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An Interview with Ann and Marcus

Published by stella on September 5, 2015

I go back in time, to the year 1276 to have a short speak with Ann and Marcus. They insist we chat while soaking in their ancient Roman bathhouse and I have to agree, it’s heavenly.
bathhouse

It’s odd to get naked with my characters, but I am sitting so that I am mostly concealed under the water. I wish Marcus would do so as well, but every so often he pushes up with hands to the edge, and gracefully exits. I can’t help but stare at his magnificent warrior’s physique.

When he eases back in with the grace of a cat, I start my questions with Ann. “I hear you are with child?”

She beams and rubs her swollen belly. “Indeed I am. Do you know if it’s a boy or girl?”

I do, but won’t spoil the surprise. “No, no. We will find out together in book two.”

“Book two? You mean for us to have another adventure? I believe I would rather not” Her mouth purses and turns down into a pout.

Marcus glares at me. “I thought we were safe in happily-ever-after.”

I swallow hard. “Well, yes and no. That’s why I’m here. Sir Thomas is going to need your help, Marcus. Ann, I’m afraid you will be stuck minding hearth and home.”

Her eyes dart to Marcus, no doubt waiting for him to agree but he seems mollified for a moment. “That hardly seems just.”

I clear my throat. “I know, but you’ll be pregnant with your third child… and it doesn’t seem right to have you off on an adventure to Scotland. Besides, who’ll mind your villagers?”

She settles back into the water with a happy face and reaches for a clay pot. “Three children? Very well. As long as you agree that my husband will not meet with ill fortune.”

I nod and turn such that I face the tub wall, not wanting to show my body to my characters. After all, I am author-god. I should look a hell of a lot more… god-like. “There will be some perilous moments but not so much for him as for Thomas.”

Grabbing soap salts, she begins to scrub my back with a linen cloth. “Sir Thomas? I thought you sent him to parts unknown. To trade for the king.”

The lavender scent is heavenly. “I did, but I had to bring him home. You know the lovely maid he’s been eyeing all summer? I’m afraid she is with child.”

Marcus growls and glances at his sword lying beside the pool. “I shall gut him from chin to-. Bring him back this instant. First there must be a wedding.”

I turn, put my palms up in the air in supplication, then quickly duck back down. “Well that’s just the point of the story. It’s going to be five years before I can get him back.”
“Absolutely unacceptable. By God, I won’t have any knight of mine making a chit pregnant.”

“Be reasonable. I cannot. He’s south of Rome by now, and makes his way to the east where neither pigeon, nor messenger can catch him.”

“Oh my. Well, we’ll just have to make the best of it.” Ann hops out of the water, dons her tunic, and rushes out the door in bare feet.

Marcus follows at a slower pace, sparing one glance back at me. “There better be another happily-ever-after, or heads will roll”
I lean back into the heated baths and sigh. That went quite well.

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Where do Writer’s Get Ideas for Their Novels?

Published by stella on July 27, 2015

Where do Writer’s Get Ideas for Their Novels?

I just finished my final change before my second book goes to my publisher and I’m already considering the plot for the next.
I would guess every author’s brain is different, but this is how mine works.

First, and foremost, my books start with “What-If”. Let me try to explain this odd phenomenon. It’s a thread that’s constantly running in the background of my consciousness; it never sleeps, it never turns off, and it never “blocks.” It’s a funny little troll that has always spoken at will in my mind’s eye.

It goes like this:

Example. What if one day I walk by the creepy house on the hill next door, a cardboard box is dropped onto their driveway during a UPS delivery, and hundreds of bottles of prescription drugs roll down to my feet?

Example. What if I’m sitting at my cube, writing software, and I’m called to the front office to receive delivery of a computer. I turn it on for the first time and a video plays that says to hide it and tell no one or die.

Example. What if I’m a scientist studying the effect of comforting sounds on the human psyche and place a microphone over a gurgling stream deep in the woods, and that night, overhear two guys burying a body? When I check it out with the cops the next day, there’s nothing there and I lose my credibility. I continue to listen in and hear much more than I should…

Example. What if I’m a Renaissance-thinking lady, leading a Medieval village into prosperity, and suddenly am forced to marry a hard-headed Templar knight?

Example. What if I have a five year old son, and his father, who I think is dead, shows up on my doorstep near London Towne? What if the year is 1278 and I’m forced to marry him and he lives miles away at the border with Scotland?

Look into your pocket or purse. Find an object. Make up your own What If.

Try it out. I’ll give you a start.

What if last night, at the bar, you picked up the wrong cell phone? It rings and you hear a recorded message not intended for you.

What if…a key…

What if…a receipt…

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Best Foot Forward

Published by stella on April 7, 2015

One thing that entering RWA contests did for me was make me focus on the first paragraph of my book. Don’t ignore that old adage ‘you only have one chance to make a first impression.’

Some writers may believe that a book should start at the beginning of the story. I say no. A book should start where the action has tension and interest. The rest is back story that can be filled in with a conversation.

Here are some examples. Tell me what you think.

 

***

Year of our Lord 1276

“By God, drag her down here! Naked if you must! Bread and water from now to eternity if you can’t!” Sir Marcus Blackwell slammed his fist on the well-worn table and the sound echoed back from every direction. Of all the bad luck. Forced into marriage with a foul-mouthed, murderous widow.

He clenched his teeth when the next bout of high-pitched screams and curses exploded from the floor above. Crashes, clanging, and banging followed. He cringed as the Lady Ann’s strident screaming rang throughout the stone manor and probably into the courtyard.

 

Here are other samples of a book starts:

 

Like a naked goddess, she arose from the top pool in the Roman bathhouse. Like Venus in a fountain, her melon breasts dripped with water and rosy nipples pointed where they met the cooler air. She took a linen from the ancient mosaic floor and dried herself inch by inch with her eyes closed.

 

***

The door chimes clanged and two large men, carrying a third, burst into the tea shop. Suzanne Burton jumped up and her freshly made coffee toppled onto her lap. Hot. Hot. Hot. She peeled off her scalding sweat pants and wiped her legs.

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