Samhain Publishing Ltd. Weblog

Inspiration for Writers by Shelley Munro

Inspiration comes in many forms. Like many writers, I enjoy people watching. One of my all-time favorite things to do is go to the mall, grab a coffee and watch the world pass by. I also enjoy learning new things and trying new experiences, many of which find there way into my writing in some shape or form. My June 2010 release, Seeking Kokopelli came about after my husband and I visited New Mexico and Colorado. I’m currently working on a book set in Yellowstone National Park, which we also visited.

In the last month, I’ve done two new things to add to my experience “bank.”
Our local community has a retirement village. They were holding an open day so I went along to tour the facilities. I actually had a lot of fun learning how retirement villages work and seeing the facilities. My tour ended with free drinks and a meal, which was a bonus, especially since my glass seemed to magically refill.

During the weekend, our local primary school held a gala day. I enjoyed wandering past all the stalls and seeing all the different things they had on offer. I have an idea for a contemporary series and the gala day will work perfectly as part of my plot.

In just under a month, I’m going on a Pacific cruise. I cannot wait! I intend to sign up for a shipboard tour, and I’m sure the knowledge I gain will work its way into a book at some stage. I carry my digital camera everywhere I go and take lots of photos to help me remember the different nuances of any new experiences.

People always ask writers if they write about their own experiences. In my case, I do put a lot of myself into my books, although when it comes to love scenes I’m not telling. I add a little imagination to the things I learn and, hopefully, come up with a book that readers will enjoy.

Shelley Munro lives in New Zealand and writes contemporary and paranormal romance for Samhain Publishing. Her next release is The Bottom Line, which is about a woman who explores the world of spanking and finds love along the way. You can visit Shelley at www.shelleymunro.com

Forgivable Flaws

Reading some of my old rejected pathetic manuscripts—did I mention pathetic?—has lead to me do some thinking about heroes in romances.

A Muse Me by Jenna Bayley-Burke

As the mother of three, one of whom is a twenty-month-old diva who doesn’t want to miss a minute on either side of midnight, I have plenty of time to daydream. Sometimes it’s about a self-cleaning house or a deserted stretch of beach with an ever-full margarita machine, but usually I ponder whatever story I’m trying to get on the page between naptime and after-school pick-up.

I take my characters with me to the gym, the grocery store, doctors’ offices, bakeries – heck I’ll even play with them while I’m stuck in traffic. It’s the everyday things that make characters real to me. It can also put them in some pretty interesting situations.

MSN.com had a headline about exploding toads and WHAM, they found their way into Par for the Course. Thank goodness there was a golf course with a few water hazards, or it might have been awkward. Good Morning America ran a piece about new exercise routines – aerobic striptease, couples yoga…and then The View had someone on talking about using Kama Sutra to reenergize your sex life. The two ideas blended together in my why-won’t-this-child-sleep-through-the-night haze and VOILA, Compromising Positions had a Sensational Sex yoga class — couples yoga to ease the more demanding postures from the Kama Sutra.

Characters drive the story, but having fun is what keeps me writing rather than giving in to the call of the afternoon nap! I looked forward every day to seeing how Ben would handle the toad carnage, how David would deal with Sophie’s advances. Just as I hope the stories keep a reader turning the pages, they kept me writing to see not what would happen next (I had that part plotted out) but how it would unfold.

My next story blossomed in much the same way. I was watching Beauty and the Beast with my boys while cleaning out old college files. I couldn’t seem to let go of any of my notes and papers on Jane Austen and her stories — Elizabeth Bennett and her preconceived notions, Emma Woodhouse and her sheltered devotion to her father. The Beast roared from the television and the boys demanded it be turned off, and so while they turned out attentions to Hot Wheels, my mind spun a story that combined Beauty & the Beast, Emma and Pride & Prejudice. Hey, it happens! It was such a joy to watch Lily’s vision of Jake change from a beastly ogre to a handsome reflection of love. Pride & Passion will be available next week.

Writing takes effort, don’t mistake my enjoyment for sheer entertainment. But even writers can glean entertainment from their work. You never know what might weave its way into a story…you’ve been warned. I can’t be held accountable for being inspired by anything you might say or do!

Jenna has a new ebook releasing next week. Pride & Passion comes complete with a hero used to getting what he wants, a heroine determined not to give in to him, some indecent proposals, a fair amount of pride, and enough passion to burn up everyone’s control.To find out what Jenna is up to …check out her website

The Most With the Time You Have

Saturday afternoon I clocked in, I worked my shift, I signed the confidentiality papers, I clocked out and—it was over. My company officially closed its doors the next day and I became a statistic of the recession. Everyone who heard about the company closing quickly offered their condolences and support. I felt touched, grateful and…guilty.

The first few hours of learning I would no long have a day job, (evil or otherwise), were rough. I had long term plans, including transferring out of state within the network next year. To go on a mini-vacation with not a care in the world on day and come back to know it was all gone five days later, well there are no words and too many of you don’t need words because you’ve lived some variation of it. Knowing the hardship others are experiencing is what makes me feel guilty.

After the first few hours I thought about all my works-in-progress and the sense of loss slowly transformed to a sense of excitement. The current average I’ve been quoted is three months to find a new job in the non-profit sector, for a town this size maybe six. Things will be tight, but doable and that means three to six months of writing full time while I search.

I was among the countless writers that lamented the writing hours lost to the Evil Day Job, (which by default is any job, not matter how rewarding, that is not writing full time). “Oh, if only I could spend the ten hours of work and travel-time writing I could get each WIP done and truly devote myself to my writing.” It’s a phrase I’ve heard and said some variation of numerous times. When we said it I’m sure we were all dreaming of lotto numbers and big advances that let us retire to write, but what we got was a struggling economy and the consequences of living in such. But time is time.

I spent a day writing up a new budget and figuring out ways to tighten our belt. I’ve spent weeks organizing open call deadlines, prioritizing WsIP, (or is WIP its own plural?), and clearing out my writing space. As January became February I was beside myself waiting for the end of the month. By February 23rd I was all but bouncing up and down as the days ticked by. Everyone around me grumbled, railed, ranted or wailed about the coming end while it took everything in me not to clap and holler the final week.

I wouldn’t have chosen this path to much needed writing time, but it’s the one laid out before me and so I’m going to walk it with a smile and enjoyment. We all have to make the most of the time we have while we have it. Goodness knows we need the money I was bringing in, but being depressed and angsty won’t put me back in the workforce a single day sooner. On the other hand, accepting this as exactly what I asked for—a chance to write full time—will get me well ahead on my project list and get more submissions out there for consideration where they belong.

If you’re a writer, every bit of time you get that you complain about is time you could be writing. Waiting in line, at the doctor’s office, during gridlock, picking kids up from practice, waiting to be called for jury duty, and even sudden “redistribution of personnel resources” are all chances to finish what you started or start what you’ve been talking about.

If you’re a reader I don’t have to tell you how to make the most of those times. What I will tell you is that every opportunity to pursue what you love is the right opportunity, even if it’s a stunning one you would have never chosen.

For those of you like me, I wish you the best, and I hope this change is one that reveals a chance for all you’ve ever dreamed about. For those of you still caught in the EDJ, congrats on the steady income, and good luck on taking advantage of every nook and cranny to pursue the dreams we often lose to the daily grind.

To everyone who’s ever wanted anything but thought there wasn’t time, there is. Good Hunting.

~Xakara

The Series Middle Child

The second book in my Unbelievable trilogy released last week and it got me thinking about the middle children in our series. I think the hardest part about writing a series is sustaining the middle books. It’s the same with writing a novel…avoiding the “sagging middle” syndrome. You don’t have the fresh newness of the characters or world. You’ve seen some of this before, so you’re not introducing something fabulously exciting, but you don’t have the resounding finale either.

In that way, I think the middle book(s) are some of the most important. This is the glue that holds everything together. It’s the transition that takes you from new and shiny to poignant closing. It’s not glamorous work, being the glue, but without a good middle, everything falls apart. Maybe that’s why I like the middle in so many series. The Empire Strikes Back in the Star Wars series, The Two Towers in the Lord of the Rings series. Heck, even “Believe in Me” is my favorite in my Unbelievable series.

Then again, maybe it’s because I’m the middle child in my family. I like the middle.

Going for Gold!

So Canada hasn’t beaten Russia in hockey since the 1960’s, at least in the Olympics. Sat down and watched the game tonight, which is totally unlike me, but I couldn’t stop myself. The whole country has been transformed into a wingnut’s paradise and it infected me. That’s my only excuse. I sat there for all three periods and thought that the only thing better than watching the game would have been being there. The stands blood red with jerseys and every throat must have been raw by the end of the game. I know I let out a yell or two myself. Especially when Staal went down.

Alas the writerly life. I have to work during the day to make the money to live out my dreams at the keyboard at night. Working two jobs has been taking its toll lately. That and we’re in the depths of winter up here in the Great White North, without a foreseeable break until late April. It’s like a slump in my training. I needed some get up and go, some serious inspiration! I needed to write this blog! So I slipped away and watched the team with Syd the kid (from my home province, not that I’m overly proud or anything) take Russia to school with a 7-3. And you know what? It was exactly the shot in the arm that I needed. The chapters I’m working on sped through my fingers! I’m excited about getting back to work tomorrow, for both jobs. Heck, I’m just excited and jazzed, right now.

Canada is playing for a medal! It’s our game! Let’s show the world how we bring it when you play on our pond! My heart is racing, I’m pumped for Friday’s game! Come on keyboard, we’ve got some writing to do!

The Thrill of Victory...

The Agony of Defeat. Who remembers this catch-phrase from a weekly network sports presentation in years past?

I’ve been watching a lot of contests lately. The Olympics. American Idol. Survivor. Chopped. I find myself frighteningly able to identify with the participants, though I’ve never skied down a mountain slope, sang in public or cooked for anyone outside my family and friends. Nor have I braved a jungle setting to win a million dollars.

But as I watch the judges whittle the pool of wannabes down to 24 finalists on American Idol, and the ones who didn’t make it break down in tears, I think I totally get where they’re coming from.

The Body as Canvas

One of the things I love about writing is researching interesting occupations, hobbies, and settings for the stories I plan to write. I’ve learned so many interesting things that I never would have come across any other way. Through my research I’ve traveled cross-country on a Harley, I’ve performed magic, I’ve designed erotic jewelry. But I’ve never actually experienced any of them.

Right now I’m working on a story where the hero is an erotic artist and during my research I discovered the awesome art of body painting.

The Masochistic Heroine

I started thinking about masochist heroines not because of any fiction I’d read recently but because of some nonfiction—a book by a woman who’d been one of the multiple wives of a Mormon fundamentalist. She’d spent most of her life in grinding poverty bearing thirteen children and dodging her husband’s murderous relatives. I’m afraid my first reaction to the book was “Why on earth didn’t she leave?” Some of the author’s reasons are understandable—she was the descendant of several generations of polygamists, which made her think that kind of life was normal, and she didn’t really have a way to get herself and her children out of the family compound. But some of them are just incomprehensible. Namely, she swears she loved him.
Now, I write romances—love is my stock in trade. But I have a hard time understanding how you can love a man who marries six other women, is seldom around (because he’s off earning money to support these women and his thirty-plus children), and has little time for affection when he is. Unless, of course, you’re a masochist.

Finding the bright side.

I had equipment malfunction problems this weekend, and wrote a brilliant post about the Death of a Keyboard.

(Goodbye keyboard, you served me well.)

But then last night an email that showed up in my in-box that made my keyboard bit suddenly read more like whining than brilliant sarcasm.

My keyboard of 5 years is dead, but on the 1-5 scale of tragedies it rates about .001. So, no complaining today. Instead I’m going to be thankful.

I am thankful…