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Tag: how does a writer get ideas

A New Interview With Myself

sue

Hey! Where’re you going? I thought we were going to blog for a moment?

I’ve got a Zumba class in 15 minutes. Sorry. I hate interviews. Have I mentioned that?

 

Zumba? Really? I mean you’re getting on in years. I hope you take it easy…

Hell no. I take it to the max. I got calories to burn. I sit at a desk all day long.

 

What other workouts do you do?

I exercise at least six times a week. One step class, three Zumba classes, and two yoga classes. Listen, I really need to go…

 

That seems like a lot. When do you find time to write?

I get up at 5:30 seven days a week and write for at least two hours.

 

How impressive. How do you force yourself to do that?

Huh? Force? I’ve heard other people say what ‘hard work’ writing is. It’s not like that for me. What is hard, is to STOP writing. I wish I could write all day and all night.

 

I see you’ve published two medieval romances. Is there a particular reason you chose that genre?

Ha. ‘How to Train Your Knight’ was the first to get noticed by a publisher and my best at that time. I have a couple contemporary novels and a paranormal story just waiting for me to go back and get them ready for print. I wish I had more time…

 

Did you always want to be a writer?

Uh… no…. Honestly? For the longest time, I didn’t think beyond saving for my kids’ college, paying my bills, and getting a good night’s sleep. Being able to write is a recent discovery. I learned I can paint watercolors, as well. I sold a few in a gallery. And I learned to tile, and ah, code, manage a software project… I think as we get older, our capacity to learn increases. Don’t you?

 

Hmmm. Most would disagree.

You really are a Debbie Downer. Got a case of the Mondays? You get one more question. As I said, I have a workout.

 

What advice would you give new writers?

First of all? Do you love it? If not, find something else to do. If yes, then write every spare minute you have and then, if you are serious? Get some professional feedback and get better at your art. Then write some more and get more feedback, and write some more and get your work out there. And dream big and get published and write some more.

Sorry self. I gotta go. We can talk later.

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Stella channels the past?

af0c84d5492a484b8076b638c3574d68The weirdest thing happened this morning and I just have to share it.

For those of you that don’t know me, I’m generally considered an extremely level-headed woman, I know well the difference between making things up and reality.

So that is why I am FREAKING OUT!

The heroine in my third book is entirely fictional and is supposed to be the only living survivor of King Magnus, the last of the Norse rulers on the Isle of Man. In my story, the King of Scotland, who conquered the Manx,  decides to put her on the throne, as an effort to win the goodwill of the people. I made up a haughty female to be able to spar with the alpha knight I have in mind.

This morning, while doing some research on the ‘Isle of Man,’ I found an obscure reference to another,  written by a scholar at Western Michigan University. In it, I read that there actually was a queen on the isle of Man in the same decade in which I am writing!  She was the closest living heir to the last king of Man,

I had no idea.

SHIVERS.

http://www.medievalists.net/2012/09/16/viking-women-in-the-isle-of-man/

http://scholarworks.wmich.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1057&context=hilltopreview

 

 

 

 

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BLOG-A-THON Extravaganza!

HOW TO MARRY YOUR WIFE by STELLA MARIE ALDEN

AMAZON BUY LINK

OVER 40 BLOGGERS HAVE JOINED WITH ME TO WELCOME THE RELEASE OF MY NEW MEDIEVAL ROMANCE!

I could not be more thrilled.

I have two tours scheduled.
One from the 18th to the 20th!

And one from the 23rd to the 26th!

I will be posting details on my the facebook events and keeping you up to date!

HERE IS THE FIRST EVENT
https://www.facebook.com/events/953991171337076/

What is a blog tour?
It is when a group of bloggers host your content on their site, sharing your joy of the birth of your book!
What happens there?

For those that show up and leave a comment that proves they have taken a peak at my first page, they can click on a link to be entered into a raffle to wind $25 in CASH!!

So.I sure hope you win!!

ENJOY!

Go ahead and click on ‘How To Marry Your Wife’ over there on the right!
IT’s free with Kindle Unlimited.

If you haven’t bought the first? Well it’s ONLY .99 for a very limited time.

Have a great Thanksgiving!

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Thursday Threads presents Viola Russell. YAR PIRATES!!!!

Welcome Pirates! YAR!

BuccaneerBeauty

Genre: Historical Romance

Heat Level: Sensual

BUY LINK:  http://www.amzn.com/B010MOFENQ/

 

BUCCANEER BEAUTY is the story of Grace, Graínne, O’Malley, the beautiful daughter of a powerful Irish chieftain and a conventional mother. At the age of eleven, Graínne cuts her hair and sneaks aboard her father’s galley ship, determined to follow a life at sea and to seek the company of a handsome Scottish gallowglass, Bruce Donnel. Graínne proves herself a budding warrior when Spanish marauders invade her father’s vessel, but her parents have other plans for her. Though she proves an able sailor, Graínne is forced to marry Donal O’Flaherty, another powerful chieftain. Though enamored of Bruce Donnel, she nonetheless obeys her parents and proves an able helpmate to her violent and rash husband, continuing her own adventures at sea while raising children and supervising her husband’s home. Her heart, however, still belongs to a handsome Scot who she can never have.

 

Upon Donal’s death by ambush, Graínne continues her adventures along the Irish coast and Europe, secretly battling England’s growing power in her country. Alternately sleeping with the devil or manipulating the British authorities to her own ends, Graínne is determined to save her family and people from the tyranny imposed upon them by England. To make her family stronger, she weds Richard Bourke, one of the most powerful men in the region, but she can never forget Bruce Donnel and the passion he incited within her soul. Richard proves Graínne’s most stalwart supporter and she his, their minds and bodies uniting in an almost mystical union. Together, they faced the English with no fear—with only audacity and boundless courage. Still, the shadow of a youthful gallowglass intrudes on Graínne’s peace.

 

Excerpt:

“I wish you could come with me to Bunowen.” Grainne heard Bruce’s footsteps when he stepped on the hay spread along the barn. She looked up from grooming her chestnut horse.

“Now what would I be doing there?” Bruce ambled toward her and began stroking the mare’s nose. The horse stomped on the ground with her right front hoof and let out a fierce snort. The Scot took a step back.

“She thinks you mean to dishonor me.” Grainne grinned at him as she combed the horse’s mane. “My da gave her to me after that first voyage. Before that, I’d only had a pony. He said I could handle Anu after that.”

Bruce had regained his courage. He searched within the folds of his cloak and offered the horse a carrot. Anu gazed at him with what looked like suspicion, sniffing the tempting vegetable. “She’s a wild one.”

Grainne laughed and threw her arms around the animal’s long neck. “She’s a smart one, you’re meaning.” She stared at the now fully-grown man before her. His fair hair fell lightly onto his shoulders, and he wore the tartan trews typical of his people. She glanced at the way his muscular legs bulged within the tight material of his tartan trews. He’d spent most of his life yielding an axe, and Grainne didn’t want to admit to herself how lonely the months were when he returned to his native land with the rest of his men. “How old are you now, Bruce Donnel?”

Bruce watched as Anu took a generous bite from the carrot, then he lifted it to his own lips, grinning. “Older than you, Lady Grainne.” He studied her for a few minutes. “Twenty.”

“So no Highland Lass has won your heart, has she?” Grainne swept the coarse mane from the comb and tossed it aside. She wiped her hands on her trews and pushed a stray strand of hair from her face.

“No, my heart’s been stolen by an Irish goddess, but I can’t have her.” He turned to the pawing horse and shared the rest of his carrot.

Grainne’s heart hammered inside her breast. She took a deep breath and forced levity into her voice. “Who is she, pray tell?”

Bruce was suddenly so close to her that she could feel his hot breath feathering the slight hairs on her neck. “Don’t play with me, Grainne. It hurts too much.”

Grainne swallowed hard as her very being lurched with desire and aching need. Every sinew in her body wanted to wrap him within the all-consuming fire of her passion. She forced a laugh into her voice. “What hurts? By what I hear aboard ship you waste no time pining for the chieftain’s daughter. You’re quite the man about port. Many a Spanish and French lass can attest to that.”

“They mean nothing.” His fingertips lightly touched a strand of her hair, but he jerked away as if an electric jolt raced through his body. He added bitterly, “But you’re the daughter of one of the most powerful men in Connaught, and you’re soon to be the wife of another. I’m a poor mercenary.”

“Not so poor by what I’ve heard.” Grainne struggled to control her own rapid breathing. The heat of his body infiltrated her very pores. “Rumor has it you’ve farmland in the Highlands.”

Bruce’s face was very close to hers as he moved closer to her, his breath fanning against her lips as they lightly touched hers.  Grainne involuntarily touched his cheek, her fingertips on fire and her own breathing sounding loud in her ears. “You’ve heard right. It would be a great place to raise sheep, if I had the right woman.”

“Aye. It would be in a place with the right woman.”

Grainne looked away, but she still felt his heat. He cupped her chin under with his thumb and forefinger, forcing her to look at him. His brown eyes bore into her soul. Grainne’s whole body grew hot, and she gently slapped away his hand. Turning from him, she replied softly over her shoulder, “I have to finish with Anu.”

“Would you leave with me, my wild rose?” Suddenly, Bruce’s powerful arms encircled her waist. He ran his lips along her neck as his hands shifted to her breasts.

Grainne turned to him, almost against her as though she couldn’t help her conscious will. In his arms, she wasn’t possessed of a mind at all, only an aching body that longed for sexual release. During her long journeys at sea, Grainne had acquired many unsavory sailors’ habits. She loved to game and swore in such a way that made her mother cross herself before flailing her only daughter, but Grainne had never given of herself to man. She’d purposefully withheld her sexual favors from the men inhabiting her father’s ships. Grainne was a chieftain’s daughter. She wouldn’t disgrace him or herself.

 

Viola Russell

By Viola Russell

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TRAILER! ‘How To Marry Your Wife’

How to Marry Your Wife #4c copy

What foul devilry is this? They told her he was dead. After six long years without a word, her knight falls onto his knees and sings poetry. Then he denies their son? Heed this well. She’s no longer an innocent who’ll giggle and tarry on his every word. The sharp edge of her tongue and knife is the only welcome he’ll get. She’ll not marry him. The pain would be too much to bear should he ever leave again.

Her attitude is beyond understanding. What voice did he have? The king commanded and he obeyed. Regardless of her hatred, the Templar knight must wed. This time she will travel with him and he will win back her favor. It’s a long road from London to Hadrian’s Wall. Evil deeds weave a plot laced with castles, kidnappings, and missives. Will the treacherous journey split them asunder forever? Mayhap only in heaven will he rekindle the passion they once shared.

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‘How To Marry Your Wife’

Tell me. What do you think? COMING NOVEMBER 18th!

What foul devilry is this? They told her he was dead. After six long years without a word, her knight falls onto his knees and sings poetry. Then he denies their son? Heed this well. She’s no longer an innocent who’ll giggle and tarry on his every word. The sharp edge of her tongue and knife is the only welcome he’ll get. She’ll not marry him. Besides, the pain would be too much to bear should he leave her again.

Shocked beyond measure that he has a son, a Templar agrees he must wed. He insists his new family travel with him to his lands in the north. It’s a long road from London to Hadrian’s Wall and evil deeds weave into a plot laced with castles, kidnappings, and pigeons. Will the journey split them asunder forever? Perhaps only in heaven will he find a way into her hardened heart.

Check out the prologue.

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Writing a Novel

k10ALAS!

Sometimes writing wrings my soul dry. More than an actor I must become my characters. I share their desires. I feel their pain. I cry. I want to help but like a good and gracious god, I know they must go through these chapters in order to be happy and productive, post-novel. It’s hard to explain but in my mind’s eye, these people are real. I’m just documenting a segment of their lives.

As heroine, I have survived much trauma. As I fall in love I begin to remember why I don’t want a man to touch me. I am torn and tormented. I shed tears as the memories of my attack begin so seep into my consciousness.

As the hero, I am living a lie. I either get the heroine to fall in love with me or die. The more attracted I become to her, the more I detest myself. I can find no way out. Until I am knighted, my life is little more than that of a slave. Even then, I will be underneath my grandfather’s powerful rule. If he wants her pregnant with my child, so be it.

Oh dear hearts. Worry not. We are but on the fifth chapter. It seems bleak now, but we will prevail.

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An Interview with Ann and Marcus

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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A New Author And Social Media

First… let me get your attention…..

k4k6

and a few more just to be sure….

k8k10

 

 

Awesome.

When Soul Mate Publishing approached me with a contract and told me I would be doing my own marketing, I almost didn’t sign.

WHAAAAA???? “I don’t know anything about marketing,” I said. “How in the world will I ever figure it out?”

My editor assured me I would do fine.

I’m one of those A+ overachiever types, so when I put my John Hancock on the dotted line, I challenged myself to learn EVERYTHING I needed to know about marketing in three months. That was my release date.

Some people have asked what I did to rise so high in the rankings so here goes.

I asked other writers what they were doing. I knew I only should’ve been asking VERY successful writers what they were doing but I didn’t know any very successful writers. In fact, I didn’t know any writers at all. Crap.

I researched online and hired a consultant for an hour. Enter Jane Friedman. We talked, she gave me a list of places to research, and I was off and running. I think I probably could’ve found everything she said on her website, but, it just felt SO GOOD to talk to someone.

“Most important,” she said, “you need reviews. Ask friends, go to review websites, and research.”

“Okay. I can do that.” I had no idea how hard that would be.

“What next?”

“Blog site, website, Goodreads, Pinterest, Facebook, Twitter Account.”

I remember thinking at that point, I could just hire all this out so I said, “No Problemo.”

Blithely I left that conversation thinking I had it all down until…I saw how much money these services cost to hire out. Wow.

Okay. I’m a programmer. How hard could it be? Hahahahahhaha. Famous last words. Did I mention I’m an overachiever? Over the next three months I ticked one thing after another off my list.

Realizing I needed some more help, I hired Hajni at Substance Books. I could tell you what she told me to do, but then I’d have to kill you. Seriously? She is SO WORTH the small fee she asks.

Her method, however, is very much show and tell at the basic level I pay for. She gives instructions and I do it.

Thusly armed, I thought I had it down, but I didn’t. I felt like a parrot. Buy my book. Buy my Book. Everything that I’d read not to do and say, I did.

Connect? Virtually? Sounds like an Oxymoron? Right? But on Mother’s Day, I saw this tweet. “Next person to tweet me, I will give a review to.”

I tweeted back, “Me Me ME. PICK ME! Oh oh oh.”

She virtually laughed. We’ve become the best of virtual friends and now I get it.

Connect with your fans.

That’s it. I have fun. I tweet out stuff that makes me laugh and feel positive.

I pin things on Pinterest that look like scenes or people in my book… and yea.. some other stuff too.

I still work 40 hours on my day job. I still write for 20 hours a week. I still work out for seven.

Most everything else, that adds no value to my life, I’ve had to let go.
Know what the coolest thing is?


I REALLY LIKE IT!

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Where do Writer’s Get Ideas for Their Novels?

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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