I have a dilemma. My cover artist Tracy Stewart did two different covers for my print edition of Breaking Through. I need your help in deciding which to use. So, please vote for cover 1 or cover 2 and let me know.
I know there isn't much difference between them. The differences are the placement of the tag line. the second cover has more red in the background and the image is a little larger. I'd really like to hear your opinion.
I finished my book on Thursday. Breaking Through is finished. And I had a wonderful group of ladies at my crit group, Lethal Ladies, who have gone over every chapter.
They weeded through some of the little stuff like missing commas and extra quotation marks and addressed sentences that might need restructuring. Even formatting issues.
And now the editor has it. And I'm in waiting mode.
The high you get after you finish a book is unbelievable. It's the culmination of months and months of work. In my case, seven and a half months. You've put other things you've wanted to do on hold. You've allowed your house to GROW into a cluttered wreck. You've made excuses to family and friends about accepting invitations. All because you are obsessed with your imaginary characters and your story. (Or at least that's my process.)
And now it's done. And you get that rush of excitement and satisfaction because you've accomplished something monumental. Four hundred and eighty-six double spaced pages. 127,529 words. It's also part of my process to print the whole document out and keep it in a three ring binder. In this case a three inch binder. There was no room left for even a single page.
The story is with my editor. I've sent my baby off to her to be read and analyzed, poked and prodded. And she'll weed out every missed punctuation mark, misplaced punctuation mark, redundant sentence, and a million other issues. And if there are any holes in my plot, she'll find them and let me know.
I've also sent the finished piece to a few friends as beta readers to give me some feedback on how they like the characters and story. Got my fingers crossed.
I have my beautiful covers!!! For both my print and epub edition. Thanks to Tracy Stewart at ALL ABOUT THE COVER.
As soon as I get the edits back from my editor, Faith Free-woman, at DEMON FOR DETAILS , and she is a demon for details, I'll jump into those. She'll do one more read through to make sure everything has been caught. She's really wonderful about that.
Then I'll send it to the formatter, Lee, at IRON HORSE FORMATTING . He'll work his magic and get my document looking beautiful and publish ready. He does all the different formats and I don't have to do anything but send him the doc file. THANK YOU, LEE. Because I've done them myself before and it's a real PAIN. He'll even set it up for my print edition and I'll be ready to upload. The uploading is nerve racking for me. But that's another blog.
I'm sooooo thrilled to be finished!!! Just had to share.
Below is an UNEDITED excerpt in case you'd like to read part of the new book.
Write and Read on,
up and leaned into his desk to rest his elbows on top of it. His thick gray
hair, more salt than pepper, gleamed beneath the florescent lights. “Sharper angles, huh? Any time you start
talking sharper angles, I have to call the legal department and vet something
to make sure we don’t get sued.”
always have three dependable sources before I write the story, Mr. Taylor.”
He waved a
hand in a dismissive gesture. “I know.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “The
problem is for every story we find there are five people jumping on it, and
it’s blasted across the television news, blogs, and cell phones before we can
even get it into print. It isn’t the quality of your work, Tess.” His gaze
raked her face. “You’d be better off trying to join some local news program and
getting your face on camera. You’re pretty, young, and sharp. You’d probably
make it to the top in nothing flat.”
want my face on television. I’m a writer, not a public speaker.” She drew a
deep breath. “Most stories are written in a hit, then move on format. The human
element is totally missed. I want to delve more deeply into issues, not just
skim the surface. Most of the stories we cover are about people. Why can’t we
concentrate on bringing the human-interest angle to the forefront instead of
the issues? Once your readers identify with the people involved, they’ll want
to read more.”
rose, speculation in his gaze. “What do you have in mind?”
phone rang. She jerked it from her pocket and glanced at the ID. The number
seemed vaguely familiar. She
pressed the on button. “Hello.”
rush of adrenaline surging through her system. Heat rose to her face, and her
heart raced. “Yes. What can I do for you?”
join me for lunch at the Sheerwater today?”
Taylor listening to her end of the conversation, she hesitated. “Is there some
specific reason you’re asking me to lunch?”
the fact that you’re beautiful, and have gorgeous legs?” His husky male tone
shot sex appeal across the line.
She bit her
lip to hide the instant response that triggered a flush to her skin and
dampness between her legs. How could he
do that with just his voice?
be a story in it for you.”
Was he just
playing her? Or was he serious? SEALs had a reputation for being players. But
he was asking to meet in a public place. A very beautiful public place. A hotel.
An image of
him and her in one of the rooms exploring— Oh
shit. She couldn’t go there.
of story could he possibly have for her? Nothing with too much political
substance. He’d not risk his career to offer her any military secrets. But if
she didn’t go, she’d never know what he wanted.
silence on the other end of the line broke through her anxious speculations. “What
time?” she asked.
will be fine.”
Tess hit the
off button, and her attention shifted to Taylor. “That was,” she started to say
Brett Weaver and changed it to “a
source. Possibly a lead on a story.”
asking you out on a date?”
shot of anger made her voice tremble. “I don’t date my sources, Mr. Taylor. You
know we women are liberated enough that we don’t have to resort to using our
bodies to –”
He raised a
hand. “I was out of line.” Taylor said, cutting her off.
Tess took several
deep breaths to calm herself. Had every man in this business remained stuck in
the chauvinistic seventies— like her father? “He says he has a story for me.”
look at the SEALs. In particular, Brett Weaver.”
who did the speaking engagement yesterday.”
are interested in him because his buddy allegedly tried to kill Weaver and his
sister along with some girl he was dating. This guy might be able to tell me
“If you can
get info and corroborate it, I may be tempted to allow you to do the series,
you’re angling for. You were angling for a series?”
been, but a series would be great. Female readers would eat up a series about
SEALs. There must be something on Brett Weaver’s mind. Perhaps it had something
to do with why he’ d been escorted back to base yesterday. He’d played it down,
but there had been more than one tense moment between him and the two military
Excitement jogged through her system and her heartbeat caught the rhythm. Maybe he’d actually open up, and she’d find out what was
Uploading a book to Amazon, or any publishing site, is a nerve racking experience. It doesn't matter if you have a wonderful, clean, well-edited document to upload. Just waiting for the process to finish, and agonizing over the possibilities of something going wrong, is enough to cause you to bite your fingernails down to the quick, grind your teeth down to the gum line, and sprout gray hair in a matter of moments.
But maybe it's just me.
The book I was reuploading is Timeless. I've added a Table of Contents and an epilogue. So if you bought the ebook be sure to go download the latest volume.
And I'm posting the epilogue here on my blog for those of you who can't wait and want to read it now.
If you haven't read the book, this epilogue holds spoilers so be forwarned.
Teresa J. Reasor
glanced at her watch and pushed the dentist pick and brush she’d been using into
the painter’s apron tied about her waist. Her hands flew to untie the laces and
she snatched off the canvas and stuffed it in a bucket.
you quitting then?” Hannah asked, pushing her glasses up her nose, leaving a
layer of dust across the bridge.
coming and I’d like to shower off the dust and dirt before he gets here.” Her
heart raced at the thought. It had been two long weeks since they’d been together.
know you’ll not miss the raising of the lid.”
but I’d like him with me when it happens.”
I can understand that. He has as much invested in uncovering the stones as the
rest of us.”
be back with him in tow, I promise.”
in hand, Regan trotted across the scaffold toward the dock, though the urge to
run was strong. The two weeks she and Quinn had been apart had seemed an
eternity, despite how busy she’d been.
she reached the gravel path to the dock she turned to study the site. Several
of the monoliths stood proud and tall but more than half had broken off at the
base. Their lintels lay scattered about like Lincoln logs. The two large stones
that had projected through the chamber roof and sunk deep into the floor had shattered
and lay in crumbling pieces behind the altar. The Ogham carved into each stone
remained, though some of the markings had eroded to the point of being
their messages remain undeciphered? She hoped so. If nothing else, she had learned
that some secrets were better left undiscovered.
hopped from the dock into the small aluminum john boat. She gave the pull line
a sharp tug and the engine fired. She grabbed the tiller and turned the vessel
down the loch. A damp breeze gusted across the bow bringing with it the smell
of the water and a crisp chill.
row of cabins appeared from just around the bend. They remained much the same
as before, as did her roommates, Helen, Sheary, and Hannah.
the dire mysteries of the henge hanging over them all, it had been easier to
develop a normal relationship with her coworkers and Quinn’s brothers.
shared memories of all she and Quinn had experience had bound Quinn and her
together. Without danger hanging over them they’d been free to enjoy each other
and the passion they shared.
guided the john boat against the dock and tied it off. With no one there to
comment she gave in to her excitement, jogged down the planking and up the path
to the cabin. She’d just thrust her key in the lock when the door swung open.
gasp of surprise was compounded by Quinn’s quick tug as he pulled her across
the threshold and into his arms. His mouth was hot and hungry as he kissed her.
have news,” he murmured against her lips, as the kissed changed into a more
arms tightened around his neck and she wrapped her legs around his waist.
“Later,” she breathed. “I’ve missed you.”
laughter morphed into a groan as she thrust her tongue forward to tangle with
his. His large hands cupped her bottom holding her in place as his long legs
made short work of the hallway. He kicked her bedroom door closed behind him
and tumbled onto the bed with her.
undressed one another, their frenetic movements driven by the need to be
skin-to-skin, heart to heart. Once they were both naked he thrust into her.
Regan cupped his buttocks and twisted her hips.
love you, Regan,” the words came unbidden. He said them often now and each time
it stole her breath.
she breathed, her voice stolen by a wave of emotion.
gave herself up to his passion, and to the physical pleasure he inspired with
his movements, his murmured words of love. The knowledge of how close they had
come to losing one another fed their need.
the aftermath of their lovemaking she raked her fingers through the coarse
curls at the back of his head and held him close while they caught their breath.
so glad you’re back.”
raised his head to look down at her. “Aye, I could tell.” His grin held just a
touch of male satisfaction.
settled next to her and drew her against his side.
rested her head in the hollow of his shoulder and ran a hand over his chest.
“What was the news you mentioned?”
first I’ve put Rob in charge of the cleanup now that our cargo ship salvage is
done so I can stay a few days.”
She nestled closer.
seemed satisfied with taking on the added responsibility.”
She ran a fingertip through the hair on his chest. “While we’re sharing, I’ve
done some research and discovered there’s no record of Henry or Marissa ever
having lived.” She tried to ignore the quick pang of grief. Despite what he had
become, Henry’s loss still hurt. And it was sad that the people the two had
impacted before they’d taken such wrong turns, like their parents and friends,
would never know of his or Marissa’s disappearance. They’d never existed for
anyone but her and Quinn.
it not strange that even without Henry the same group of scuba divers
discovered the henge?” Quinn asked.
something to be said for fate.”
you think that’s what brought us together?” Quinn grasped her hand and raised
her fingertips to his lips.
think Coira had something to do with our meeting. But I don’t know for certain,
and I don’t care.” She rubbed her cheek against his chest. “I’m just relieved
that we’re together.”
you don’t stop that, we’ll never get to the last thing I’ve waited to tell
raised her head to shoot him a smile.
made a wee stop at the National Archives before coming here,” he announced.
smile faltered and her brows went up. She searched his expression as wariness
dimmed her happiness.
brought copies of records I found.”
kind of records?”
dragged in a breath. “Bryce?”
wiggled up into a seated position a squeal of excitement escaping her.
me get them,” Quinn said and threw aside the covers.
long lean slope of his back, the muscular tightness of his buttocks lay bare to
her as he scooped up his jeans from the floor. He stuck his feet into them and
stood to drag them up.
there.” Regan said as he tugged at the zipper.
laughed. “I’ll leave them unzipped so your roommates can admire what they’re
missing if you like.” He sauntered out of the room.
if you want to live,” she said beneath her breath.
heard that.” His laughter floated back to her.
returned with an envelope and set it in her lap. “I’ve highlighted the lines I
thought you’d want to see first. I had time on the plane.”
heartbeat rose in her throat as she drew the paperwork free of the envelope.
She turned the pages one at a time. They were church records of births and
deaths. She recognized Nathrach’s handwriting from the records she’d studied before.
Bryce’s birth was recorded on August 12,1318. She braced herself for some
record of his death and breathed a sigh when it never came. Three pages further
she caught her breath, and tears stung her eyes. “A daughter as well.”
named Regan, after you.” He sat down on the edge of the bed, and his hip
brushed her thigh. “I searched for records of Braden and Coira’s death, but
didn’t find them. I don’t want to Regan. I’d rather think of them living.”
nodded, as tears flowed down her face. She set the documents atop the envelope
and used the sheet to wipe her face. “Just knowing they survived and had
children is enough.” The glow of the clock caught her attention. “Oh my God.”
She struggled to escape the bedclothes. “Oh my God, I’m going to miss it. We’re
going to miss it.”
what?” Quinn asked.
taking the lid off the altar. They think there may be something inside.”
rose, allowing her to scoot to the edge of the bed. “Like what?” he asked, his
tone less than enthusiastic.
his train of thought, she shook her head. “Nothing human. They’ve done x-rays
and think there may be some kind of stone tablet inside.”
green gaze settled on her face dark with wariness. “The last time you read
anything on a stone, we damn near lost our lives and each other, Regan.”
placed a hand on his arm. “The stones are destroyed, Quinn. They aren’t a
he continued to study her, she moved to encircle his waist with her arms and
press close. “We don’t have to go. We can stay here together instead.” He was
more important to her than anything else.
arms tightened around her, and his fingers cupped the back of her head. After
several moments, his lips brushed the top of her head. “Get your clothes on, lass. You’ve said
there was something in the damn thing from the first. You deserve to see what
leaned back and searched his expression.
smiled. “Get dressed, love.” He pulled away, and gathering his clothing from
the floor, disappeared down the hall.
dogged her movements as she put her clothes on and made a quick stop in the
bathroom to wash up. If he was uncomfortable being there, she could live
Quinn stood at the window waiting when
she came down the hall. “What time was it they planned to raise the lid?” he
along then.” He grasped her hand.
left the house. Now that they were on their way he seemed eager to get there
and she had to trot to keep up with him. He kept a grip on her hand as she
stepped into the boat. Once in the vessel he gave the pull rope a quick jerk, started
the engine, and guided the aluminum boat out into the loch.
cofferdam towered over the water, dark blue, hulking, its curved shape bowing
out into the loch. They circled it and Quinn ran the boat up against the dock.
sound of an engine running bounced across the site. Regan grabbed the bucket
with her tools in it as they exited the boat. She and Quinn ran up the dock and
followed the path to the scaffold. An enormous vehicle had been backed onto the
site and the winch fastened to its frame hung above a pulley system suspended
over steel beams. Metal cables were fastened to the twenty-ton stone slab that
sealed the altar. The lines were already taut with pressure as the machine
pulled against the weight. A group of three men held a guide rope attached to
Fraser and his wife stood with Dr. Malone in the center of the group. Her three
roommates were clustered together with Stephen and Rick on one side. Andrew Argus,
MacBean, and Lamont stood on the other.
scanned the group for Nicodemus but didn’t see him. Finding him once again ill
and in pain had been a shock, as was her fist glimpse of MacBean and Lamont
after having watched them die in the chamber.
and Quinn joined the archaeology students. Hannah leaned close to her ear to
speak over the sound of the wench. “Nicodemus passed away this morning.”
man’s second death had been less dramatic than his first. His life had been less
gripped by his manic need to find a cure and more about leaving behind a legacy.
She studied MacBean’s features and recognized the grief that drew the skin
tight across his cheekbones and fastened his hard mouth into a tight line.
winch turned and the slab began to rise. The group seemed to draw a collective
breath as it rose and hung suspended five feet above the altar. The men holding
the guide rope pulled against the weight and the winch reversed, lowering the
stone slowly to the ground.
massive slab kicked up dust as it hit the ground with a whomp. Dr. Fraser
leaped from the scaffold, his lanky frame dressed casually in jeans and a
t-shirt. The stuffed suit had transformed into an archaeologist eager to learn
the secret entombed in the altar. He leaned over the edge of the box-like stone
structure and peered inside.
a stone slab just as we thought.” He motioned for Stephen and Rick forward with
the cameras they held. The boys went to work documenting the interior of the
altar and the slab.
Fraser approached them. “Regan, you’re the smallest of us. Would you bring your
tools and get inside the altar to brush away the debris from the face of the
slab? You can see a faint impression of words beneath the dried dirt.”
breathing quickened and she nodded. “Certainly Dr. Fraser.”
fingers tightened around hers holding her to his side. She glanced up to find
his features pinched with concern.
described his vision of Coira trapped and dying inside the bunk with him and
he’d insisted the altar was where she had been trapped.
lid is off. There’s no water inside,” she said giving his arm a squeeze.
nodded, but his gaze held hers for several moments before he released his grip
on her hand.
Fraser took her bucket and offered her his other hand. She jumped down off the
scaffold next to him. Memories of falling into the opening where the steps had
been plagued her. The open pit in the center of the henge testified to its
location since the ceiling had caved in exposing the chamber to the loch and
filling it with debris. They hadn’t begun to excavate it.
lifted her over the lip of the altar. She perched there for a moment to study
the bottom of the container and then placing her feet carefully, she slid off
onto the surface below. Dr. Fraser offered her the bucket and she quickly
extracted the brush and dental pick from her apron and stuffed the rest back
in. She kneeled and brushed at the sandy debris that covered the slab and
immediately indentions appeared. Working in small areas she whisked aside
enough of the dried residue to uncover the inscription and was surprised to see
it was Latin instead of the Ogham that covered the stones. She studied the
words, deciphering their meaning and a smile leapt to her lips.
does it say, Regan?” Rick asked.
rose so her words could reach the crowd on the scaffold, but her eyes went to
Quinn, and she held his gaze. “It’s Latin, and the inscription says, Love Is Timeless.”
The voice of fiction sings to
the reader as clearly as any vocalist who croons a melody. But just as a
choir is made up of a variety of strong and pure, or thin and reedy voices, so
are the voices that speak through the written word.
Voice speaks through the
devices of plot, character, dialogue, description, tone, style, pacing, and
theme. But how?
Wanting to strengthen my own
voice, I decided to find out. I chose three writers who have distinctive,
strong voices: Joanne Rock, Catherine Mann, and JoAnn Ross. All
three are contemporary writers. All three have voices that sing on the
In her rereleased September 2010, Harlequine,
Blaze, Sex and the Single Girl, Joanne Rock’s turns
of phrase jump off the page with an energy that’s natural and inherently part
of her voice. Every sentence is constructed to convey a story within a story.
Real life collided with the
image on the monitor as Brianne walked in on Aiden and the cigarette girl in a
liplock to set a woman’s heart racing. The stacked little blonde pressed
every one of her considerable curves against Aiden and practically climbed her
way up his tall body.
In two sentences Joanne has nearly constructed an
entire scene, but she’s also done much more. She’s paced those two
sentences in a snappy rhythm that invites the reader to jump from one to the
other by using words that convey action--even when they’re not used as
verbs. Collided, walked, set, racing, stacked, pressed, climbed.
Her words punch the imagery she uses into the reader’s consciousness.
The word liplock, a colloquialism, has
an onomatopoeic zing to it. It stamps an immediate image in the reader’s mind
of two people kissing one another with the inseparable intensity of a suction
cup on glass.
The stacked little blonde pressed every
one of her considerable curves against Aiden and practically climbed her
way up his tall body.
With the phrase considerable curves,
Ms. Rock uses alliteration to enhance the rhythm of the sentence. The sound of
the C is repeated in the verbs collidedand climbed
and the words stackedand practically tying the
whole paragraph together.
Do you feel the snappy beat of Joanne Rock’s voice
yet? If not let’s continue a little further into the scene.
Instead, she steeled herself against the sultry
overload of hormones in Honeymoon Heaven and took command of the room in her
best director voice.
“Am I interrupting something?”
Aiden Maddock had been waiting to hear that throaty
purr all night.
He hadn’t particularly wanted to hear it while he
had Daisy Stephenson clinging to him like a honeysuckle vine.
Once again look at the words that convey
action. Steeled, overload, took, command, interrupting, waiting,
hear, purr, wanted, clinging.
Listen for the alliteration again. Hormones
in Honeymoon Heaven.
Look at the concentrated imagery she conveys in the
phrases sultry overload, throaty purr, and the Simile she
uses in the last sentence, clinging to him like ahoneysuckle vine.
Do you feel that sassy sizzle in the tone
she sets in just these few paragraphs with the word choices she’s made?
That’s her voice, completely natural for her and impossible to imitate, with
any consistency, by anyone else.
Catherine Mann writes for Silhouette Intimate
Moments. Her special ability to weave emotional intensity into almost
every paragraph through internal and external dialogue makes her voice rich and
full. Here’s an excerpt from her Wingmen Warrior, 2010 rerelease, StrategicEngagement.
“I’m so damned scared, Danny.”
Mary Elise’s thready words barely whispered against
his neck until he might have questioned his hearing. But he felt each
word and all her fear soak into him along with the heat of her rapid breaths.
“Tell me,” he coaxed. “Tell me what to do for
Look at Catherine’s action oriented word
choices. Scared, whispered, questioned, felt, soak, coaxed, tell.
Feel the intimacy building between the characters in
the turns of phrase, whispered against his neck, felt each word,
fearsoak into him along with the heat,and even inthe dialogue tag, he coaxed. Even though the dialogue is
about fear there’s a sensual push and pull going on the entire time that
connects the characters on an elemental level.
She inched back, her hand sliding up his face
again. “Oh Danny, can’t you see that you and all this---“ she slipped her
hand around his neck in a sensual glide “--- this tension between us that we
can’t ignore is a big part of the problem? You need to believe me when I
say I just can’t risk staying here with you.”
His arms around her twitched, muscles convulsively
tensing to hold her closer, safer. As much as he wanted to reassure her,
he couldn’t. He knew himself too well.
Listen to the action words that once again convey
sensual tension, inched, sliding, see, slipped, glide, tension, ignore,
believe, risk, staying, twitched, tensing, hold, wanted, knew. Her
word choices impress upon the reader the sexual awareness between her
characters in a tactile, natural tone that is entirely her
Catherine Mann’s ability to build strong, tender
male characters is one of the elements that make her voice resonate.
But he felt each word and all her fear soak into him
along with the heat of her rapid breaths.
“Tell me,” he coaxed. “Tell me what to do for
His arms around her twitched, muscles convulsively
tensing to hold her closer, safer.
The character is strong, willing to jump into the
fray, and nearly vibrates with tenderness and a desire to protect. He’s
every woman’s fantasy, warrior, lover, husband, yet he still comes across as
Her choice of that kind of character
is as much a part of her voice as the words she chooses to convey the emotional
attachment between her characters.
JoAnn Ross writes Contemporary Mainstream Romance
and is published through Pocket. In her book Out of the Mist,
she weaves the element of theme throughout her writing and
ties the entire story together with it.
Her character’s are of Scottish heritage, her
setting the highlands of North Carolina, the theme interlaced throughout the
story Smokey mountain-Gaelic-Medieval Scot in texture.
To demonstrate what I mean I must jump around within
the text instead of choosing a single scene.
Ian had seen that look before. It was the look
of his grandfather’s Westie, right before the dog grabbed onto the postman’s
trousers and refused to let go. It was also the look Duncan got in his
eyes whenever he’d parade some local girl in front of his grandson in hopes of
ensuring a MacDougall heir.
JoAnn Ross’s descriptive passage sings
with the flavor of bagpipes and tin flutes melding the modern and medieval
cultures together. Her use of repetition places emphasis on
the words It was the look portrays as much persistent
determination as a Scotsman clutching a horn of ale.
Her ability to pen similes with fresh
appeal lends a melodic quality to her voice that’s all her own.
Her brain was washed
as clear as the Star of Edinburgh tumblers she’d dusted today; color as rich
and dazzling as Saxon Falconer’s blown glass flashed
behind her closed lids.
She moaned, her hands fisting in the ebony silk of
his hair, as he lifted her off the floor to deepen the kiss. Her breasts
flattened against his chest, which was as rock hard as the mountains of his
homeland, their bodies so close together she couldn’t tell whether it was
his heart pounding she felt, or her own.
His teeth nipped at her bottom lip, just hard enough
to send desire surging through her like a bolt of lightning from a summer
By tying her character’s emotions to things both
concrete and elemental, she anchors their feelings and responses in reality and
gives the reader a point of reference making them more visual to the audience.
He flashed a grin as wicked as a devil’s wink, as
dangerous as a Highlander’s blade.
The hyperbolic phrasing of this
sentence uses dramatic overstatement with playful exaggeration and gives the
reader the idea that the character is as larger-than-life as he’s intended to
Do you recognize the theme meandering
through the story? Do you hear the poetic lyrics penned through the use
of similes, repetition, hyperbole? Her use of
these devices in her descriptive passages is part of what makes her voice
And last of all, look at all the action words that
pepper each one of the lines and scenes I’ve just used as examples. Seen,
look, grabbed, parade, ensuring, washed, dusted, flashed, lifted, deepen,
flattened, pounding, nipped, surging. Those words were
chosen with an eye for visual or tactile appeal and an ear for the pacingof thestory.
Joanne Rock, Catherine Mann, and JoAnn Ross use all
the elements of writing that I’ve mentioned, not just the ones I’ve focused on
in their writing. It is their unique way of interweaving them within the
structure of their stories that constitutes their voices. Their plots are
as varied as their characters and their styles. But the similarities in the
components in their writing are there to discover for anyone who picks up their
books and opens their pages.
Their choice of words, ensures the pacing of their
stories, is always geared toward action, and tactile or visual richness.
Their use of similes or metaphors never leans toward the cliché and always
offers a new and fresh visual clue to the reader. Their characters remain
constant and true to what the reader expects from them. The themes they ribbon
through their story lines create symmetrical connections that complete their
stories. And their abilities to cast sensual, romantic spells that draw
their readers in and capture their imaginations and emotions, through their use
of description, are acknowledged by the success of the books they’ve produced.
Johnny Payne, author of Voice and Style,
paraphrases an idea first penned by Aristotle when he says, “The ability to
imitate, marks the beginning point of art.” As writers, we can
certainly attempt to imitate these writer’s voices. But like so many
Elvis impersonators who have tried to emulate the King, we’d most likely fall
short of the mark.
But by studying their voices, any writer can learn
and perhaps discover the poetic music of an original written
Joanne Rock, Sex and The Single Girl,
Harlequin Blaze, ISBN 0-373-79108-9, 2003, released in ebook, 2010.
Catherine Mann, Strategic Engagement,
Silhouette Intimate Moments, ISBN 0-373-27327-4, 2003, rereleased in ebook 2010.
JoAnn Ross, Out of the Mist,
Pocket Books, ISBN 0-7394-3824-7, 2003, released in ebook 2008.
Johnny Payne, The Elements of Fiction Writing Voice
and Style, Writers Digest Books, ISBN 0-89879-693-8, 1995.
Last night I was on Edin Road Radio and had a blast talking about my books. Jessee V. Coffee the wonderful woman who hosts the show is a friend and is really supportive of authors. This month is Kentucky Indie Writer Month on her show. I read the Prologue from Breaking Through my current about to be completed book. It will be released the end of August the first of September.
I had an absolute blast on Edin Road and will be back in November just to talk and possibly revisit Breaking Through since it will be out by then. Jessee let me talk like a house on fire, God Bless her. Bet she didn't count on me talking like that when I get nervous. I'm hoping next time I'll be a little more relaxed.
If you'd like to listen to the radio interview just click on the link below.
Below is a copy of the blog Edin Radio posted on their blog site. Hope you enjoy it.
Writing About Heroes
My Dad was my hero. He was a Marine for twelve years of my
life and twenty-two years of his. He survived deployments in World War II,
Korea, and Vietnam. He loved the Corps. And lived the Marine Corps slogan, Once a Marine always a Marine.
He died in 2001 of prostate cancer after a three-year
The first book of my SEAL Team Heartbreakers Series, Breaking
Free, gave me an opportunity to work through a great many memories and
feelings I had about his deployments (I was around for the ones in Korea and
Vietnam.) Everything in the first book seems true to life because it is true to
life. Some of the conversations in that book are similar to some my mom and I
have had about our life in the military. Because if you think the man enlisted
is the only one taking cover in a foxhole, he’s not. The family he’s left
behind is right in there with him.
The Second book of the series Breaking Through has much
more to do with what happens when a soldier comes home. PTSD, and the anger
issues that go along with it, are just one heavy piece of the luggage men carry
home after a long deployment. They all experience it. But that isn’t the only
issue the book is about. It’s about Breaking Through those issues and returning
to the life left behind when deployed. And where Breaking Free was Romantic Suspense with only one romance, this one
has much more conflict because it has three romances and a suspense element
going on all at the same time. It’s been a challenge to write, but it’s also
been a joy.
And if you’re wondering if my father suffered from PTSD when
he came home from that last deployment, I have to say yes. Back then they
didn’t have a name for it. But when he left for Vietnam he weighted a hundred
and seventy-five pounds, when he returned he weighed one-thirty. He was of a
generation that didn’t admit or talk about what they had left behind in battle.
But the memories were there on his face and the survivor’s guilt lay trapped in
his heart.He’d seen so many young
men dropped in the jungle with a riffle and a pack and knew more than a few
wouldn’t survive. And he thought
there should have been something he could have done about that.
After my father came home from Vietnam, he retired from the
Marine Corps and went on to earn a degree in Architectural Drafting from the
University of Kentucky.
He worked another twenty-five years before retiring the
second time. But he never stopped being a Marine. He may not have worn the
uniform, but it was in the way he stood and walk, in the code he followed, Semper Fi, and in the way he respected
the service of his fellow soldiers.
I hope I’ve captured some of that in my book. It will be up
to the reader to decide.
I'm going to be doing a radio spot at Edinroad on August 2, 2012 at 6:30 Eastern Time. I'm a little nervous, but I'm sure Jessee Coffee, Radio Host Extraordinaire and Ms. Personality Plus, will make it easy for me. Jessee is great fun and she's been doing this for a while.
Obviously I haven't. But I'm going to give it my best shot. So if you'd like to listen to an excerpt of Breaking Through, my latest Work In Progress, due out tentative date the end of August the first of September, I'd love for you to stop by and check it out.
I'll be reading excerpts and talking about my other books and how this story ties into the first book. This is the second book of the SEAL Team Heartbreakers Series.
What happens when a Navy SEAL wakes
from a month-long coma to discover he’s being investigated for murder?
Ensign Brett Weaver knows he’s innocent,
but how can he prove it with Naval Investigators breathing down his neck? A
chance meeting with reporter Tess Kelly offers him an opportunity to get the
press on his side. But can he trust her to keep his other secrets off the
Tess works hard to live up to her father's
expectations. When Brett offers her information about SEAL training in exchange
for an introduction to her award-winning journalist father, she jumps at the
chance. The situation Brett lobs into her father's lap is a major scoop.
But the secret she discovers about Brett is just as newsworthy. Will her
feelings for this wounded warrior win out, or will she release a story
guaranteed to destroy Brett’s SEAL career?
When Tess’s father is kidnapped,
Brett’s team is deployed to find him. At the same time, a leak in the
investigation puts Tess and Brett’s lives in danger. Will Brett be able to
break through the lasting effects of his injuries and prove he’s once again a
battle-ready SEAL? Or will he and Tess lose everything at the whim of a