. And many more. I was so tired I wasn’t very entertaining, though. Instead of going on to the Romance Divas Karaoke gathering as I’d planned, I went to sleep instead. That was the right choice.
Thursday morning, thanks to the suggestion of rommate Sarah Frantz, I got room service. It was an unspeakable luxury not to have to hunt around for food, since I hadn’t quite mastered the hotel’s geography yet. However, I felt about a thousand times better than I had the night before, so everything made much more sense! I dropped off my postcards and bookmarks at the Goody Room and picked up various goodies for a Romance Diva friend who collects such things. I also visited the bookmarks of friends Kate Pearce and Jeannie Lin and snabbled a couple for my own use, even though I’d already pre-ordered their books.
Before lunch, I hung out in the lobby for a while with fellow Romance Divas, briefly interrupted by chats with my editor, who was passing by, and with Lucienne Diver, whom I hadn’t seen on Wednesday. I really enjoyed Nora Roberts’ keynote speech, and had a nice chat at the luncheon with Robin Rotham.
I worked out at the hotel’s health club on Thursday afternoon, then that evening was the party for my online RWA chapter, Passionate Ink. Writer Angela Knight and scholar Sarah Frantz spoke most entertainingly, and I ate a lot of cheese. Soon after, I discovered my voicemail on my cell phone was wonky, so I dragged Ella Drake with me to fix it, because being without voicemail at a conference spells disaster.
I skipped dinner (remember all the cheese?) and then put on my pink pajamas and black satin robe to attend eHarlequin’s annual Pajama Party. I was one of the first folks there, so got some interesting looks as I trekked through the crowded hotel lobby, along with a couple of “Pajama party?” queries. At the party, I holed up in a corner with roomie Elaine Golden and fellow writers Ella Drake, Leia Rice, Janet Mullany, and several others who wafted in and out, catching Amanda Berry and Jeannie Lin towards the end.
And so, dear reader, to bed.
Continued tomorrow!
I haven’t done a lot of research on Rupert Brooke (1887-1915); he’s not my favorite World War One poet by a longshot, and though he died in Greece while in the army (on the way to Gallipoli), he never saw combat. William Butler Yeats once described him as “the handsomest young man in England,” though, and I do agree he was very, very pretty.
I don’t actually believe I have a “muse,” but it makes a catchy title. The reason I don’t like to say “my muse” is that it implies the impetus for my writing comes from a mysterious outside source. If that were true, it would be out of my control. I don’t think that’s a good thing.
So for me, “muse” is code for “my brain.” So-called “inspiration” also means, to me, “my brain.” As a writer, I’m pretty self-centered. I spend a lot of time thinking about how my brain works and how my writing process works, and I use that to help me when it’s not going so well.
On to feeding my brain. (Braaaaaaiiiiiiiiinnnnnnzzzzzzzz!!!!!!!)
So far, I’ve always been able to write something when I sit down to write. The hard part for me is usually the sitting down part. However, some days are better than others. Some days, I feel like I have more to give the story than others.
What do I do when I don’t have as much to give? (When The Muse turns her back on me, oh woe?!)
Stories, like brains (and zombies!), need food. That food is made up of snips and snaps of facts and opinions and images and emotions. Sometimes, if I feel like my brain is hungry, I decide there’s nothing for it but to feed it. I start reading a new fiction book, or a new research book, or I take a night off and watch a DVD, or I exercise, or I go for a walk or go shopping, to fill up my brain with new Things. After a little while, like magic, I can sit down and the writing flows better.
What do you do when your brain is empty?
Today is release day for The Duchess, Her Maid, The Groom and Their Lover in German. Read the German excerpt here.
Order Die Herzogin, ihre Zofe, der Stallbursche und ihr Liebhaber
“Herzogin Camille ist verzweifelt: Ihr grausamer Ehemann will sie umbringen, damit er sich eine junge, gefügige Frau suchen kann, die ihm endlich einen Erben schenkt. Statt tatenlos auf ihren Tod zu warten, entschließt Camille sich zur Flucht. Mit ihrem jungen Geliebten, dem Stallburschen Henri, und ihren ergebensten Dienern sucht sie Unterschlupf in Bordellen und gibt sich tabulosen körperlichen Freuden hin. Doch während sie noch lustvoll seufzt, sind ihnen die Männer des Herzogs bereits auf den Fersen….”
Victoria Janssen hat bereits mehr als dreißig erotische Kurzgeschichten unter ihrem Pseudonym Elspeth Potter veröffentlicht. Soweit sie weiß, ist sie die einzige Autorin, die jemals eine Geschichte geschrieben hat, in der menschenfressende Schildkröten vorkommen. Die Herzogin, Ihre Zofe, Der Stallbursche Und Ihr Liebhaber, ist Victoria Janssens erster Roman. Wenn sie nicht schreibt oder liest, gibt sie Workshops über das Schreiben und Verkaufen von erotischer Literatur.
The German edition was mentioned at buecher.ueber-alles.
i like my body when it is with your
body. It is so quite new a thing.
Muscles better and nerves more.
i like your body. i like what it does,
i like its hows. i like to feel the spine
of your body and its bones,and the trembling
-firm-smooth ness and which i will
again and again and again
kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,
i like,slowly stroking the,shocking fuzz
of your electric fur,and what-is-it comes
over parting flesh….And eyes big love-crumbs,
and possibly i like the thrill
of under me you so quite new
–e.e. cummings
