…the lack of resolution is not a mistake. There will be no resolutions, goal setting, revisiting the year or sappy bits of gratitude in this blog. Everyone in the blogisphere has more than covered these topics already and I even did the sappy bits of gratitude on my other blog here.

Today is about trying something new. Now, I don’t mean because it’s a new year lets say what new thing we are going to do this time around. What I mean is trying something new in writing. I’ve spent my weekend venturing way outside my comfort zone. A couple months ago an idea for a short story erotic romance popped into my head. It was brought on by the news that Samhain Publishing sent out an open submissions call for several anthologies planned for next year. The deadline is January 10 and as usual, I’ve put things off until the last minute.

But with the help of our trusty Captain, I made it past a block at the end of last week and the story took over during the weekend. I spent nearly eight hours writing something I had never written before – SEX. That’s right, technically, I have never written a sex scene and now I’ve written two and a half. Yes, I left the poor souls in the middle of *it* so I could write this blog and get to bed. I’m one of the unfortunate ones who have to work today.

I posted a snippet of my first sex scene for some writer friends and the feedback has been pretty positive. Very positive in fact. They could just be shooting smoke up my ass, for which I am highly grateful, but I think I might be pretty good at this. Not great but pretty good.

This is one of the aspects I love about writing. Everytime I learn something new or write something I never thought I could pull off, it’s like a high. It’s a rush and it makes me want to write more. Call it momentum or delusions of grandeur but whatever it is, I like it.

What have you written that took you completely by surprise? What do you think you write best? What do you think you could never write in a million years? Tell us about a scene you wrote that made you sit back and say, “Oh yeah, that’s good.” And don’t say that’s never happened. Even if you hated the scene the next day, there was a time, maybe just a matter of minutes, when you loved it.

Twas the night before Christmas and all aboard the Revenge,
Not a crewmember stirred, following their rum-drinking binge.
The booty bags hung by their hammocks with care,
In hopes that Jack Sparrow would soon be there.

The crew were all nestled snug tight in their ‘mocks,
Smelling faintly of grog as they clung tight to their crocks.
And whilst with me book, I lay with a pistol in hand,
Thinking a nip of Bailey’s and chocolate would be grand.

When out on the dock there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my Captain’s bed to see what was the matter!
Away to the top, I flew like a flash,
Scarcely having time to tighten my sash.

And there in the crow’s nest, I saw such a sight,
Lit by the moon, which was full on this night.
A bold, handsome pirate swung from the rope to the floor:
“I’m here, lass, for Christmas, could you want anything more?”

Well, truth be told, I’d been such a good lass—
Not a bit of wickedness and only a touch of sass.
I was quite deserving of a pirate for my very own keep.
I hope he was well rested for he wasn’t getting any sleep.

From his fierce blazing look that could freeze a girl’s very marrow,
I knew in an instant this must be the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow.
Quick as cannon fire, he called for his men to make way:
“Come, Will, come Ranger, we haven’t got all day.”

From the sides of the ship climbed these brawn men drawing swords,
Their proud countenances as fierce as any romance’s brooding lord’s.
“Where’s Sin?” said the dark one, who I knew to be Carlos—
When it came to Christmas, he’d be the present she’d want most.

I enjoy music, but I wouldn’t consider myself the type of person who needs to be inundated with music all day long. You definitely wouldn’t see me going about my life’s business, an IPod headphone perpetually in my ear like all the teenagers. (Boy, I sound old). To date myself further, I don’t even own an IPod. I listen in the car, I listen if I need some auditory stimulation, but besides that, I can take it or leave it.

However, as I’m plotting out my new contemporary, I find that it is more musically charged than the Regency I’ve lost interest in (for now). Different plot aspects get me humming some song or another and making thematic parallels to music.

I find this a little disconcerting because it did NOT happen while I was working on my last WIP. And I’m wondering if that isn’t why my last WIP started feeling so stiff and dead as I worked into the dreaded middle of it. It lacked that emotion, the feeling that I know, from my experience as a reader, that other readers want.

It isn’t just any song that I think of when I’m working my new WIP. I realized my earlier statement sounded like every time I opened the lid on my computer that I was swallowed into the Sound of Music or something. No, that isn’t it. Instead, there are a few songs that I think of when I’m writing. I think of them as the soundtrack of this book.

So far, there are three songs clanking around in my brain when I work on this novel: “Forgive” by Rebecca Lynn Howard, “You’re So Vain” by Carly Simon, and “I Apologize” by One Republic. Amazingly, anytime I find myself stuck for an idea, I just have to listen to one of these songs and I’m immediately back into my WIP, full of the emotions I want to encapsulate, and ready to get to work again.

Does your work have a soundtrack? And if so, what songs can you find on it? Does music play a role in your writing and if so, what role?

As an aside, I attempted to load a couple of those songs in here, but I’m video upload incompetent. Apologies. But, they’re all on YouTube, if you’re interested.

I think about writing while I’m in the shower in the morning, conversations between my two main characters flowing like the water from the showerhead. Dreams are what give me ideas, thoughts, conversations, pieces to carry over into fiction land. It’s like acting out a scene before writing it down. One of those poetry in motion thingys. And for me, it’s perfect. I’ve always been very hands on, sticking my nose into everything. I’ve gotta see it done first before I can write it. So if I can’t see the scene, it can’t be written the way I want it and I’m stuck. But with dreams, anything can happen. Anything in your wildest dreams. And opportunity and imagination are the two best things you can have as a writer. With a strong compass to guide you and a closet full of hats to put on *grin*

So, my question to you today is: Ever have those dreams that just stick with you? The ones that when you wake up in the morning and have you thinking about your plot and characters and setting? Do you use them as a guide?

I had a different log written and planned for today, but as with many things on the ship, I realized as I climbed into bed, tucked my pistol under my pillow, and settled down for a much-needed snooze that this instead needed to be said. Especially so soon before Christmas and New Year’s, a time of year where we think of everyone but ourselves.

Don your Just For Me hat.

We’re expected everyday to wear so many different hats. Our pirate’s hat; our wife hat; our mother’s hat; our bitch’s hat; our writer’s hat; our 9-to-5 hat; our counselor’s hat; our friend hat; our professor’s hat; our housekeeping hat; our Martha Stewart hat; our Budget Queen hat; our Harry Potter Making Magic from Nothing hat….

I myself like a good hat. A lovely plume, a certain richness in the fabric as it folds up into the tricorn…but with all these hats and expectations of our time, we don’t have time to ever wear our Just For Me hat. Worse, we believe, inherently, we also do not have money for such a selfish act…and frankly, just who do we think we are that we deserve a hat that serves no function than other than to be for ourselves?

This is faulty thinking–because despite the title of the Harry Potter hat, you really can’t make something out of nothing. You’re giving up a little bit of yourself with each hat you whip on and off with flair and haste, seamlessly moving from one role to the other, without any regard to why you are doing it, only that it is an important job to be done and SOMEBODY has to do it.

It is little wonder then that at the end of the day, when all is said and done, why any of us would have the energy, desire, or need to even put a string of words on the page. What’s left to fill the blank white space when everything has been sapped by things that needed to be taken care of first–but in which the most important thing, YOU, had not been taken care of at all?

Who in their right minds would want to empty themselves on a page when there is nothing left to give?

You have to fill yourself first before you can put something on the page. And in order to do that, you have to remember you’re worth the consideration of doing something Just for Me. And I’m sure if you turned off the Internal Critic who reminds you that the credit card bill is due, the kids need to get to practice on time, and supper needs to be fixed (since Redbook pointed out that tragically we don’t get home-cooked meals near as often as we get fast food) that you would realize you too deserve just as much attention and time as you give to everyone else.

So go wild. Take a soak in the bathtub and read an extra chapter. Or go wilder, and get an hour massage, followed by a pedicure. Get your hair done. Buy a book you’ve had your eye on. Pop in your yoga tape and do some Half-Moon poses and breathe deeply, enjoying this time you’ve taken just for yourself.

Doing this you may find your Muse is more willing to hang out with you again…and offer you more to empty on your blank pages.

A familiar tool found in any sea worthy pirate’s pocket is a trusty compass. It helps chart a destination, and keeps the ship on a desired course for the next keg of rum. A writer is not unlike a pirate. We have goals, and outlines we follow in order to meet a desired destination.

Internally I carry a compass of my own. It has been internalized in me since I was a small child. I have a moral compass, and more often than not, it guides me in daily decisions as well as what I choose to write.

I‘m not morally perfect, and I‘m not trying to blog a sermon, but I want to raise the question of morality in writing.

I have found that the more I write and work toward a goal of completing a WIP, the more concerned I become about what I write. I find that more often times than not, my writing self becomes at odds with my moral compass. I find freedom in writing, and to put restraints or limits on writing can remove all liberty of expression. Although I am writing to please me, what I write has the possibility of influencing a great number of readers. I want the freedom to write, but I want to convey the right message. I feel as a writer that I have a certain responsibility to represent who I am in the words and scenarios I choose to write.

Writers display certain morals in the characters they create. As writers, we have discussed creating characters that we dislike, or we allow our characters to do and say things that we normally would never convey in our own lives. The freedom to create our visions is the joy of writing. However, character creation is only a small portion of our influential writing potential. We can also influence readers through dialog, violence, and sexuality. We cannot censor what age groups have access to our work, and maybe that is not an issue to most writers, but we are responsible as individuals for what we write. Romance novels are not found next to self-help books, and religious philosophy at Barnes and Noble. We are not writing romance to save the world from moral corruption, but even a love story has the ability to influence potential readers.

Do you write with a moral compass, or does morality even play a factor in your writing style?

Generally, I’m the easy-going type. I get along with most other people and I generally don’t get into any sort of confrontation. This is due to my tendency to apologize immediately if I feel like I’ve accidentally insulted someone. Like most women, I probably apologize too much. But, I don’t like people not to like me. I’m sort of a “can’t we all just get along” type. That is, in my real life.

In the fictional world I create on paper (read: Word doc), I am the bitchiest of pirates. I break people up, just to get them back together. I wield my sharp sword (read: pen, er… read: keys on my keyboard) and slice happy families apart. I wreak havoc among perfectly laid plans, messing up perfectly comfortable lives, all in the name of telling a great story.

The bitch hat (it’s a figurative hat, of course) is my greatest writerly supply. Because, that part of me is what helps me tell good stories.

If I sat at my computer and happily allowed my perfectly contented characters to move about in their perfectly comfortable lives (or even their not-so-perfectly comfortable lives), then what kind of story would that be? It’d be the perfectly boring story that no one would want to read. We live to see people overcome obstacles. It’s what keeps us reading, so we can see how it all works out.

But, sometimes being this bitch hurts the sweet, can’t-we-all-get-along part of me that wants everyone to like me. At times like that, I have to ignore the characters in my head calling me names (“You big meanie!”) and pull my bitch hat down over my ears so that I can continue to slice and hack away at their lives.

It’s hard for me. My heart hurts for them. However, I know it will all work out in the end. I know that when the time comes, I’ll be able to hang my bitch hat next to my computer and let the romantic part of me that is dying for everyone to be happy write everything perfect again.

Thank God for my bitch hat. My computer, my post-it notes, they pale in comparison to how important it is to my writing. I’m not sure how I could have the tough love to do what I need to do to these fictional people without it.

I always wonder about writers who don’t let their characters get their happy endings because they never get to take off their bitch hats.

I’ve read all sorts of stuff in my English major/English teacher lifetime. I swore that American authors, particularly in the 18th and 19th centuries, wouldn’t have known a happy ending if they fell in one. People who write horror, like Stephen King and Dean Koontz, never get the satisfaction of HEA, at least not the way I write it. I picture them writing “the end” and then going off to therapy or to their priests, complaining about the darkness of the world.

I’m so glad I get to spread a little light.

If you’re a writer, how do you feel about causing turmoil in your characters’ lives? Are you of the yay, free therapy school or are you (like me) of the “when can I get to the HEA” school? How do you approach writing conflict in your stories, as I’m certain my “bitch hat” method isn’t the only one out there?

Anna Sudgen!

You have won your very own copy of Anna Campbell’s Untouched. Please email me at djtlo AT yahoo DOT com. (I couldn’t get that cool link thing to work, dang it.)

Thanks again to everyone for visiting the Romance Writer’s Revenge, sharing in our rum and making Anna’s “Pirate Queen for a Day” day such a success.