30 Days of Write: Day 1
I wrote yesterday. It was 11 sentences, but where that number may be small, my victory was huge, because I wrote. I knew it was going to be tough getting some momentum
going and the residual effects of my infection are being tiring, lethargic beasts, but I wrote and, as it was more than 1 sentence, fulfilled my challenge requirements. (Mama didn’t raise no fools…)
I’m still pretty wiped out today, still have tons of things to do, but you know what? Yup, I’m gonna write again. Those 11 sentences yesterday? Not only were they great for the simple fact that they were written, they’re also fabulous because I turned my hero from something a little beta, a little too nice, into an asshole. Not a raging one, but one who is flawed and has made some very bad decisions. Oh, don’t worry–he’ll pay for them and become a better person in the process, but I’m still going to torture the fuck outta him first. There are no easy love stories in my world.
Bring it on, Day 2.
30 Days of Write: March 2016 edition
First of all, thank you to everybody who voted for me in the #Swoonies2016. I did not make it out of the first round, but it was a total blast being nominated and, knowing Tessa Dare is in the finals? Well, this historical romance writer’s heart is happy and full.
Now, on to business. As you can tell from the title of this blog post, I’m setting up a writing challenge for myself. I’m coming off a nasty respiratory infection, have a epic shit-ton of things to do in March and need another thing on my to-do list like…well, like I need another thing on my to-do list. But I’m going to do it anyway.
Why?
Because I need to. I have to. The idea of a 30 Days of Write challenge (yes, I have one excuse day–we’ll get to that later) is a heavy weight, but I. Have. To.
I know me. Once I get a pace going, I’m damn near unstoppable, the USS Pamela Cayne, but the trick is getting that pace going. I’ve blogged about this before–the whole ‘getting a bicycle‘ going, and it’s still truth. But I’ve got this book…I’ve had this book for a while, all set up and ready to go, but then something happened about 2-3 weeks ago.
It changed.
I was doing some light noodling on it and with one “I wonder if…” turned this book on its fucking ear. It exploded–all kinds of crunchy goodness explosions. Plot points opened before me like I was Hermione with a wand, chemistry sizzled and popped like water thrown on hot oil, choirs of dark and twisty romance angels SANG.
But I have to get going on it, get past this sludge I fell into with my nasty infection and Tons of Other Things. And, it makes me think of one of my favorite philosophies–if it scares the shit out of you, that means you absolutely, positively should write it. I absolutely, positively do not have the time to start a writing challenge, but you can bet your sweet bippy I’m going to do it anyway.
All I have to do is write a sentence a day. 30 sentences and I will have conquered the March 2016 edition of 30 Days of Write. But I know me, if not today, then pretty damn soon I’m going to be writing much more than a sentence. Just like I know my competitive side won’t let me take that day off–30 Days of Write will turn into 31 Days of Fuck Yeah.
Join me if you’d like–I’m hoping to be talking about this on Facebook and Twitter, so if it’s one sentence a day, one photo posted online, one line of knitting on your scarf that’s taunting you, join me. Let’s see where we are on March 31st.
Okay, got two tortured and flawed characters who need to fall in love, got JT’s “Drink You Away” blasting on the iPod, got the best cheerleader in the world in my corner. Time to write.
![never_give_up_never_surrender[1]](https://pamelacayne.files.wordpress.com/2009/10/never_give_up_never_surrender1.jpg?w=495)
#Swoonies2016
Wow. What a Valentine’s Day! First, I wake up to (among other things) a beautiful handmade card from my husband, then I discover I’ve been officially nominated for a Swoonie, Heroes & Heartbreakers’ head-to-head battle for the Swoonworthiest Couple of the Year.
(I wish I could take credit for this stunning graphic, but all of that credit needs to go to the wonderful people at H&H!)
[Ahem. Vote here.]
So what this means? Well, in a basic view, it means some people loved Lady and King enough to nominate them for this tournament, and I can’t tell you how freaking happy that made me. Seriously. I knew Lady and King had an audience, that there were readers out there who would like my kind of dark Victorian romance, and to see that I had reached them was better than a Reese’s peanut-butter cup the size of my head. Now, to be in this tournament with some heavy hitters of historical romance (Tessa Dare in my bracket? Come on!!!) I can only say what has developed into a cliché, but is so very damn true: It is an honor to be nominated.
I mean it. Nobody had to buy my book, nobody had to read it. Nobody had to take the time to write posts or reviews or chat it up on Twitter. Nobody had to take any amount of their precious time and do anything with THE FIGHTER AND THE FALLEN WOMAN and I am well aware of that, so when I say it is an honor to be nominated, it is that, and one that bolsters me to keep writing, to keep living in my dark Victorian world and telling the love stories only I can tell.
So thank you to anybody who has ever bought my book or read it, taken the time to post about it or even reach out to me and tell me you liked it. I cannot tell you how much it all means.
Now, this is by no way a concession post or a faux-humble “Just to be nominated” speech meant to manipulate anybody. I firmly intend to have some fun in promoting the Swoonies, do my best to get into the next round. Profound apologies for the influx of posts to come in the next 4 days, but I’m going to try to make sure you have fun, too.
Starting now.
Vote here.
Some End-of-the-Year Love for THE FIGHTER AND THE FALLEN WOMAN
Hello and Happy 2016! We rung in the new year with black-eyes peas and collard greens (with cheesy grits, of course) and watched Sherlock on PBS. Not necessarily the craziest thing in the world, but some food-inspired luck and the Cumberotter is hard to beat. I hope you and yours had a wonderful holiday season.
December brought me wonderful news for my dark historical romance, THE FIGHTER AND THE FALLEN WOMAN, the first coming from About.com where it was ranked one of The 10 Must Read Romance Novels of 2015. I discovered at that point when people talk about their jaws dropping, it is, in fact, a thing that happens.
Allow me to post a screenshot here (and pardon the squishy graphic, but that’s how it appeared):
The next wonderful news I received was when Wendy the Super Librarian (who gave me this phenomenal review back in March that I still go back to in moments of doubt and it bolsters me) who listed FAFW as one of the 12 Best Not-Your-Usual Historicals of 2015. Since I had a battle even getting my romance some consideration, having it ranked on this list with the likes of Jeannie Lin and Michelle Winningham was worthy of a pretty epic boogie dance party in our living room.
Then, more great news. Heather Waters, site manager for Heroes and Heartbreakers, listed Lady and King as one of her Top 8 ‘Ships (that’s slang for ‘relationships’ with the kids nowadays) of 2015. That honor is huge and meant so much to me, but another couple in her list was Max and Furiosa, from this summer’s blockbuster movie, MAD MAX: FURY ROAD. I cannot even begin to describe what that meant. I loved that movie, really fell in love with the characters and their journey and their flaws and weaknesses and how they overcome them, so to have my Lady and King on a list with them? I’m still in shock. Here’s a snap of that piece of awesome:
If you knew the struggle it was to see FAFW published, the years of knowing I was fighting such an uphill battle for the kind of story I wanted to tell, but I had to tell it like I had to breathe, you would know what amazing honors each and every one of these listings are. Not from contests I entered, or even reviews I solicited, they came from people who picked up the book and read it but, more importantly, they got it. I knew there would be readers who wanted stories like Lady’s and King’s and I thank whatever force it was in the ‘verse that got my book in front of them. If you’re one of them, I thank you too.
So, thank you 2015, for seeing THE FIGHTER AND THE FALLEN WOMAN published and getting it out to some great people. I’m working on my next dark Victorian romance and hope to have some great news during the year to make 2016 a worthy successor.
Happy New Year everybody.
Eggnog and Holiday Movies
Howdy.
So here’s the good news–I got a new job. It’s actually a great job and I find myself thinking that jobs don’t necessarily have to equal stressful soul-sucking horror filled with passive-aggressive dickheads and people who get paid way too much and given way more power than they ever deserve.
Sorry. Might still be working through a few issues with the past job. Ahem. Now, onward…
But the good news of the great job also means my time is being taken up more so than usual as I settle into the new job and the new commute and new everything else, and on top of that, it’s the holidays! I do love the holidays, especially Christmas, but my biggest gift this year is going to be some time.
Time to relax, time to recharge, time to read and drink tea and watch traditional holiday movies.
(And I haven’t even mentioned Star Wars…)
Anyhoozles, I’m going to try and do a Christmas post, but for right now know I’m getting geared up in my day job and writing my next dark Victorian romance (and damn, is it good if I say so myself…) and taking a few minutes here and there to listen to the Charlie Brown Christmas soundtrack and drink eggnog.
Happy almost Christmas.
Sliding into the finish–NaNoWriMo
It’s November 30th. To many of you, that means you’re finishing NaNoWriMo, be it popping some celebratory beverage because you’ve already hit 50,000 words, or you’re still sprinting like a mother-fucker, aiming for that magic number anytime before 11:59 p.m. tonight. I am cheering you all on, if you wrote one word, or 50,001. More importantly, YOU should be cheering yourself, even if you didn’t get one of these:
Here’s why–you wrote. No, I’m serious–you wrote. That is something not everybody can or will do, and the fact that you sat down and wrote–one word or 50,001–means you deserve cheers, little certificates of awesomeness and every high-five in the world, so celebrate your writing no matter what your final word count is. And, I want to leave you with one final sentiment I read today (and sorry I didn’t get the author, because this is gold)–if you hit your goal, if you didn’t, keep writing. Your words don’t know what month it is.
I Am A Failure.
“If you don’t fail, you’re not reaching very high.”
And yeah, you’re going to see a lot more from Temple of Art. I might have found a new religion.
Falling in Love With Your Characters
“I think it all comes back to the core idea of grounding your characters in an emotional reality that the audience can relate to. And if you can do that, it gives you license to have tremendous amounts of fun and wink at the audience in a way that doesn’t make them feel like they’re being patronized. We’re all taking it as seriously as we would take a heavy drama. And that tone is critical because you are asking the audience to suspend its belief and you are asking them to jump into this world and say ‘it’s crazy, but it’s totally real’. So hopefully when you’re watching the show, the reaction the audience is having is ‘yes it’s crazy, but man if I were in that situation I think I’d probably be reacting the same way’. If we can get the audience to that place, then they will accept anything. I think that’s our job as screenwriters in anything that we do – we’re asking the audience to suspend disbelief and to go on an emotional ride and to say ‘I accept the reality of this world. Even though it couldn’t possibly happen actually, I’m in it, I believe it, and I feel like it’s happening.’
But mostly it’s about letting your inner kid play around and have fun and be wide-eyed in wonder and experience awe and experience the joy of story twists and turns and fall in love with characters…and if we feel like we can genuinely make that happen, then we say yes. But it’s a process for us in that we have to really believe we can do that. Otherwise it’s not worth the time, because it will be painful for people who loved it to feel it didn’t meet their expectation and it will be painful for us because we don’t want to be the guys who did that to anybody. Especially to ourselves.”
~Alex Kurtzman, as quoted in Creative Screenwriting’s A Year in Quotes series
Now, your first question is probably who the heck is Alex Kurtzman? Short answer is he’s the co-creator of FRINGE, co-writer of STAR TREK, TRANSFORMERS and COWBOYS & ALIENS. He’s done a lot of other writing, a lot of producing and was the executive producer of THE PROPOSAL. Yes, Alex Kurtzman gave Betty White center stage. Let’s just say when Mr. Kurtzman gives advice, I’m listening hard.
I loved the first part of his quote as I’m a fan of Michael Hauge and his whole thing is about eliciting emotion from the reader (audience). Thinking of emotion as a way to ask your reader to suspend disbelief and jump into your world is a great way to put it, and well worth some ceiling gazing in the future, but the gold here is this line: But mostly it’s about letting your inner kid play around and have fun and be wide-eyed in wonder and experience awe and experience the joy of story twists and turns and fall in love with characters…and if we feel like we can genuinely make that happen, then we say yes. That, my friends, is the blue ribbon. Read it again. Read it out loud. See where your voice naturally stresses a word and pay attention to those beats. Feels good, doesn’t it?
Thank you, Mr. Kurtzman.
So, How Was Your Summer?
Here it is, the first day after Labor Day. I don’t care what anybody says, today is the first day of fall. I’m not going to get into what the weather is or should be, just harkening back to the first day back to school being this day, and school=fall, so there ya go. First day of fall also means summer’s over. I hope yours was lovely and everything summer should be. Me? Oh, well I went to a baseball game or two…
Went to the lake…
And met some fun new people… 😉
I also wrote three books, which is why I wasn’t blogging that much. I’m not going to say much about them now because I am a bit superstitious and don’t want to jinx anything, but I really love them all and am keeping my fingers crossed.
Okay, that much writing means lots of other fun stuff that goes with it, so on to that to-do list. I’m thinking of some fun posts about other summer vacation stuff (including lots of excited swears and squees over Mad Mad: Fury Road) so promise to get those up soon. Until then, happy first day of fall.
THE FIGHTER AND THE FALLEN WOMAN’s week-a-versary
So, THE FIGHTER AND THE FALLEN WOMAN has been out in the world for a week now, and I can’t tell you how tickled I’ve been (and still am!) seeing it out and about. To celebrate FAFW’s week anniversary, I want to share the first scene with you, introduce everybody to Lady and King. Hope you enjoy!
Chapter One
London, 1883
In the twelve years Lady had been a mistress, a bangtail and a whore, she had never been afraid of a man’s kiss. Dockworkers with missing teeth, boys who didn’t know enough to open their mouths, bastards who turned what should have been something sweet into something ugly, she’d faced them all and earned her coin. This man before her now was something she’d never experienced—a man she wanted to touch her. The thought scared her worse than her first time.
“Pet, give the gent a proper kiss for luck,” her protector ordered with a naughty grin. “You want King to be lucky and win now, don’t you?”
Lady pushed her fear down with an ease born of practice and gave the men a sultry smile. “Of course I do, Mr. Adams, though I don’t think luck is going to have anything to do with it,” she said, eyeing the fighter from head to toe and back again. “This man has let you show once again that you own the very best, another champion to join me under the Adams name.” She leaned close and whispered in his ear, “Though I prefer to be under you all by myself.” She sucked his lobe between her lips, giving it a soft nip, and his throaty laugh sealed a moment’s safety to look at another man. To look at this man.
Framed by the timber and brick of the St. Katharine’s Warehouse, the walls glowing a hellish red in the flickering gas lamps, King looked like a mercenary kicked out of hell. He stood a few inches taller than she did, the two of them on opposite sides of six feet, and his square face was unremarkable except for the imperfection of a broken nose and what a gypsy woman she’d once visited called “eyes of an old soul.” He was dressed like a stevedore in his black boots, wool pants and faded blue shirt, and like somebody who worked on the docks, had the muscled physique to show for it. He wasn’t necessarily handsome, not in a traditional way at least, but Lady had never been attracted to the pretty men. She’d always felt drawn to the ones who looked like they’d been brawling since before drawing breath, broken and scarred. King fit that image and, more than once, Lady had wondered how she’d fit King.
Ever since that night almost three years ago when he’d helped her gain her balance as her broken ribs caused her to stumble on that last stair, and then whispered, “Willow bark. It’ll ease the pain,” Lady had discovered this newest bruiser of her protector’s had kindness tempered with his strength. Now, after years of keeping their touches to a hand into a carriage or an elbow on a slippery patch of wet cobblestone, she was being asked to perform one of the most intimate acts two people could share with this man she pictured when Mr. Adams fell asleep beside her. A kiss sounded so simple, but it would be safer to offer a drunk a fine brandy and then ask him to pass over the rest of the bottle. She felt herself looking at King’s lips as if a drop of that brandy still clung there.
“I do own the very best, indeed I do.” Mr. Adams clapped his hands and the sound was consumed by the crowd reacting to the introduction of the fighters. It snapped Lady out of her thoughts and allowed her to collect new ones. If she didn’t get her head back in Mr. Adams’s game, she’d pay a painful price later. “But I figure it can never hurt to have a little extra luck on your side, eh? But mind yourself it’s a little, King, not a lot. Where a bigger kiss might mean bigger luck, it’d also mean I would have to fight you myself.” Mr. Adams shook a finger at King in a joking manner, but there was no doubt that if King got too friendly with Lady without Mr. Adams’s permission, the joke would be over.
Mr. Adams pulled Lady close with one arm around her waist, his hand lightly grasping her hip. His head reached only to her shoulder, yet unlike most men, he seemed to enjoy having her tower over him, her blond curls tangling around his neck. He often said so before he tossed up her skirts.
“Now, Mr. Adams, no fighting your best man.” Lady managed a throaty laugh while she slid her arm around her protector’s shoulders. “You want him to be in the best possible form for tonight, don’t you?” She looked at King and waited for him to act his part in this little drama. She’d managed to play her role. The last thing she needed was Mr. Adams to be in a temper because King didn’t play his. Lady could act blasé about the kiss she was scared to give, but it would be so much easier for both of them if King said his lines. Yes, he was a powerful fighter and Mr. Adams liked that King was always winning, but winning was nothing without adoration. If King didn’t bring in money and make Mr. Adams smile while doing it, he would be killed. Lady woke every morning knowing that same fate could be hers if she didn’t keep Mr. Adams happy. Very happy.
King cracked a smile and Lady felt herself slump with relief. To cover her gaffe, she turned in Mr. Adams’s arms, trailed her finger down her protector’s chest and cocked her head coquettishly at King.
“Have no worries, miss. I’m set to win tonight, especially with such good luck in my corner.” He inclined his head toward her.
“Yes, you are.” Mr. Adams pointed a stubby finger at King, his whole manner suddenly more intense. Lady prayed it was merely excitement for the fight. “You’re going to win this tournament of mine and be crowned toughest bloke in the world.”
Lady beckoned to the betting man with a wave of her hand, hoping to return Mr. Adams to a more relaxed state. “If King says he’s going to win tonight, then I’m calling that a guarantee. And if I know Mr. Adams, he would say such a guarantee is worth wagering on.
“Five pounds on King to win,” she told the betting man and reached into the neckline of her dress for the bill. She took the scrip he gave her and tucked it back into the same place with some extra patting and smoothing.
“Aw, pet, spending your hard-earned blunt on my fighter? That means a lot to me, it does.” Lady simply waited for what was next. “Of course, you earned it after I spent my hard-earned blunt on you.” He finished with a braying laugh, thrusting his hips against her thigh.
Lady looked both coy and wicked, like she was supposed to. She stole a glance at King and saw his face harden before he forced an appreciative laugh. There was a part of her, perhaps the blushing girl she never was, that always felt a brief thrill that this man cared enough to be outraged on her behalf. The woman she’d become took that thrill and buried it in the same grave as the blushing girl. King had the strength to protect her and, more importantly, she felt deep down that he cared for her enough to want to do so, but for him to take any action greater than he already had would have terrible consequences. A gentle hand to support her, a handsome face to picture in the dark—that would have to be it. Anything else was too dangerous. She was a rich man’s mistress and he was a rich man’s thug, and the two did not mix.
“Thank you for your confidence, miss.” King took a step backward. “Mr. Adams, I need to go be announced. That is, if you don’t need me for anything else.”
“No, you’re fine. I know most everybody here.” He opened his coat to show the slim, leather-wrapped handle of a knife he wore at his waist when he went out. “I’ve got this if somebody gets too close, and that’s if they even get past Shade.” Mr. Adams jerked his head toward the shadows and Lady watched King follow with his eyes. She could tell when he spotted Mr. Adams’s other bruiser. He looked back at Mr. Adams, and Lady watched King’s face tighten, his shoulders pull back as though standing at attention, and she felt something icy crawl in her belly without even having to look at Mr. Adams.
“But if it’s not too much trouble to ask,” her protector said slowly, “it would make me feel better if you got that lucky kiss.”
She’d only heard that tone in her protector’s voice once before and the sound of it still caused her breath to seize, her ribs to ache. The injury had long since healed, yet her deepest fears knew that one brought about the other. King may not face the same fears, but she couldn’t chance that Mr. Adams would find new ones for both of them if they kept refusing.
“Perhaps you have found your fighter’s secret, Mr. Adams.” Lady had been trying for lightly mocking, though truth be told, she was just happy her voice didn’t tremble. “He’s scared to kiss a girl.”
“Trust me, King, this lady’s kiss is sweet. Nothing to be frightened of at all,” Mr. Adams said and chuckled in a moment of shared masculine appreciation. Except King didn’t look like he appreciated anything. He looked like he fought everything, from the invisible tether Mr. Adams held to the dreams he had at night.
She wouldn’t let him fight her, though, no matter how scared she was to do this. She stepped up to King, putting Mr. Adams at her back and out of her mind. “Come, King, it’s only a kiss,” Lady said, deliberately pitching her voice low. She would give the kiss and pray her trembling barriers would hold, keep her safe against the desire to close her eyes, breathe in his scent, and feel for one moment that a fighter and a fallen woman had a future together.
“Lady, you should know when it comes to you, it’s never only anything,” he whispered so that only she could hear. “It’s everything.”
Lady braced herself for a deeper look into King’s eyes and saw flecks of gold in the brown, a fading bruise ringing his left, and a wariness that matched hers. Beneath all that was a cold, empty place, but she couldn’t tell if it was his or a reflection of hers. She quickly lowered her eyes, praying he hadn’t seen anything tonight other than a reluctant whore. With a quick intake of breath, Lady glanced at King’s mouth, closed her eyes and pressed her lips to his.
Warmth. Protection. Life. Lady could taste it on his lips, could feel it pulse around him like fire. For an instant, her entire body was flooded with heat and she longed to throw herself into it, knowing he would catch her and hold her close, protecting her from the flames while making her burn. It made her reach out, her fingers fluttering in the hidden recess between them, and she felt his hand already there, straining between sense and desire. He grabbed her hand only for an instant, but it was long enough to brand his touch on her skin before he let go.
Lady pulled back and her eyes drifted open, her held breath slipping from her mouth and into his. King was right. This would never be only a kiss.
Pamela Cayne 