Editing an Old Friend - Cupid's Mistake

Almost done proofreading the scanned copy of Cupid's Mistake so that I can republish it as an e-book.

I haven't read it in years, and so I can edit with a good amount of detachment and objectivity. It feels, oddly, as if someone else wrote it, not me.  The good thing is that I believe it's a solid story. The bad thing is that part of me wonders whether I can write as well again after not writing a full-length novel for almost a decade.

I'd like to test the waters by entering some RWA contests, but I think because they won't let previously published authors enter unpublished work unless they've not been published for five years (my last novella--not a full-length novel--was published in 2010), I have to wait a total of 11 years before I can enter an unpublished work in one of those contests.

Yeah, I know, I should just write a new one and put it out there.  But times--and styles--change. I, personally, like my writing style, because the rhythm of it falls well on my inner ear. However, I am not so certain younger, more modern, ears are tuned to such sounds any more, if that makes any sense. As a result, I'd like to test the waters via a contest before I put a book out there.  But, I don't really want to wait more years to test the waters.

That said, it's nice revisiting the Hathaway family in Cupid's Mistake.  The Hathaways are a loving family--a bit eccentric, but all of them kind-hearted.  Even the matchmaking Lady Hathaway--ever ambitious for her children--is there with a hug and a shoulder to cry on should her children need it. There are a lot of dysfunctional families in novels, even in romance novels, and I've written more than a few of them. But the Hathaways are, I think, one of the few who are simply nice, caring people.  And that does make me happy.  It's like visiting old friends, and good-hearted friends at that.  :-)

Happy St. Patrick's Day! An excerpt from the Work In Progress

Happy St. Patrick's Day!  I'm not Irish, but I'll gladly tip my hat to a population that has had significant influence in American history.  I've always had a fascination with Ireland, so much so that I've been working on and off on a fantasy historical novel set in that beautiful land.  As a result, to salute the day, I'm posting an excerpt from the story below.  My goal is to finish writing the story by the end of this year, so that I can get it published in ebook form by St. Patrick's Day next year.  Wish me luck (of the Irish, of course)!

* * * *

Ireland, 1798

Mary Kate McCree closed and latched the shutters against the rising wind.  It was a wolf wind, and no good ever came from such weather.  It whined around the corners of their cottage like a sick dog, but as the night crept to its zenith, she knew it would howl like a wolf on the hunt.  She pulled her woolen shawl closer about her, but it did nothing to stop her sense of foreboding. Her mother and her grandmother had told her of such a wind.  Evil was coming soon, and there would be little stopping it, if Mary Kate's sense of it was right.

Her sister looked up from where she bent close to the candle at the table near the hearth.  “It’s not yet night, Mary Kate.”  But a quick shudder shook her shoulders.

“And that’s not a shiver I’m seeing, Rose?” Mary Kate teased.  Even she could hear her own voice falter in the midst of the teasing.

Rose pressed her lips together for a moment, bending her attention to her embroidery.  “Leave it shut, then.”  She cast a quick glance at her older sister.    “The...the wind is different.”

Trust her little sister to be sensitive to it, even though she had not the training.  Mary Kate’s heart ached.  She would not wish the sensitivity she’d been gifted with at birth on anyone, for it set one apart.  Though she was from an ancient line of wise women in the village of Baile an Faolchú, the deference given that position...set her apart.

A wail curled around the whining wind, then turned to a shrieking cry.  Rose started and dropped her stitchery, and then gazed at Mary Kate.  “The bahn sidhe,” she said, her voice frightened.  “Where is our Ryan?”

Terror seized Mary Kate’s heart at the spirit’s warning of death, but the door burst open, and her sandy-haired brother ran into the room.  “Wolfe Tone’s dead.  Curse the damned British, for they’ve killed the last hope we had.”

“Dear Mother of God.”  Fear and anger forced Mary Kate to her feet, crossing herself as she did so and sending up a quick prayer for the brave leader of the rebellion who had sought to bring all Irish together in cooperation against the English.  “Never tell me you were with the United Irish, brother, for I’ll have your head as quick as the English if you were.”  She hurriedly went to the door, and shut and latched it, but not before she looked quickly outside, casting her gaze around the front yard and twilight-dim landscape beyond the gate.  “And hush your voice!  Do you wish to bring ruin to us?  The English have ears, and if they do not, who knows on what whim the Peep o’ Day boys will decide to string you up themselves?  Or the Defenders, for that matter?”  She closed her mouth on her next words, casting a glance at Rose’s anxious face.  No need to speak of their own fate, should they be caught between warring gangs and English troops.

Ryan’s face reddened in both anger and embarrassment.  “What’s left of the two, you mean, for we’re all one Irish now.”  He paused, clearly trying to rein in his temper. “My apologies, sister,” he said stiffly, but there was an edge of impatience in his voice.  Mary Kate held his gaze and made a slight movement of her head toward Rose. His gaze softened; Ryan had an impetuous temper, but equally fierce was his love for family. He would not wish to upset his younger sister.

“I was not,” he said.  “You’ve warned me enough as it is--‘tis a right nag you are, after all.”

Kate let out a sigh.  “Good, then,” she said.  She cast another glance at Ryan.  Though he looked at her straight and with some defiance, and though she was sure he was not lying to her, she could not help feeling uneasy.  There was the cry of the bahn sidhe, after all--

But it was upon Wolfe Tone’s death, and not anything to do with her brother, surely.  Indeed, why wouldn’t a bahn sidhe cry out at the death of a man with the great aspiration of throwing off the oppression of the English?

As impossible as that must be.  There was never peace in a large Irish household, and Ireland was a large household indeed. She suppressed a grimace.  In a grim way, it was almost a blessing to have one less revolutionary influencing a seventeen year old boy to war.

“Have you eaten, Ryan?” Rose asked.  “There’s stew in the pot, still hot, and a good oat cake.”
The sullen look on Ryan’s face disappeared, and his eyes brightened.  “Aye, I’ve a little bit at Fiona’s house, but I could do with more.”

Rose grinned.  “I think it’s the fourth time this month you’ve dined with Fiona and her mother.  You must be careful you do not eat them out of house and home, brother.”  She rose from her chair and went to the hearth where the pot of stew sat, picking up a bowl and ladle on the way.  Mary Kate could see her grimace as she poured the stew—it was soup more than stew, and watery at that, but it was more than what many of their neighbors had.

“Mrs. McKinnon has said naught.”  He waved a dismissive hand at Rose.  “Besides, I caught a brace of pheasants and gave one of them to them, so they shall not go without a meal.”

“Pheasant?”  Alarm coursed through Mary Kate.  “Never tell me you were hunting on Faolchú land?”

Ryan shrugged.  “The old lord is dead--bad cess to him--and the steward does not look too closely at what a man might bag.  By rights we McCrees should be free to hunt as we wish on that land.”

“English lord,” Mary Kate said.  “Should his heir hear of your poaching, you’ll have the soldiers at our door.”

Ryan grunted a quick grace over the spoon of stew he already had in his hand and then quickly stuffed the stew in his mouth.  “It matters not what we do, we will have soldiers at our door,” he said after swallowing his spoonful, and shrugged.  “I might as well be strung up for feeding those who need it as anything else.”

“Stop, Ryan!  Never say such a thing!” Rose cried.  She clutched her embroidery, then shook her hand before sucking on a pricked finger.

“Silly goose.”  Ryan sopped up the dregs of his stew with his oat cake, and then stood up and took his empty bowl to the washing bucket.  He stretched and his eyes went to the door and the bag he had thrown there.  "Oh, the pheasant--I brought the other home for us."

"Well, give it over,"  Mary Kate replied, irritated.  "Since you brought it, we should use it soon, as it wouldn't do to have anyone see it hanging about."  She took the bag from  him and opened it.  It was a plump pheasant, clearly one that had fed on Faolchú land.  It'd feed the three of them for the next few days in a stew if they were careful.  She hung the bag up away from the hearth; she would pluck it tomorrow. A recurrence of the Great Freeze was ever a worry, and it had already become cold enough to have ruined some of their potatoes.  However, she had a good lot that hadn't been touched by bad weather, and had been careful to put the good ones by in the earth cellar.   She'd heard enough of the Freeze from the elders in the village to be cautious, and it was her training to put away food and herbs and other simples.

She allowed herself a satisfied smile.  Though Ryan was correct saying that the McCrees had a birthright to the Faolchú land, it was not a right the ruling English agreed they had.  Nevertheless, her great-great-grandfather had managed to retain a small portion of the land from Cromwell’s forces over a hundred and fifty years ago, and her great-great-grandmother and her descendants had kept it from English hands by wit and guile.  Indeed, they had prospered compared to many, for they had enough land to keep sheep for good fleece, goats for milk, and grow more than potatoes.  Should the animals survive the winter, they would surely have enough spun yarn and cheeses to sell and buy more chickens in the spring.  That would be a fine thing, indeed.

She went to the hearth and sat next to Rose, and picked up the sturdy woolen socks she was knitting for Ryan.  She thought of the elderly English earl who never saw fit to step foot in Ireland but a day or so, much less the land he owned.  It was just as well; his absence made it easier for the McCrees to continue holding the land they had.  She hoped the new master of Castle Faolchú would do the same.  The last thing they needed were more English, and the truth of it was, the man's neglect would benefit both her family and the next landowner of Castle Faolchú.  She thought of the failed rebellion and shuddered. God help us, no more English, no more Irish factions pitted against each other. Just leave us alone.

Mary Kate found Rose looking at her anxiously, and though she gave her sister enough of a reassuring smile that the girl attended her embroidery again, she made herself pay attention to the sounds in and about their cottage as she knitted.  The rhythmic clicking of knitting needles focused her senses; she could separate the sounds within and without.  There was the crackling of the fire, the first scrape of a bow over Ryan’s fiddle, and then a fine sweet tone.  Soon, Rose began to hum, and her fine clear voice sang the words of a love song.  Beneath it all were the whispers of air that floated and swirled between the fire’s warmth and the cold draft from the door.  And beyond the door—

The wolf wind began to howl, and the faint weeping of the Bahn Sidhe sang a dissonant chorus.  Mary Kate closed her eyes, suddenly weary, and prayed that no one was out long in the rising storm.  The Sidhe did not only wail for Wolfe Tone.

* * * *

James Marstone pushed back the hair that had come loose from his queue, pushed his hat more firmly onto his head, and urged his ride forward.  He half wondered if it had been a bad decision to come to see the land he’d inherited from his great-uncle, for he had heard of the unrest and growing rebellion of the Irish.  But the soldiers he'd met before embarking for Ireland had assured him the rebellion was now over, and he was well-armed with both sword and pistol.  He grimaced.  He now wished he had paid more attention to the newspapers than he had in the past few years, but he had not time for things that--he had thought--would not concern him, for he had thought he’d stay on his family’s estate and work as its steward into old age.  He hadn’t expected that he’d have an estate of his own.

He had also not expected he’d be as sick as a dog crossing over the sea, that carriages for let were suddenly unavailable at each inn he entered, and that the only animal he could find for transport was an ill-trained donkey that insisted on investigating every promising-looking piece of green vegetation along the road.  But duty was duty, and it was a bad landlord who didn’t take stock of what he owned and those who worked it on his behalf.  Besides, he’d already spent five years managing the estate of his older brother, and as a very ordinary member of an unusual family, it was the one thing he took pride in, that he excelled in land management, and so he itched to manage property of his own at last.  Never mind that it was in Ireland; land was land, and that it was supposedly poor land he’d inherited was merely a challenge.

A spit of rain hit his nose, but he ignored it.  He looked into the distance.  It was growing dark, but the last innkeeper had grudgingly told him that Castle Falcoe lay near the village of Baileyanfalcoe; he’d not be far from it if he passed the McCree cottage.  And he’d know the cottage by the fine slate roof instead of the usual thatch.

Well, the sky was darkening with approaching night and clouds, but if the sharp edges of the roof on the house in the distance was an indication, he was approaching said McCree cottage, and beyond that would be the village and then at last his destination.  With luck, the steward—Mr. Kilpatrick—would have the servants ready a warm fire and a decent meal, and then he could rest his weary bones in a well-mattressed bed.

The thought of physical comfort made him nudge the donkey more firmly than ever with his heels, but the animal only grunted and plodded faster for the length of a few feet before it settled back into a slow trudge.  A sudden uptake of wind buffeted him, and nearly tossed his hat from his head, but he seized it just before it flew entirely from his grasp.  Rain took the opportunity to slash his face with freezing cold before he could slam his hat on his head again.

The donkey did not pick up speed.  James gritted his teeth.  Was the damned beast insensible to cold?  Surely it wanted a warm stable as much as James wanted a warm bed.  He glanced at the cottage ahead of him; he could see light through the cracks in the shutters covering the windows.  Someone was within—someone who was enjoying more warmth and food than he was enjoying now, which was none at all.  He looked into the dark distance, the road ahead hardly discernible from the horizon now that the clouds had wholly overtaken the evening sky.  The castle was but a few more miles from where he was now, but there was no guarantee the idiot donkey would stay on the path without a strong guiding hand.  He had the hand; however, he did not have the guidance of familiarity with the landscape.

James looked again at the cottage now not far from the road.  He’d get little welcome there, if the attitude of the innkeepers he’d met were any indication of Irish sentiment toward an Englishman.  But he could not help noticing that there were few plump Irishmen, and he’d heard the McCrees were an old and honorable family.  If they were as poor as the rest of the Irish he’d seen, perhaps they would put up with an Englishman if he paid them well.

He turned the donkey toward the path that led to the cottage, and perhaps the animal sensed that food and warmth were closer than anticipated, for it picked up speed with alarming alacrity, nearly unseating him in its haste.

The donkey came to a halt in front of the cottage door, snuffling around the entrance as if looking for food, and James quickly dismounted and tied it to a post before the animal decided to leave with his saddlebags still attached.  He hesitated before knocking at the door, for he could hear music within: a fiddle and the sound of a young woman’s voice lifted in song.  But the wind now howled and forcefully pushed him toward the door.  It was worth trying, certainly.  He lifted the door knocker and rapped twice.  The music stopped mid-phrase.

The door opened, and a young male face peered out.  “Aye?  And who are you, sir?”

“James Marstone of Suffolk—Mr. McCree, I presume?  I have been traveling for a long while and—”

“English!  We’ll have no damned English here.  You’ll do us a favor if you dirtied our doorstep no longer than a minute, sir.”  The door slammed in his face.

James clenched his teeth and felt his face grow hot with anger.  Then he sighed.  He should have expected such.  There was nothing for it but to push on.

“Ryan!”  A scandalized female voice rose above the wind that began to howl around the corners of the house.  “Are you daft?  Can you not hear the wind?  ‘Tis a storm a-brewing, and leaving anyone out in it would be the death of them.”

He paused, pulled between hope and doubt that he’d be welcome once the woman—young, he thought, from the sound of her voice—learned of his origins.  The donkey next to him snuffled at the door again and let out a whinny that sounded very much like a whine.  He felt a sudden sympathy for the animal, and patted its head.  “Let’s hope the lady feels less of a prejudice than her relative, Sir Donkey.”  He leaned toward the door, listening.

“It’s an Englishman, Mary Kate.  I’ll not have one of them in this house, by God.”

The lady’s voice rose.  “Will you listen to yourself, then?  You’re swearing by the Almighty that you’ll not let an Englishman in our home, but I’m thinking Father O’Brian will have a thing or two to say about letting a fellow human being die of cold when it’s your turn in the confessional.  Englishman or not, I’ll thank you to be a true McCree and not tarnish our reputation for hospitality, boyo.”

“But what if the—”

“Whisht!  Stop your nonsense.  All of Baille an Faolchú knows anyone who comes in courtesy to our door is not turned away, and so we are treated in return.  So it has been since McCrees have been in this land, English or no English.”

The door suddenly opened before James could straighten himself, and he came face to face with a pair of large eyes, a tip-tilted nose lightly covered with freckles, and a mass of wavy dark hair.  The eyes widened in surprised, then slitted in suspicion.  “Listening at the door, were you?  I’m half inclined to think my brother was in the right of it.”  But she pushed the door open wider.  “Well, you’re in luck, for he isn’t right, and English or not, I won’t have a frozen corpse at the door for the authorities to find in the morning.”

He hesitated, but she seized his coat sleeve and pulled him in.  “It’s little enough fuel we have to heat the house, so I’ll thank you not to let what warmth we have leave on the wind.”

Happy Halloween! It's Heeeerrrre!

Yep, at last The Vampire Viscount is available as an ebook. It's been a long time since that book has seen light (so to speak) and as I went through it to clean out the OCR scan errors, I remembered it was controversial at the time (1995), and now we have vampires and werewolves everywhere, but I think it still holds up as a decent story.

 It's free, today only, at Smashwords.  And since I also honor All Saints Day (the day after Halloween), you can still get it free on that day, too.  All device formats are supported there--Kindle, Sony, Nook, etc.

It's also up at Amazon, although not free (99 cents). I think you have to join Kindle Select or something to change the price to zero or something, and I'm still working out the details on that.

Barnes and Noble...It will be up there, too, but the site that produces the ebooks has technical difficulties, and since I believe B&N is based in New York, it may well be that Hurricane Sandy is causing them some problems. If you are a Nooker (why does that sound so...hmmm.....) and can't find the ebook for download, e-mail me and I'll see if I can make it available to you at a special price after Halloween.

Anyway, enjoy!

Miss Carlyle's Curricle Available as eBook!

Signet is releasing many of their previously out-of-print Regencies in ebook form out of their Intermix "imprint."  (Is it really an imprint if it's not printed?  Hmm....the new dynamics of the ebook world....)  Today, my book, Miss Carlyle's Curricle is available at Penguin's Intermix site, for Apple iBooks, Barnes and Noble's Nook, Sony eReader, and Amazon's Kindle, among others.  I'm happy to say that it's available at the very affordable price of $2.99.

Want to read an excerpt?  Here it is, below:

Lord Brisbane ran his hand over a curve of the carriage in a contemplative manner. He glanced at her. “I understand this McKinney has been in your uncle’s employ for many years.” It was a statement, but with just a hint of a question in it.

Diana frowned. “If you are thinking of blaming McKinney for my uncle’s accident or of discharging him from his post, I would advise against it. The man has been employed here since my uncle was a very young man, and his service has been loyal and faultless. Indeed, he felt most deeply regarding the accident and proffered his resignation, which I refused to consider.”

Lord Brisbane glanced at her. “You?”

She blushed lightly; it was not her place to accept or decline a servant’s employment unless it was her own, personal, servant. “McKinney was distraught, and Uncle Charles had said more than a few times that my word was as good as his when it came to the stables,” she said stiffly. “If you must know, I directed him to Sir James, thinking he would be the heir.”

“Ah.”

That was all he said, an unassuming sound, but it made her very conscious that she had presumed, and presumed wrongly. “Sir James will not have discharged him, I am sure,” she said.

“Mmm hmm,” he said, gazing at her thoughtfully.

Diana shifted her feet uncomfortably. “I am sure McKinney is about somewhere. You may speak to him yourself.”

“Is he?”

“But of course. I saw him—” She stopped and realized she had not seen McKinney lately. “Surely Sir James did not....”

“There may be some other explanation for why McKinney is not here,” Lord Brisbane said.

Diana made herself look at him, but she could not hold his gaze long, for remorse hit her hard. “I have presumed a great deal,” she said. “And I was wrong to do so. I...I apologize.”

“Yes,” he replied, but there was no censure in his voice. She felt a finger under her chin and she stared at him. He smiled slightly. “Come, cousin, it is no tragedy. Let us be frank: I well know that your uncle’s wish that we wed was unexpected, and highly unusual. Would it be less awkward for you to know that I had no knowledge of it? I met your uncle only a year ago, when he first found me, and because of business our subsequent meetings were infrequent. Had I known of the conditions, I would have protested, of course. I am not certain why he decided we should suit, but he did, and made it nearly impossible for you not to comply.”

“Mama said it was perhaps the closest he could come to giving me the estate...he thought of me as a daughter, almost a son, I think.” His hand left her chin, and she looked down at her hands, then up at the earl again. “Then, too, perhaps he thought it the best way to take care of me and my mother.”

“I wonder, then, that he did not give you a larger annuity.”

She shook her head. “Uncle Charles was never one to reveal his reasons, and we had never real cause to ask, for our lives had always run smoothly while he was with us. I am sure everyone on the estate thought so.”

“Which makes me seem very much the interloper, I see,” Lord Brisbane said, smiling wryly. “Making it even more difficult to see me as a prospective husband and heir to the estate.”

Diana felt definitely guilty now, but made herself look directly at him. “Yes, that is true, and I am sorry for it. My uncle was held in highest esteem by everyone; it would be difficult to accept the presence of any heir, but to have a complete stranger makes it even more difficult.”

“Held in esteem by everyone? He had no enemies? No detractors?” Lord Brisbane shook his head and put on a morose expression. “I have a great deal to live up to, indeed. Most certainly I shall fail, and the estates will fall to ruin.”

Diana cast him a suspicious look, then laughed reluctantly. “You need not try to pull the wool over my eyes, my lord. I suspect you are quite capable of managing this estate, and it is no doubt one reason my uncle saw fit to want you to marry me.”

He raised his brows in question. “And how do you know?”

“I am honest enough to admit you are more perceptive than I had given you credit for. You talked of business—I suppose you were not precisely an idle man, for your hands are not as smooth as I suppose a dandy’s might be. Since your clothes are of a fine cut, I imagine your business endeavors were successful. I suspect you were in trade; you seem to be familiar with the making of carriages, or at least woodworking of some kind. Then you mention you were familiar with illnesses and healing.” She smiled slightly. “I imagine you must be engaged in some sort of merchant shipping. Such a business would at once give a man the opportunity for making a fortune”—she gestured at his Bath superfine coat—“thus enabling him to buy whatever he wishes in clothes, and give him the opportunities to learn of ships and their construction. The illnesses and healing—one would have to be more self-reliant regarding these things if one had to travel to foreign lands.”

“Well, well.” Lord Brisbane rocked back on his heels, then smiled widely. “I congratulate you, cousin; you are correct on all points. Very perceptive. I see it would not do to underestimate you.”

Diana grinned. “You are correct, my lord, it would not. Be warned!”

“I am grateful for the warning. You are a formidable woman, to be sure. It is a good thing I had not the intention of asking you to marry me; I had a distinct feeling it would displease you.” His voice was solemn, but she thought she saw his lips turn up for a moment.

“Very wise of you not to wish to propose to me, for you would be living under the sign of the cat’s foot, and no man could wish a marriage like that.” She shrugged off the feeling of discontent—she had never had a proposal before, why should she have one now, even if it had been dictated by Uncle Charles?—and turned to leave the carriage house. Lord Brisbane moved in step with her.

“Now there, cousin, your perception has failed you.” He gave her a small, crooked smile. “I wanted to marry you the moment I saw you, and have no fear at all of being henpecked.”

Diana stumbled, and Lord Brisbane’s hand came up under her elbow to steady her. She stared at him. “You jest, surely.”

“No, alas, I do not.” His smile widened, and his normally sleepy look had fled, replaced by sparkling mischief instead.

“You are jesting, and trifling with me,” Diana said, and marched toward the house. “Do not, for I dislike it, and as you said, I am a formidable woman, and could make more trouble for you than you could like.” She could not believe him, of course, but she did not repel him with her words as she could have; an irresistable curiosity as to what he would say next stayed her.

“Behold me trembling,” Lord Brisbane said, his long legs easily keeping up with her.

“Oh, you are odious!” She eyed him sternly. “You cannot have fallen in love with me, not in such a short time.”

“Love at first sight.”

Diana blushed. “Nonsense! There is no such thing.”
Lord Brisbane sighed. “So I thought, myself. But there you were, rain-soaked and beautiful, and I was instantly lost.”

“Lost on the road, not in any other wise,” she retorted. “You are making fun of me, for none of that can be true.”

“Of course it is true. You were definitely rain-soaked.”

“Oh, and you are in the habit of falling in love with rain-soaked women, is that it?”

“Not at all,” Lord Brisbane said. “However, if a woman is beautiful, that would certainly be an incentive.”

She frowned. “Now I know you are hoaxing me. I am not at all beautiful. I am too tall for that.”

“Not for me.”

Diana looked up at him—obviously this was true. “Well. . . well, then, I am not fashionable.”

“Fashion does not make for beauty.”

“Quite the contrary,” she said. “I have had my Season in London, and know that it’s your fashionable sylph who is much feted. Fashion does indeed dictate what is beautiful.” She wrinkled her nose. “I am not sylph-like; therefore I am not beautiful.”

He cocked his head and looked at her. “No one has ever admitted admiring you?”

She rolled her eyes. “No, of course not.”

“More fool they.” He shot a quick, laughing glance at her. “No doubt they were intimidated by your formidableness.”

“I am not—” She stopped and closed her mouth, belatedly remembering that she had indeed agreed she was formidable. She gave him a sour look. “Believe me, I was as meek as my Aunt Matchett could make me.”

“Impossible,” he replied. “Nothing could subdue those magnificently flashing and scornful eyes—are they gray or blue? Blue, I believe.”

“They are pale blue,” Diana said firmly. “And they neither flash nor are they scornful.”

“No? They seem to be, now.”

She let out an exasperated breath. “Only because you are the most provoking man imaginable.”

Lord Brisbane shook his head mournfully. “Worse and worse. First I am odious and now I am provoking. A very good thing I decided not to propose to you; you would have refused me immediately and I would have been cast into abject despair.”

“I doubt it,” Diana replied, banishing a slight feeling of discontent. “Count yourself fortunate: I am persuaded you would not wish to marry a woman you hardly know, and I would much rather live on a pittance than marry a complete stranger.”

His lordship’s expression lightened. “How gratifying to find you are not mercenary and not looking to marry a fortune or a title. Should I ever take it in my head to propose to you, I shall do so in happy confidence that your acceptance would come from your heart.”

“And if I were to decline?”

“There would be nothing for it but I must put a period to my existence,” Lord Brisbane said cheerfully.

Diana stopped, then turned to stare at him, her hands on her hips. “My lord, I think you must be the strangest man I have ever met.”

He appeared to consider her words seriously, then shook his head. “Since your sojourn in London was so short and you have grown up in the country most of your life, I cannot think your experience of men to be very great at all.” He smiled. “I am quite normal, truly.”

He had an answer for everything it seemed, but Diana’s annoyance with him was weak at best. She smiled slightly. This conversation was indeed the most peculiar she had had with anyone, but somehow her irritation was mixed heavily with a certain exhilaration. She had never traded quick and spirited words with a man before; her conversations in London had always been awkwardly constrained or excruciatingly polite. Indeed, she noted in surprise, the awkwardness she had when she first met this new Lord Brisbane had disappeared.

“You are smiling, I see,” he said. “But I assure you, no one has ever accused me of being odd.”

“Really?” Diana could not help chuckling. “I am surprised, my lord.”

Ask Me Anything Friday

Once again, it's Ask Me Anything Friday.

It worked pretty well last week, so I'm continuing.  :-)

I'll reply either in the comments section during the week or in another blog post within a week of the question asked (more or less, depending on how many questions I get).

Some topics:

• Art and craft of writing
• High concept ideas
• Publishing
• Markets
• Writing contests
• Trends - what subgenres are hot--or should be
• How-to items
• Writing life

So, ask away!

E-book Prices

A fellow writer commented that it seemed odd many mainstream book publishers are pricing their ebooks the same as they'd price their regular paper books.  It does seem odd, doesn't it?  After all, there's less overhead in the production of ebooks than there would be in a paper book.  Certainly, the cost of materials would be less.

I think the market is in the testing phase, and there is more in the cost of production that goes into pricing.

The natural thing to assume about ebooks is that because they are rather...non-physical compared to paper books, and of course the reproduction costs are minimal compared to printing books,the books should therefore be priced at a lower cost than paper books.

I won't get into the fact that the electrons and molecules that make up data are as real as those in our bodies, and without those electrons, both ebooks and our bodies would burst into nothingness, because that would not only be irrelevant to this post, but would start me down the road to science fiction, which I don't want to get into at this point. :-)

But where pricing is concerned there are a few factors to consider.

1. Cost of production

All books, regardless of type, have a certain cost of production. You ever hear about the fact that "time is money"? Exactly. You go to work, you type up a report, fix a car, or code some software, and your boss pays you for that time. Same thing happens with a book, whether it's an ebook or a paper book. Regardless of whether the book is electronic or paper, someone puts in the time thinking up the story and hours upon hours of writing it. Then that person goes through and edits the book (I hope!). Someone creates a cover for it, whether it's painted or whether it's created on Photoshop. All these people need to be paid so that they can have a roof over their heads and food on the table. For paper books, editors go over the book in various stages to see if there are any errors that need to be fixed, anything from punctuation and grammar errors to story continuity. Trust me, an author can be as meticulous as all get-out and go over her story five times and still miss something, so having an editor or a very good critique group is essential. Editors, of course, need to be paid.

Of course, the production similarities diverge when it comes to the physical production.  For paper books, there is the cost of getting paper, printing them, puting physical book covers on them, and all the costs involved in putting the books on trucks and driving them to various bookstores and grocery stores. Oh, and yes, those running the stores have to be paid, too. All of that goes into the price of a book. About 94% of the price of a paper book pays everyone except the author. The author generally gets 6% of the cover price. So, a paper book costs $5, the author gets 30 cents of that.

Even with an ebook, the retailer--Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Apple, etc.--get their cut.

2. Quality

Let's say you had a choice between two outfits. One is designed by Armani, is a perfect fit, makes you look 10 lbs thinner, and is made of silk so soft it's to die for. The other one is made of polyester that could sand the glaze off pottery and makes you look like your mother on drugs. Which would you choose? The dynamite silk outfit of course. The silk outfit is quality, the polyester is not. Most people are willing to pay a bit more for well-made silk than for poorly-made polyester.

3. Perception of value

Which brings me to the perception of value.  In the example of quality above, all other things being equal, you'll probably want to get the Armani rather than the polyester-looks-like-your-mother-on-drugs outfit.  Let's say you didn't even see a picture of the outfits, but you know that they're in your size and in a color you like.  Again, which one would you go for?  I bet the Armani.  Why?  Because chances are really good that the Armani would be better made and look good.  In fact, if the polyester outfit cost $75, and the Armani cost $150--$75 more!--you'd still go for the Armani because at that price, it's worth it, even though it costs more than the polyester no-name suit, because a good Armani suit goes for around $200 on sale if you're lucky.

In other words, to most people, the name "Armani" has value.  The company has a good reputation for well-made clothes.

But what if there's another company that makes to-die-for clothes--one you haven't heard of?  How do you hear about it?  Maybe a friend decided to take a chance, and ended up loving that company's clothes.  He or she tells you about it.  That previously no-name company now has a little bit more value to you--enough so that you're willing to give it a try--because your friend liked it, and you trust your friend.

The same thing goes for books.

In this exploding ebook publishing world, you get every kind of pricing from free to $10.00.  You have every kind of person's work--from a teenager's fan fic homage to Twilight to J.K. Rowling--out there for sale.  There are probably hundreds of thousands of books out there that you could download.  How do you choose?

It basically comes down to cost of production, quality, and perception of value.

Even with ebooks, the cost of production will vary.  There are more than a few ebooks out there by writers who couldn't spell their way out of a paper bag, whose stories are boring, or simply don't make any sense.  The production costs are really low because the writer just wrote whatever and the uploaded it, and maybe slapped a bland cover on it that they Photoshopped in about a minute.  That's low production cost, right there, and hand in hand with that is low quality.

These books may be free or cost 99 cents, but even at free you're going to wonder why you spent the time you did even trying to get through it.  Your opinion of the book may be a matter of taste, but there are some real, objective, quality issues that are important to a production of a book that make even a free one torture to spend your time on.  And your time is limited, right? Why even spend 5 minutes with a low-quality book, even if it's free?  Because, you see, it's not really free.  You have to spend time reading it.  And your time isn't free.  It's time you could have spent elsewhere.  Do you really want to spend hundreds of hours online searching through hundreds of thousands of books for a good one?  I bet not.

You have a few time-saving choices.  You can ask friends.  You can go by an author's reputation.  You can also go by a publisher's reputation.

When an indie author has a book for sale--and let's say you don't know this author from Adam--you don't have a guarantee that this author has put in the extra effort to create a quality book.  I'm sure there are plenty of indie authors who are great.  I know some who are.  But if you buy from an established publisher, you at least can count on the fact that it's been edited by a professional, so you probably won't find many spelling or grammar errors.  The story will probably be understandable, and there will probably be a decent plot.  You can at least have that bottom-line guarantee.  You can especially have that guarantee if that book has been published by a mainstream traditional publisher that has more than a few bestsellers under its belt.  You're going by publisher reputation.

If the indie author is J.K. Rowling, you probably won't care how she's being published, you're going to buy her book or know the quality is going to be better than most.  You're going by author name recognition.

Buying a book by a well-known publisher or author saves you what precious time you have in hunting through hundreds, nay, thousands of books trying to find that pinpoint balance between an affordable price and quality.

Right now, mainstream publishers are banking on the idea that you might be willing to pay the same for their ebooks as you would for a paper book because there is a better guarantee of quality.  They're especially betting on it if the author is well-known, even a bestselling author.  Hence, the price they're putting on it is the same as for a paper book.  In other words, they're offering a service:  you pay extra for the name brand, because they have just given you some information regarding a better chance at quality and saving you some time in looking for a good book...

...for now.

Because if you find an indie author whose books are fabulous, and she's offering the book for $2.99, are you really going to go to the mainstream publisher to buy an equally fabulous book for $6?  Probably not, unless you are deeply craving that particular mainstream-published author's books.

Will mainstream publishers have to bring their prices down a bit to compete after a while?  Probably so.  The reason is because readers will eventually find indie authors who are just as good as those who are traditionally published, and the prices are between $4.99 and $2.99--99 cents if it's on sale.  This is already happening.  In fact, there are more than a few indie authors who have been traditionally published authors, and who have decided to epublish that novel they've wanted to publish for ages, but which has been turned down by traditional publishers. 

The market is in flux right now.  This is a great time to find new authors, and for authors to find new readers, and for authors to actually make a living instead of having to find a day job to support the writing (and trust me, working 60 hours a week doesn't make for great storytelling, it makes for a really, really tired person).

I don't know how long this will last.  Authors are already wishing that they had more time to write because they're spending a lot of time on things like editing, finding covers, coding their manuscripts into the appropriate format, and so on, instead of creating a novel.  And I don't know how long it'll be before Amazon, Apple, Barnes and Noble, etc., will decide that they, too, can take the lion's share of the profits and leave the author with a smaller and smaller percentage.

I have some hope, though.  This new ebook venue means each author or group of authors can become their own small business, and that means they'll need to hire people to help them with the production of books.  It means there will be job creation, and that's good for all of us, right? 

As long as the authors get paid, that is.  :-)

Signet Regencies

Before I started writing romance novels, I read an enormous number of books--I have, since childhood, and read every kind of book I could get my hands on.  I eventually found a friend in high school who also read a lot, and her favorites were romance novels, in particular Regency romance, and she introduced me to those.

Don't know what a Regency romance is?  Oh you poor dear.  Think Jane Austen.  Pride and Prejudice.  Sense and Sensibility.  Fun, romantic, often witty, and set between the years of approximately 1790 to 1820.

Check out Library Journal's description here:  http://www.libraryjournal.com/article/CA6413456.html

I took off on those like a rocket.  Had to get my teenaged hands on every kind I could find, from Georgette Heyer (the founder, essentially, of modern Regency romance) to Barbara Cartland.  I found, over time, where I could find my favorites, and that was within the covers of the Signet Regency imprint.  I ended up going to those Regencies by Signet first, then the others.  Don't get me wrong, there were plenty of wonderful authors writing for other imprints and publishers, but I could always depend on reading something different, yet still adhering to the Regency feel in a Signet Regency romance.  Signets became my mainstay into adulthood.

I think many Regency and historical romance fans can recognize the names that published with Signet Regencies:  Mary Jo Putney, Jo Beverley, Clare Darcy, Catherine Coulter, Sandra Heath, Barbara Hazard, Joan Wolf, Edith Layton, Marion Chesney (aka M.C. Beaton), Mary Balogh, Anita Mills, Amanda Scott, Laura Matthews (aka Elizabeth Neff Walker), Carla Kelly, Michelle Kasey (aka Kasey Michaels), Elisabeth Fairchild, Candice Hern, Elizabeth Mansfield, April Kihlstrom, Teresa DesJardien, and many more.  If you haven't read these authors' books, go forth, find, and read. For a complete list of Signet Regency authors and their Regency romances, here's a good web site reference:  http://www.thenonesuch.com/signet.htm

When I started writing romances, they naturally were Regency romances, the ones I liked the best.  And my ambition was to be a Signet Regency author, because those were my favorites.  I considered Signet to be the premier publisher of Regencies.  I could count on the history to be as accurate as possible, and the storytelling to be superb, with just a bit of the unexpected thrown in.  If I could achieve those ranks, it would be confirmation of the quality--in my mind, at least!--of my stories.

Eventually I did become a Signet author.  Of the eleven novels I have published, seven were with Signet.  Of the four novellas I've written, three were also with Signet.  To top it off, when I received a letter from one of my favs, Mary Jo Putney, complementing me on the first Signet Regency I had published, I just about cried and ran to tell my husband, I was that thrilled.  Not that he totally understood the significance of this, but he knew enough to give me a hug and congratulate me.  :-)

Unfortunately, in about March of 2006, Signet ceased publication of their Regency line.  For me, and for many others, it was a sad day in romance history.  No, not because I had been a Signet author, but because there are a limited number of Georgette Heyer and Jane Austen books around, and there has to be some way to feed the Regency-era habit.  For a Regency fan (e.g., me), it was a day for weeping and gnashing of teeth.

Well, I'm glad to say that Signet has revived the Signet Regency line, this time as ebooks.  These will include both out-of-print books as well as never-before-published Regencies.  You can find them at Penguin's Intermix site (Penguin is the publisher of the Signet imprint), or click on the "invitation card" at the top of this blog.

Will one of my books be e-published there?  Yes (Miss Carlyle's Curricle, sometime in July).  Will I totally spend my royalty check at this site?  No doubt.

Seriously, Signet should just have a buyer's account for me into which they deposit my royalty checks and out of which I can buy Regency romances.

A Special License is available at Regency Reads!

Description:  When the Earl of Rothwick mistakenly absconds with Miss Linnea Ashley, all he has to do is the honorable thing:  marry her.  But life is never as simple as that for a man as wrong-headed as Lord Rothwick, especially when his ex-fiancee Sophia becomes hell-bent on retribution.

You can find the book here:

http://www.regencyreads.com/bookstore/online/a-special-license-p-534.html?zenid=3gv3akh8log800mnl1cu394ar2

My second book was published by HarperCollins back in 1995, so is out of print.  I believe I have some paperback copies of this, so if anyone wants to read this book the old-fashioned way, let me know.

This is a traditional Regency romance.  It’s...somewhat humorous, and I have a somewhat quirky sense of humor that occasionally slides into the outrageous, so there’s no telling how it’ll come off to other people.  However, I enjoyed writing it, so I hope that comes through to whoever does read it.

I think it did, actually, because Romantic Times Book Club said this about it:

"...bright and shining talent...gleams with added lustre in this impeccably crafted Regency romance...(a) lively tale with the flavor of authenticity so valued by Regency connoisseurs, along with a fiery spark of passion sure to win every romance reader's heart."

Bless their romance-loving hearts.  :-)

Want to know what the book is like?  You can read an excerpt here:

http://www.regencyreads.com/bookstore/online/excerpts/a_special_license.html

And an extra excerpt here:

Well, well, thought Rothwick. Opportunity knocks.  

Although, if he had known at the outset that the woman was Paul's so-called inamorata, he would have left her to her fate. No doubt it was all some squabble about money or jewels.

He grimaced to himself, feeling the knuckles he had bruised on one man's jaw. Untrue. He could no more have let her be assaulted than if she were his own sister. In truth, no woman should be assaulted, regardless of what she was. Besides, he had not known who she was until he had seen her face. 

However, he could teach her a lesson. What an actress she was, to have claimed kinship with Lord and Lady Boothe, and with such an unconscious air! But she had slipped, and slipped badly. He had heard long ago that Lady Boothe was a woman of rigid propriety; he would bet his estates that she would never let a young female relative out of her sight or from the close proximity of one of her dragons. Much less would Lady Boothe let a female of her household walk alone at a time of night when only men and prostitutes dared appear. He felt himself confirmed that this woman was no innocent maiden at all, but as sly a bit of muslin as he had ever come across. 

Rothwick pursed his lips slightly, as if a sour taste had entered his mouth. He did not like liars. His past mistresses had been honest, making no claim to be anything other than they were. He would not bother making her his—but most certainly he would teach her a lesson. She would learn to stay away from members of his family. 

The earl turned up the carriage lamp and surveyed her in the dimness. She neither moved nor spoke during their ride, and though she was not deeply asleep, he thought she dozed. The lights made shadows under her closed eyes; she looked very tired. Rothwick shrugged. The light was muted, and if she was tired, it was no doubt from dissipation. Women grew old quickly in the oldest of professions, for all their knowledge of paints and lotions. 

The carriage slowed, and Rothwick could see that the Boothes' town house was near. He quickly made a decision. Leaning out of the door, he murmured a few words to Grimes. The groom's brows rose, but the man said nothing. The carriage continued down the street. Rothwick gazed at the woman, thinking about what he would do. Should he expose her charade at the nearest stopping place, or should he continue to his hunting box? He reviewed the various inns on the periphery of London and thought better of it. An inn was too public a place—if she set up a screech, it would cause no end of scandal, and he wanted to keep his—well, he would admit it—abduction of Miss Pickens quite private. It would have to be his hunting box. Once more he leaned out the door and gave his groom the new direction, then smiled to himself and settled back down on the carriage seat. 

When she finally opened her eyes, she sighed, looking around her for a few seconds. Her eyes rested on the earl and lost their sleepy vagueness, looking embarrassed instead. "I am truly sorry, sir—I think I actually slept for a while. Your carriage is remarkably well sprung." She laughed tentatively. "It must have been terribly dull for you. Was it long?" 

"No," replied the earl. "It was but a moment." He did not want her to know they had been traveling for more than half an hour. It would be most inconvenient if she made a fuss before they were out of London; indeed, he had hoped she would actually sleep. They were already at the outskirts of town, however, so it was not likely she would be able to make much headway in escaping if she did find out. He smiled briefly at her. "I do wish you would not call me 'sir' every time you address me. It is quite tiresome, you know." 

She blushed but said with a touch of spirit, "I can hardly address you otherwise, since I do not know your name." 

He raised his brows. "I am remiss; you must forgive me. I am William, Lord Rothwick, at your service." He inclined his head slightly. 

She returned his bow with quaint dignity, he noted with reluctant admiration. "I am honored, my lord. And I am—" 

"I know who you are, Miss Pickens. You have become quite well known to me." He laughed shortly. 

"Pickens?" she said. "I am afraid you are mistaken; I am not Miss Pickens, I am—" 

"Come, come, my dear—shall I call you Cassey? No matter. There is no need to pretend you are other than you are. I know what you were up to with my nephew, Paul. He may still be wet behind the ears, but I am not. I have had experience with your sort, and I needed only to look at Paul's expression when he escorted you that day to see he was almost secured in your trap." 

"Of—of my sort?" She looked confused. "What can you mean? And who is this Cassey? It is not I, I assure you, my lord. My name is Linnea—" 

"Really, Miss Pickens," Rothwick drawled. "I concede you are a good actress, but did you really think you could fool me with that story about Lady Boothe? It does your case no good to change your name, either." He leaned back in a leisurely manner. "It was a good story—one I have heard before, however—though the invention of a relationship between you and Lady Boothe was a bold stroke, I must say! But I happen to know Her Ladyship is extremely strict in her observance of the proprieties, and would never let a young woman of her household leave without escort. So, my dear, why don't we dispense with this unnecessary pretense and engage in some pound dealing, shall we?" He smiled genially. 

Her face was the picture of stunned astonishment, and she seemed bereft of words. Really, he thought with a touch of irritation, she was an excellent actress, but he would prefer she be open with him now. 

"But—but, I assure you, sir, I am not who you think I am," she managed to croak. She cleared her throat and said more calmly, "Please, you need only let me down at Lady Boothe's and she can identify me." 

He laughed. "And have you make a run for it?" She opened her mouth to reply, but he held up a hand. "Or, no. You seem to be an imaginative young woman.... Let's see. You will be so bold as to approach Lady Boothe and demand her presence. She will not recognize you, and you will then protest that she is against you and seeks only to cast you out from her house." 

The young woman opened her mouth again, only to shut it. A hopeless look came over her face. "But, my lord, she must acknowledge me!" she whispered. "I am her kin, after all." She seemed almost to be talking to herself. He could see she was on the edge of giving up her act. 

"Come now. You know she wouldn't," he said soothingly. 

She looked at him as if bewildered. "But wait—wait! Am I to assume from this conversation you are not taking me to Lady Boothe's?" 

"No, I am not." 

She half rose from her seat. "Then where—" She stared at him in horror. "You must be mad! You cannot just—just abduct someone and carry her off!"

"Your presence here proves that I can." 

"No. I cannot go with you, it's impossible!" 

"What, another assignation with a... er... paramour? Or is it Paul?" 

Her gaze was one of incomprehension. "Paul? What has Paul to do with all this?" 

"So you are on a first-name acquaintance with him, are you?" 

"Why, yes, I have known him for a good while." 

"Your mask slips further and further, Miss Pickens. There is no one in Lady Boothe's household who is closely acquainted with Paul." 

She pressed herself into the seat, away from him. "You jump from one thing to another! You must be mad or—or full of drink! I cannot see why you chose to abduct me and then talk of people I don't know, and acting as if I should!" 

"People you don't know," mocked Rothwick. "You just said you knew my nephew!" His distaste grew. She was playing the innocent maiden role, an act that often lent some spice to other men's pursuit of women, but it was one he detested. 

"Ah, sir! Why do you do this to me?" she exclaimed. She looked about her wildly. "You must be mad—or I! I cannot go with you!" She jumped up and seized the carriage handle, tearing open the door. 

She moved so swiftly that she was halfway out of the moving carriage before he seized her about the waist and pulled her back in again. From out the swinging carriage door, Rothwick could see the quick flashes of reflected moonlight on the road's rocks and pebbles. She could have been killed. He turned his head and looked at her. She had fallen against him, and he still had one arm around her waist and a hand clamped around her wrist. She breathed in small gasps, and he could feel how thin her wrist was in his hand and how little flesh covered her ribs that were pressed against him. Her eyes looked up into his, and in the turned-up carriage lights he could see a spark of defiance beneath the fear and fatigue in her eyes.

The horrible suspicion that had risen in Rothwick's mind when the woman had gone for the door now turned into certain consternation. Women of the demimonde may act the unwilling maiden to tantalize, but they soon gave way to seduction at the end. They did not try to escape into what might have been death or at least severe injury. 

"Who are you?" he whispered tersely. He let go of her waist and let her down gently on the seat opposite him. 

She pushed herself into the corner away from him, her hands clutching the cushions. "I am Linnea Ashley. I live with Lady Boothe, my—my cousin. She lacked a footman to send a message to Lady Strahan, and she sent me instead."

"Oh, my God." Rothwick sank his head into his hands and wearily ran his fingers through his hair, pulling a little. He glanced up at Miss Ashley. "You can stop trying to wedge yourself into the woodwork. I don't ravish women, much less ladies of quality." She relaxed a little but kept a wary eye on him. "Please," he amended. 

She lifted her chin mutinously. "You might change your mind," she said. "Indeed, I do not know what you will do next."

"Surely you don't take me for a madman—yes, well, I see you do." He sighed. "I assure you, I am quite sane. You see, I, ah, I thought you were someone else, and was trying to teach her a lesson." The excuse sounded weak even to his own ears.

"How flattering." Her voice was sarcastic, but she unclenched her hands from the upholstery.

The Marriage Scheme available on Amazon!

The Marriage Scheme is now on Amazon, and can be downloaded to your Kindle.

Which is motivation for me to get the next one out there.  And write more books.  And revise more!  I have one book that never got published that was going to be called "Midnight Surrender," and I really need to go over it and fix it.  It's very dark, and I don't think I want it to be that dark, because the world needs a bit more levity these days.  Plus, there is such a thing called "comedic relief."

There are so many things I want to write, now that there is this new territory called "e-publishing" to explore.  I love the novella form, so I'd love to write more of those.  Also, I'd like to write the continuing adventures of Arabella Templar and William Marstone (from "Miss Templar and the Holy Grail"), as well as of Anna Vanderzee and the samurai-ryu-kami Nakagawa (from "Anna and the King of Dragons").

So...gotta get crackin'!

The Marriage Scheme is now available!

My out-of-print book The Marriage Scheme (a Regency romance) is now available as an ebook at Regency Reads!  

This is the first book I wrote.  I started writing it 25 years ago, and finished the month my son was born--both a nine-month process. Funny how the creative process mirrors the process of childbirth.  :-D

Seven years later, it was published by HarperCollins in 1994.  Had I known what I know now, I would have sent it out for publication earlier.  Which all goes to show that the idea that "first books don't sell" is really, really wrong.

Harlequin vs. RWA

Jackie Kessler nailed it:

http://www.jackiekessler.com/blog/2009/11/19/harlequin-horizons-versus-rwa/


I'm pretty danged proud to be a member of Romance Writers of America right now--they've dropped Harlequin (HQ) from their recognized publisher list because of HQ's Harlequin Horizons vanity publishing venture.  Science Fiction Writers of America and Mystery Writers of America have followed RWA's lead.

The news is all over the blogosphere and fiercely Tweeted right now, and it's not showing to Harlequin's benefit.  Even the New Yorker is giving its two cents, and yeah, not so hot for HQ.

FWIW, I don't have a problem with self-publishing, nor do I even have a problem with vanity publishing.  They all have their place.  But if an agent did what HQ is doing, he or she would be drummed out of AAR.   RWA is an author advocate organization.  They can't go against their bylaws and mission and look the other way when even Harlequin--the world's largest romance publisher if not the world's largest publisher--does something detrimental to authors' interests.

And I've gotta say, even if you were determined to pay someone to publish your books, you could do it far, far less expensively than with Harlequin Horizons.  Less than half price, or so I'm told.

From what I understand, Torstar, Harlequin's parent company is seeing losses in the millions; Harlequin is the only company under Torstar that's seeing a profit and a healthy one at that.  I have no beef with any company making good money; I'm a capitalist at heart.  But I wonder if Torstar is pressuring Harlequin to go the vanity publishing route to so as to make more money to bail out their other failing companies.  Seems to me it's a sure way to kill the goose that's laying the golden eggs.  If one of your companies is failing, you either do what you can to fix it, or you drop it.  You don't go compromising the name and quality of the successful company to shore up the failing one. 

Harlequin's still a good publisher with which to publish your books--advances, international distribution, etc., are okay.  But not as a vanity publisher--not with the Horizon imprint.  The money should flow to the author; the author shouldn't have to pay to be published.

Emerald City Conference at the Bellevue Hilton, WA - Fini

As usual, the Greater Seattle RWA chapter's Emerald City Conference was very fun, very informative, and very full of creative energy.  I believe we had more attendees this time than last; I understand that it's the largest chapter conference on the west coast of the U.S.  There has not been one time I have departed from that conference with anything less than renewed enthusiasm for writing and full of ideas.

Quite a few authors were there of course: Cherry Adair, with her marvelous "Write the Damn Book" challenge; Deborah Cook (a.k.a., Claire Deveraux); Lisa Jackson; Alexis Morgan; Pat White; Stella Cameron; Jane Porter; Gerri Russell; Christine Warren; Yasmine Galenorn; Katie McAllister; Susan Mallery; Megan Chance; Terry McLaughlin; Bob Mayer; Eileen Cook; Robert Dugoni; and many more.  Oh, and me.  :-)

The workshops were set to appeal to writers of many levels, from brand new to multi-published and everything in between.  Is a critique group right for you?  There was a workshop to help you decide.  What about the editor/author relationship?  How does that work?  Assistant Editor Peter Senftleben of Kensington Publishing and two of his authors, Gina Robinson and Shelli Stevens gave their expertise with that.  Are you an author who needs to think about career planning?  Katie MacAlister gave a workshop on that.  Interested in writing for the Young Adult market?  Authors Heather Davis, Serena Robar, and Dona Sarkar talked with expertise about what's allowed, how far you can go, and the current market trends.  And research!  If you wanted to know about Medieval castles, dragons, the Old West, and urban fantasy, there were workshops for those topics, too.

I want to give a special shout-out to Serena Robar for her workshop on the "Long Tail of Sales."  This was a workshop I gladly moderated, as I feel it's a marketing model that will shortly become the dominant one.  It favors smaller niche markets, and as romance is so very much about niches, it should adapt extremely well to this model and make a good deal of money doing it.  It also favors the quick, mobile companies; mom-and-pop shops; and other small, flexible companies and individuals that are good at acting on the spot.  I will do my best to suggest this workshop for the RWA National Conference, as I believe it's a very important one in our current economy if individuals--and companies--are to survive.

As for the market news...well, I heard a bit, not much.  For now it seems to be steady as it goes:  paranormals and historicals are doing fine, as I expected. First person novels seem to be popular, and I have to say, for a writer, it's great practice in keeping to one point of view. Young Adult novels are doing very, very well, and are definitely on the up-cycle (I remember a time when the Romance Writers of America dropped the Young Adult category from their contests, as there were too few entries--not any more!).  Urban fantasy romances are still doing well, and steampunk is making inroads.  Yes, vampires are still in, but the fantasy/paranormal romances are expanding in scope, thank God.

Romantic comedies--trust me when I say that their day is soon to come.  I don't know why publishers are not publishing more of these.  If they don't start coming into their own in the next year, I guarantee you'll see demand for them by 2012--only 3 years from now.  If you're a writer of "romcom" get your stories written now.  By the time the publishers get on board, you'll have a raft of manuscripts ready to submit.  The reason I say this is that I do not think that our economy is going to recover quickly at all, and will still see some dips along the way.  People buy entertainment when economies are down, and they go in droves for comedies (think of the popular movies of the Great Depression, and you'll see what I mean).

Westerns don't seem to be in, my gut instinct says they may not see much publishing light that soon, even though I do think there's a large market for it.  Our economic cycle is hugely focused on urban tastes right now, and even though the more small-town areas are probably dying to read a good solid western, since the major publishing companies exist in huge urban centers, they probably have no idea that there is this huge untapped market.  It's really too bad, in that some good solid, steady sales could be had in this "long tail" market.  Certainly, a smaller, more flexible publishing company could take advantage of this niche.

Well, that's it for now.  Next year...well, I doubt I'll be going to this lovely conference, as I'll be out of the country in Europe, if all goes as planned.  It'll be quite expensive to fly out to Seattle, even to the East Coast.  So unless our fortunes change, that'll be it for writing conferences.

Romance market trends

From 8/8/09:

I haven't been to RWA national conference this year, and so haven't heard the market news, but that's fine...I know what they are, anyway. Which sounds arrogant, I guess, but anyone who has met me will tell you I'm not that kind of person. It's just that one of my hobbies is the study of demographics and market trends, focused mostly on publishing and in particular the romance market. I've studied it for...let's see...since 1995, ever since my vampire Regency (The Vampire Viscount) and paranormal Regency (The Devil's Bargain) first came out. Yeah, I wrote them way back before the vampire/paranormal thing was huge. I have a habit of doing that. It's tough going, because when you write ahead of the trend, most people think you're crazy. Hell, I predicted during the 2000 RWA conference that we were going to see a surge of kick-ass heroines and that paranormals were going to be huge, and gee, guess what? It happened--it was the news during that conference.
I gave a talk at the Emerald City RWA conference in 2006 about demographic trends, and predicted that we were going to see a social crisis in the next year or two, akin to the Great Depression (yes, there is a reason why our 401K is still okay, though it did take a hit, as everyone's did. Clue: look at the events 80 years ago). I did another workshop in a few years later on the exact same talk, and didn't change the date on my PowerPoint, to prove my point. The Seattle Chapter will vouch for me on this. :-D


Anyway, here are my predictions for the next few years:


Based on my observation of generations and demographics, plus the economic times, I figure romance and women's fiction--with an uplifting ending--are going to remain strong. As during the Great Depression, romantic comedies, stories with optimistic endings with the belief in the decency of every-day human beings. Think Ginger Rogers/Fred Astaire, such movies as "Daddy Long Legs," "Topper Takes a Trip" (romantic comedy/ paranormal), "Bringing up Baby." Comedies in general will do well--remember that Charlie Chaplin made millions during the Great Depression when movies were 25 cents per ticket.


And gee, as an aside, is it any surprise that musicals are becoming more popular with the under 30 set? The Seattle area is considered a "bellweather" region, and I'm seeing participation in musical theater and music like never before amongst the young 20's and teens. I want to emphasize the areas outside of Seattle proper--there are relatively few children and teens in Seattle, compared to most any other place in the nation except for San Francisco. If you want to watch for trends amongst teens and the early 20's, look at King County, outside of the city. Places like Kent, Auburn, Everett, Bellevue, etc.

Paranormals, and those stories with a spiritual/religious component will still be good sellers. Again, whatever gives a belief in something beyond ourselves will be popular, because in general, I think people's attitudes about society and our elected officials (on both sides of the political fence) is sort of...soured. Easier to believe in a larger abstract higher concept than individual fallible leaders.
Anything with a theme of overcoming difficulties to success/love/contentment should be popular.

In particular, I think vampires, while not as popular as before (saturation in the market) they will still be good sellers, in that these have the themes of encountering something potentially dangerous and navigating through discerning if it can be trusted or not. That reflects our times, plus the early 20-something and teen set. Anything else with that theme--encountering danger, going through a period of discernment, then triumph will be popular, because those just beginning to start their adult lives are facing the theme of a scary world in which they have to make their way. However, that theme has broadened to all generations because of the current economic and social crisis.

Also, though this theme is popular overall, for the Millennial generation (those born approximately from 1980 to 2000), stories with characters having a higher purpose and/or who are special in some way will be popular. This is why the Harry Potter books were so popular, and continue to be popular with them (aside for the fact that these books are simply danged good reading). In fact, they also had the strong, very strong spiritual/religious underpinning. No, they're not obvious to those who aren't familiar with religion (and ironically, a lot of religious people aren't familiar with their own), but trust me, they're there.


Despite the economic downturn, the Millenial generation is coming into their time of buying power. It's not as huge a buying power as the Boomers (still) have, but it's considerable simply because that population is so large compared to GenX and the Silent Generation (those who were children during the Great Depression).


And historicals..they'll keep going on. But what's missing--and wlll probably be popular when they do come about--are ones set during the American Revolution and possibly Civil War. Ditto WWII. Why? They all reflect what's we're going through/going to go through now. David McCullough hit a nerve with his books, John Adams and 1776. This is why he is both a bestseller AND a Pulitzer Prize winner (well, he's an awesome writer, so there's that).


Those are the eras the current crop of Millennials will find some common themes. The young people of those eras grew up in severely divisive times--as we do. Their elders could not come to any kind of consensus, and more time was spent squabbling and pointing out scandals than solving problems. The real concerns of the rural areas and those areas with less infrastructure (the American colonies during the Revolution, and the more rural South during the Civil War) were pitted against the concerns of the more sophisticated urban citizens (the British, and the very industrialized North, respectively). One of those crises ended up with a relatively healthy unity. The other...did not. WWII ended up with a healthy unity of purpose, and that was when we built the massive infrastructure that is now, unfortunately, aging to the point of danger to life and limb.

The current era...well, time will tell. We get to choose whether we get over our differences, find common ground, and work together, and I REALLY don't want finger pointing at the OTHER side that you just CAN'T talk to. Be the first to hold out the helping hand and open mind, people, and keep doing it. Really find out where the other side is coming from, what their fears are, and I mean their root fears, where they are suffering. Your survival depends on it. Although right now, my feeling is that either side's intention in finding out about the other side's suffering is in the interests of crushing the other side into dust. Or ignoring the other sides' suffering, period, because of course they're BAD. Yes, this Pollyanna is fighting cynicism.

To get back on track: As a result, there is a certain hunger in Millennials for hope (that is their nature), for the idea that difficulties can be worked through, that people can work together, that there is a higher purpose out there for every one. And, optimism is the very nature of romance novels, so I believe you will continue to see these novels prosper. Heroic fantasy will also do well, and fantasy in which the protagonists are fighting the powers of evil (Dresden files, is a good example).

GenX--do not dismiss this generation. This scrappy generation will help get us through the hard times. They do not hesitate to get their hands dirty and get the job done, and in hard times, that's what's needed. Think Patton. Yeah, those disaffected 1980's youth dressed in black and piercings end up being Patton, wreaking havoc amongst Hitler's armies. And they are really good consumers of paranormal stories that feature grim, realistic protagonists that wade through death and degradation to wreak destruction on predators. They are good at defending the weak and innocent while shooting off a witty quip, knowing that they will get no reward for their heroism, but that they're just here to do the job, hopefully with a small group of loyal friends or a devoted partner. (Think Buffy.)

Both GenX and the Millenials are hands-on, practical groups. GenX is a bit more gritty and pessimistic, while the Millenials are more optimistic. Both get the job done, and sooner or later become impatient with high-flying rhetoric.

I really also want to emphasize the religious/spiritual angle. When times are hard, when there is a crisis, people often turn to religion. This is why it is the most impoverished areas of the world that are the most religious; when you have very little, when your next day may bring hunger or the threat of poverty, then the only thing that often keeps you alive is hope in something higher and better, whether that would be your still-innocent children, or God, or both. In other words, these things represent hope for the future.

As a result, I expect books on religion and spirituality will stil be strong. Inspirational romances sales will probably hold steady, especially if there is some real spiritual insight there and realistic integration between some real, human life questions and religion/spirituality.

And...I expect the readership amongst men for romance novels will grow, and has been growing. Romance novels--especially those with suspense/mystery/action--will be especially appealing. Romance novels are probably one of the few fiction areas that feature men as good guys (we have heroes, after all!), and people, men need hope, too. That they have not much hope is reflected in the steep increases in male suicides, especially amongst teens and 20-somethings, in the last few decades, as much as 5 times that of females. It's also reflected in the fact that of all graduating high school seniors, 80% of girls apply to college, whereas only 20% of boys do, and that has been going on for a decades as well. That's another reason why the Harry Potter books were so popular amongst boys--these books are one of the few instances that featured a boy as a protagonist, a boy who was special, and who tried his best to do good. That's a hopeful thing for boys who are looking for a book to read.

So in essence:

• Romance will be strong, and hold steady
  
• Paranormals strong, vampires have glutted the market, but will still hold steady (and zombies as protagonists or heros--oh, please. A bump in the road. I could be wrong, but having a guy who has to keep sticking his face back on with superglue because his flesh is just a bit on the rotten side is not romantic. However, innovation does occasionally win).
• Ghosts...give those a try. Demons, ditto. However, redemption as a theme should be strong. We have a very punishing society, with almost no forgiveness unless you have money or fame. Redemption themes as a result is another source of hope for the rest of us.
  
• Romantic comedies--yes!
• Historicals will hold steady, but do give the eras of the American Revolution, the Civil War, and WWII a try, although I expect these will probably be most popular in about 5 years. If Europe, Puritans vs. the Cavaliers, and Tudor era would work. the The authors MUST do the research on those, as ever. Less costume dramas, more historical meat.
  
• Inspirationals strong, but must integrate realities and questions of life
  
• Perseverence and success in the face of seemingly insurmountable odds is always a good theme.
• Good vs. Evil, always a good theme, but make it real.
  
• Oh, and the theme of fighting or subverting an ever-encroaching totalitarian government should also be popular in science fiction/fantasy/romance. Wouldn't hurt to bring back a Matrix-like theme, although I expect that'll be more like 10 years from now.
• More can-do, decent, heroic guys. Guys need hope, too, and they're going to be looking for something to keep them working and holding on. As a result, it'd be good to defeminize the covers on the action/romance/supspense romances--not a problem, as I see they're doing much of that already. Wouldn't hurt to do that to some of the historicals that have more action/suspense, etc., too.
• Forgot to mention above: Graphic novels. Always a good thing. Will do very well in the coming decade(s) as they are very adaptable to both print and electronic media, and the concepts are easily transferred to the big (and small) screen. The more mutable a story is to differing formats, the better. If a romance novel--especially if action, suspense, and/or paranormal--can be translated to a graphic novel/manga format, perfect.
  

One more thing: Because the Millenial Generation is large in numbers but is going to be struggling for jobs, they're going to try to find their entertainment where they can, whether they make it or find it inexpensively. This means the publishing industry will have to find better ways to deliver their goods. They know this already, or should. E-books will do well, I'm sure, but if they're the same price as paper books...well, we'll see. Those who have a handle on this relatively new technology (and please, formatting!!!!), will do better than others, in the same way movie theaters that grasped the sound aspect of movies back during the Great Depression thrived rather than went out of business. It's a big initial investment, but it'll pay out in the end in both stability and profits when the economy turns up better (not right away. Expect a big downturn around 2012, and with luck it'll start rising steadily again. What mistakes this and the last administration have made will come to bear then. Invest in capital and be thrifty now, pay off what you can, then be prepared).

Even so, I don't expect paper books to disappear for a long, long, long time.

You fill a need in an economy, and you will survive as a business, and publishing is a business. Hope is a need. And in this economy, everyone needs hope pretty badly right now.

Character studies

From 6/2/06 - whew!  This shows how long the Irish werewolf story has been brewing:

Been getting a bit antsy about writing--feeling like I want to write another story already. I don’t want to start the actual chapters yet, because I want to give this story some time to jell. So, I’m skirting the story, mulling it over in my mind, getting flashes of scenes, thinking of each character and what they’re like.

I have a good idea for the heroine--practical, managing, no-nonsense, a woman of authority in her little village, and she doesn’t take guff from anyone. In my last two books, the heroines were victimized, and had to climb out of the horrors into which they’d been thrust. But this determined Irish heroine is different, and I’m feeling a good deal of relief at the idea that she’s very managing, and she’s the one to whom everyone goes when there’s a problem, and even the village priest will ask her to intercede in local squabbles. She’s so capable and manages...everything and everybody. She’s got a good deal of pride, for she’s from a long line of Bean Sidhe (aka banshee)--wise women who have just a bit of faerie in them, and who have inherited the Sight. Her grandmother was a Bean Sidhe, and my heroine--I think I’ll call her Mary Kate McCree--learned everything from her. I think Mary Kate looks a bit like the actress Maureen O’Hara--auburn haired and voluptuous, and a spitfire attitude.

I even have in mind what her cottage might look like. It’s got a thatched roof, it’s got wood siding and green trim. She’s got pretty lace curtains at the windows, and a nice big porch, with a gravel path through a glorious flower and herb garden. There’s a vegetable garden out back, and a nanny goat in a neat small barn to the right of the cottage, for both milk and butter. She’s got a brother and sister, both younger than herself. I think she’s about 25, which is a bit of an “old maid” for that time (1798 or so), but that’s because while the villagers respect her, they’re also intimidated by her. Her younger brother, Brian, is 22, and is smart enough for Dublin University, where he’s a scholar, but terribly idealistic. He’s being recruited by some Irish rebels, unbeknownst to Mary Kate. Her younger sister, Bridget, is about 17, very pretty and blonde, and much less intimidating than Mary Kate, so has more than a few suitors. But though Bridget has shown no sign of the Sight, she’s a good herbalist and very quick-witted.

The hero, though...I’m having a little more difficulty visualizing him. I’ve decided his name will be James Marstone, and related to the Marstones I’ve written about before. He’s English, and has inherited the local castle, which is not in good repair. Of course, being English, he won’t be liked. And, since he’s living in the castle, which is supposedly cursed, he’s going to feel pretty isolated because nobody wants to work for him. And since he’s also become a werewolf, he’ll be bewildered because he doesn’t remember what he’s done or where he’s been at night during the full moon. But that’s all I’ve got on him. I’ll have to figure out how he became cursed, who cursed him, and why. Although, perhaps that’s a mystery in the novel to be solved. Certainly, nobody in the village wants him there, for he’s a damned Sassanach, and a Protestant to boot.

I know what’s going to bring them together: James Marstone will have young Brian arrested for treason, since he’s been linked to the Irish rebels who blew up something or other. Mary Kate’s going to have to figure out a way to persuade Marstone to let him go. And that bit is going to follow the Grimm’s fairy tale of “The Peasant’s Clever Daughter,” because that’s what I’m basing this story on. Mary Kate’s the sort to do anything for family, even if it’s a blot on her sense of pride.

It won’t be all grim and dark, though. I’m running out of fuel for grim and dark, because I’ve done that with the last three books. This will be lighter, with hopefully lots of banter, because Mary Kate has a quick tongue on her and will get in the last word if she can, and James is no slacker in the repartee department.

Oh, and the village. I haven’t thought of a name for the little Irish village. That place is almost a character in itself. I need to think of a good name, but I don’t know much about Celtic names and what they mean. I think I need something that has to do with “wolf” or faeries. This should be fun: I think I have the Irish speech rhythms in my head pretty well, so the dialogue should have a nice flavor of it. Sure, and I’m thinkin’ it’ll sound fair authentic. ☺

So anyway, that’s what I’ve thought up so far, and with any luck, my publisher will like it.

Well, heck. Here I’ve written all this stuff down, not just mulled it about in my mind. Very well. I’ll keep a copy of this for my files and refer to it again, maybe flesh it out more as I think about it. But I will not start writing the chapters until I have the characters better fleshed out in my mind, and I need to visualize where they are and where they live, and what they look like. I’m really feeling the urge to write the chapters, but I think my big mistake in the past has been jumping into that and then getting stuck because I haven’t thought it through. I really think I need to back off that and do some solid groundwork before I even begin the actual chapters.

Besides, I don’t yet know who cursed James Marstone and why. It could be that I’ll figure it out while I’m writing it, but...no. Gotta try to flesh out the story line and characters first. If I don’t know who the characters are and where they’re coming from, I won’t know where they’re going.