I got out of work late. Stupid traffic was holding me up. After all day of listening to my heroine and her sister fight, I was in the mood to get home. But the weather had been bad since 2 o’clock, dropping 40 degrees and leaving people in a rush to get home. Unfortunately, no one in Missouri remembered what a little snow looked like and were driving like they just stepped off the Caribbean Cruise Ship.

I looked at the stoplight. It was green and I still wasn’t moving. In the car in front of me, the driver was talking on their cell phone. I bit my lower lip. I was tempted to honk my horn. But no need. The jackass behind me wasn’t holding back and had been laying on his horn for the past five minutes. The nice lady flipped me off repeatedly. Just freakin’ lovely.

I watched as her brake lights went off, the line moved; and we crept along at 5 mph until we hit the next light, idling by while I watch the cars in the opposite lane move along steadily. I sighed.

“I thought I told you I wanted to shoot someone.” The voice in my head said and I could hear the pout in her voice. “You made me a computer nerd.”

“Hm.” I thought, accelerating through the light. “I made you a computer nerd because you’re brilliant, you twit.”

“I don’t like it.”

“I don’t really care. Suffer. I have to suffer from you yapping at me at 3 am. And Ash too. And now Ruiz. I swear, don’t you people sleep?”

She laughed at me. Laughed! “Did you expect me to sleep with a roommate like that?”

Actually no. But I kept that to myself. “But don’t you like the ending? You’re rather kick ass in the ending. In fact, you’re rather kick ass throughout the whole thing.”

“I know,” she huffed. “But I wanted to be a bad ass agent. And you cut me off at the knees.”

I stopped at the last light before hitting the county road to my house. “Dude. Chill. You can do things that I could never possibly do. I can’t hack into someone’s computer and not worry about not getting caught. I can’t pack around a 9mm at my lower back and walk through areas deemed not fit for convicts let alone white girls looking for trouble. I mean seriously,” I paused, checking over my shoulder so I could pass the slow poke old man in front of me. “You have a hot roomie. A hot agent to work with. A hot detective sniffing at your heels. And you have a kick ass job. How can you not be happy?”

“Can’t you just change a few things? You’re screwing with my flow.”

“That’s my job.” I mentally rolled my eyes. “Like what exactly do you want me to change?” I pulled into my parking space. “I’ve changed so much crap in the past year that I’ve had to scrap over 100k because of you. You’re fickle and sometimes you’re bitchy to me.” I sniffed. “That kind of hurts my feelings, you know?”

She stomped on a brain cell and there was a pulsing headache behind my right eye now. “Shut up you cry baby. I swear I don’t know how we got paired together.”

I laughed. “Because sometimes I can plot my way out of a wet paper bag.”

She snorted. “Well you better prove it because this story you got me wrapped up in is some twisted shit. I can’t believe you.”

“If you can just hang on a second I’ll show you.”

I run inside and drop my things. The house is in utter chaos. Dinner still needs to be done. Things before bedtime need to be finished. But I have to get on the computer fast because she’s talking to me. Which means, she’s going to cooperate for the five seconds she’s still around.

I grabbed the laptop like a woman possessed, turning it on, chanting to myself “hurry, hurry, hurry,” and finally it comes up. I shove my flash drive in, pull up the document, and call out.

“Hey? You there?”

Nothing.

There was screaming in the background. Blaring of the TV. Running of water. Dishes being flopped around. The neighbors are making a bunch of noise. And still there’s nothing.

“S, you there?”

Still nothing. I sighed. And yet another moment gone with a chance to write because I was stuck in traffic. Another moment gone because I was sleeping. Another moment gone because I was in a meeting, teleconference, running on the treadmill, cooking dinner, washing dishes… you name it.

The only way to get through to my heroine is to channel lock her. I sit down. I pull up Word. And I just write anything that comes to mind. The best way to get her to come out and play nicely, is to force her to play along. Even if you write scenes that you’ll never use in your WIP, what better way to understand them thoroughly than to write and work with them? What better way to learn your character than channeling them even when they aren’t ready.

And when all else fails, grab some rum.

Seriously.

Now, there was really no point to this. I needed something happy (yes, this is about as happy as I get), even though Capt’n’s blog was quite fabulous and thought provoking yesterday, I figured the only way I could improve was by kicking blind puppies. (And no, Hellion, contrary to popular belief, I don’t kick blind puppies.)

PS. In case you didn’t know, that was my day yesterday. :)

So today’s thought provoking moment is pretty simple. How do you capture those moments when your characters strike without warning and you’re without your favorite method of capturing it? And when does it happen to you the most?

What’s the scariest thing you’ve ever done? Skydiving? Pish-posh. Giving birth? Thousands of women do that every day and live to tell the tale. No. What’s truly frightening?

Yeah, that.

Pulling your deepest, most inner demons to the light of day and slapping them in the middle of your story.

Okay, Boatswain is already shaking her head because her characters tend to talk more amongst themselves and she writes it down like an Imperial Secretary; however, I’m a Pisces, and therefore, odd, and tend to empathize with just about anything I meet: movies, television series, Hallmark commercials. Doesn’t matter, and obviously it also doesn’t matter that none of the people affiliated with the things I mentioned actually exist. Trifles.

When I write, it’s the same. I have to know my characters enough to empathize with them, to sort of step in their skin and channel them onto the page. When I’m writing from one POV to the other, I am that person. Which is a little frightening, especially if you’re playing a character either not at all like you (the villain) or someone really like you. In both cases, you’re pulling feelings from within you, feelings that therefore exist.

If you’re pretending to be a serial killer, you try to convey the rationalization of why you kill; and if you capture it and put it on the page, you suddenly realize: Dude, I just justified cold-blooded murder. You wonder about yourself…and you definitely stop willy-nilly saying throwaway lines like, “I’m going to kill you” when someone does something to irritate you. Because now you’re thinking, well, obviously I could, how sick am I?

But pretend you write fluffy stories. You’re still going to have a villain. But say it’s a cold-hearted mother-type or the manipulative hussy who’s wreaking havoc at large. You step inside that role, write out this magnificent scene, and waltz off stage left. You look at the scene again, and you think, “I need a shower. Am I that much of a manipulative bitch?” You ask your husband, which is always a bad idea. Oh, sure, he answers it correctly if he has any sense whatsoever (”Of course not, honey”), but deep down, you knew there was not really a right answer here; there was only a wrong one.

So you move onto your heroine, someone in which you can identify, someone who fears rejection—and you pull out all the stops, pull up every bit of drama from your high school prom, crank up the Def Leppard ballads—and write the Blackest Moment where all your heroine’s neuroses bite her in the ass. Then you re-read it, and you realize if anyone from high school reads your book, they will immediately know your heroine is you. Your critique partner reads it—and though she was never in high school with you and therefore is unaware what a complete loser you were—and says: “Wow, this sounds just like you.” It will not matter that your scene does not take place anywhere near a senior prom.

But here’s the thing. Emotion is universal. Communication is about relating to another individual, to be understood, to be accepted, and writing is one of the most basic ways to do that. Love and conflict (i.e. rejection, bias, hate, misunderstandings)—that is universal. Every story ever written can be distilled to one or both of these themes. Emotion is universal, like song; but your voice, like lyrics, is what makes the story yours to tell. Don’t worry that everyone who’s reading your book is thinking “this sounds like her reaction at her high school prom” because it’s much more likely they’re thinking, “God, I’ve so been there.” And that’s what you were shooting for, right?

You as a person are separate from the writing you put on the page. Just because you write about serial killers and nymphomaniacs and God forbid, the woman-superior position, you’re not a killer or a slut—and no one is going to think you are. Okay, some crazy interviewer someday might say, “Where do you get your inspiration for your sex scenes?”—but those are people who don’t understand; and they are certainly not people who should be taken into consideration when you’re putting your words on the public page. Don’t be scared; don’t avoid it because people might think you’re bad or wrong; and don’t judge yourself for writing it. You’re not doing yourself or your characters any favors by holding back. You are not your characters, no matter how much of yourself you might find within them.

Just thought I’d send out a little reassurance in case anyone thought they were turning into a serial killer. Unlikely. Though you might want to take some time to decompress, play with some puppies or try channeling a character whose idea of a dark side is much like Sally Albright.

What’s the scariest thing you’ve ever written and why did it bother you? What author do you think can tap into that Universal Factor, that “I’ve so been there”? Any book or scene that comes to mind? Anyone else wish Santa was blogging about men again? How many just caught on that the Johnny Depp picture has absolutely nothing to do with my blog?

For as long as I can remember, I’ve found people, men in particular, to be fascinating. While the love of the written word has been in my blood for as long as I can remember, the very nature of human nature never ceases to amaze me. And as a writer, I find my male characters, both hero and secondary, enthralling. And I wonder to myself – Just what are they thinking?

So, with all the drinking we do around here, all the yelling to other boats the Captain does when she’s had a little (read: gallons) too much rum, there’s always the chance someone could fall overboard. Now, you could bring up the Pirate Code – Anyone who falls behind is left behind – but we’re a more tender hearted lot of pirates. We’ll haul that person’s ass back in the boat and then remind her every other week about the time she was too stupid to stay on the damn ship.

Anyhoo, we figured we needed a sturdy, handy-dandy, “ass-hauling out of water” member of the crew. And we found the perfect recruit. Meet Lance the Pirate Lifeguard.

Now, by the looks of his lifesaver, Lance still needs some training. But, from the looks of his abs, we’re willing to give him the job anyway. Can’t you just see him, all oiled up and wearing those tight pirate breeches with those knee high boots? Hmmmm….I can see it. Oh yes, I’m seeing it….

Where was I? Oh yeah, so Lance is in charge of hauling asses back onto the ship. Anyone ready to jump? Hey!! Where’d everybody go? Hello?

Well, for those of you with some decorum who have stuck around, I wanted to take the chance to update you on our fantastic line-up of guest bloggers. So far, this is what you have to look forward to. Please mark your calendars accordingly. *g*

January 28 - Aspiring author, Santa Burns, joins the ranks for her first blog ever. She’s jumping in with both feet (I think she likes Lance) and covering the topic of “What are men really thinking anyway?” You know you want the answer to that question. Be here Monday when Santa explains it all.

February 5 – Colleen Gleason visits to talk about the latest book in her Gardella Vampire Chronicles, The Bleeding Dusk. Dark, Regency Paranormal, this heroine is not your typical society debutante. In fact, there is nothing typical about Ms. Gleason’s books.

March 19 – Pamela Clare writes incredible Romantic Suspense books as well as Historicals. She’ll be visiting to talk about her next Romantic Suspense release, Unlawful Contact. The follow up to Extreme Exposure and Hard Evidence, this Investigative Reporter turned author creates characters and stories that will put you on the edge of your seat. And keep you there.

April 7 – We’ll turn it up a few degrees with Erotica author Lacey Alexander aboard ship. With sex that makes you sweat, sigh and slide out of your chair, Seven Nights of Sin, Lacey’s next Erotica book, hits the shelves in April. A must read for all those rainy April nights.

April 14 – Harlequin Intrigue author Dana Marton will join us to talk about her next release, 72 Hours. Ms. Marton’s International stories are packed with heroes who save the world and enough danger to keep you up at night. Well, the heroes might keep you up at night as well.

May 6 – Colette Gale twists classic stories in a way you’ve probably never imagined. In Master, Ms. Gale told the story of The Count of Monte Cristo as it’s never been told before and did the same with The Phantom of the Opera in her latest release, Unmasked. These Erotic tales will take you on a sensual journey that leaves you breathless and wanting more.

May 14 - Harlequin Mills & Boon author Annie West writes for the Presents, Modern and Sexy lines giving us some of the hottest Alpha heroes you’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. And I do mean pleasure. Ms. West will come aboard to talk about her May release, The Greek Tycoon’s Unexpected Wife. Come on, you have to stop just so you can ask her about that title!

June 2 – Toni Blake is an Erotic Romance author who sets the pages on fire. You’ll swear you burned your fingers just holding the book. Ms. Blake will be here to talk about her June release, Letters to a Secret Lover, “A full length novel about love, sex and forgiveness.” Don’t miss it!

July 1 - Kimberly Killion celebrates with us the release of her debut novel, Her One Desire. Set in England in 1483, this story of Lady Lizbeth Ives, daughter of the Lord High Executioner, and Lord Broderick Maxwell promises to be the must read book of the summer. Ms. Killion has agreed to be our first true interview, bless her heart. You won’t want to miss this one.

So, you’re shuffling along in your story, plowing through scene upon scene like Captain Jack Sparrow cutting the crowd at a party on his way to the rum punch. When I say you, I am, of course, referencing the ubiquitous you, the you that would be all of us if we were sitting at our keyboard writing this instance. Hey, it’s easier on me psychologically if it’s you and not me. Stay with me here. So, you’re plugging along in your story and suddenly, blam, you start questioning yourself. How am I doing? You worry. Will anyone want to read this? You fret. Who cares what I have to say anyway?! You panic. These conversations can occur late at night while you’re wired up on caffeine or feeling a little loopy from an extra glass of wine. But, they can definitely occur when you’re in the middle of your WIP and you’re starting to question what in the name of Peter, Paul, and Mary got you moving along this particular writing path in the first place.

Not pointing any fingers here, but that’s definitely happened to someone on this boat. Ok, I give up. It’s me. In fact, my moments of vulnerability have been aired out on my own blog and my critique group here on the boat are certainly privy to them.

Now, what keeps you, er… me, ok us, going through this? What stops us from closing up that file and burying it under our beds (or at least in the back of the Word.doc files)? What gives us the strength to keep writing through the black moments in our work?

Our point, that’s what. That bit of truth at the core of the story.

And don’t tell me that you don’t have a point because I’m sure you do.

I’ve been reading romance a long time and the books that stay with me stay because they said something. Their message or core idea didn’t have to end poverty, promote world peace, or cure cancer but it had to resonate inside of me. At the end, I would put the book down and feel uplifted, like I understood the world just little better.

This past week, I realized that I had something to say. Who knew, huh?

In my WIP, my heroine, Cory, watched her father’s unrequited love of her mother and vows to avoid love’s complications in her own marriage. My hero, Will, has been burned by love in the past and isn’t sure that it’s worth trying again. Through the course of their story, they realize that love is worth any risk.

Sounds like an ok story, right? My characters learn something, the end. But, in fact, this story means more to me than that. This story gets at what I personally have to say to the world; that really, there isn’t anything as important as love.

This message is what keeps me pushing. I know that others have tackled this theme. I have no delusions that I am the first, or last, writer to express this thought. But, like those great stories I’ve read, I’m hoping that I tell the story in such a way that my reader, after turning that last page, feels like they understand the world a little bit better too.

So, dearest wenches, what is it that you are trying to say (ie, what’s your Core Idea)? What keeps you writing your story through your black moments? How do you shore up that sagging middle? And when do you feel the weakest in your writing, morning, night, beginning of story vs the end, sex scenes vs black moments? Do tell.

Once upon a time, long before calendars were kept but not before things were recorded, God gave Moses a list of Ten Commandments, commandments we’ve spent the better part of several thousand years since breaking at every opportunity. (Some of us more than others.) Mostly, if you think about the commandments, they are rules for getting along with everyone else. They’re more rules of how to live a happy, full life. For instance, if you commit adultery with a woman whose husband is bigger than you and also owns a gun, odds are you will not live a long and happy life. It just makes good sense.

Many rules for writing are there to help the writer have a full, happy writing life. There are a number of writing commandments. Thou shalt not commit the sin of atrocious grammar and spelling. Thou shall be most engaging in your story opening and maintain a breakneck pace throughout the story’s arc. If you’re writing a romance, thou shalt have the hero make love only with the heroine; if he has a mistress at the beginning of the tale and she is not the heroine, he will give her her farewell necklace soon after he meets the heroine. Thou shalt show and not tell. Thou shalt not commit the sin of passive voice.

On and on until we’re certain that there are more rules to writing than we could possibly ever learn or implement. We become paralyzed before the computer screen, wondering what grievous writing sin we’ll be committing today! It’s a wonder we ever reach the end of a single tale we craft.

Well, if you recall, once upon a time, long after Moses brought down those stone tablets, but again, before anyone kept any decent calendars, Jesus came and gave us the Golden Rule, which was, in essence, a rule that seemed to contain all the other commandments before it. If you kept this rule, you couldn’t help but keep the rest. Do unto others as you would have done unto you. (I.e. if you don’t want anyone cuckolding to you, don’t be going out and committing adultery, right? Makes sense to me.)

Writing also has a Golden Rule, one in which I believe if you abide by, all the other commandments are followed naturally. Ted Kooser, our national Poet Laureate and Pulitzer Prize winner—expressed it best. He said, “But in writing there are no rules other than to remember that somebody’s going to try to read what you’ve written and you don’t want to discourage that person.”

Makes sense, doesn’t it? Just write…and keep in mind someone else is going to read this. Try not to discourage them from getting to The End.

What’s your writing golden rule? What do you think is the best way to keep people reading to the end? Characters? Nail-biting pacing? The unforeseeable twist at the end?