I’ve mentioned here before that the hero of my WIP is a chef.  He’s recently purchased a restaurant and put everything he has into making it a success.  The irony of me writing a book about a chef is that I don’t really cook.  I mean, I make things like baked chicken, spaghetti, and several things that come out of a box, but I don’t think that really counts as cooking.  Spices are a mystery to me and though I know I like flavor, I don’t know how to incorporate it into my meals.

So why would I be stupid enough to write about a chef?  Well, first off, he showed up in my head that way.  My characters show up pretty much with names and occupations intact and I don’t have much say in the matter.  Secondly, I think chefs are hot.  Who needs a third reason when you have reason two?

I’ve read books and watched movies set in restaurants and I’m an avid Top Chef watcher.  But I know that isn’t going to be enough to really write a busy restaurant kitchen scene and make it come to life.  My goal was to find some restaurant that would allow me to hover in a back corner out of the way and just observe.  And by some miracle, I’m actually going to meet that goal and then some.

Turns out, a friend of mine who also happens to be a writer (I know, big shocker!) has a nephew that owns a restaurant in Richmond.  She’s willing to take me up there, introduce me to her nephew (who is about my age, single, and supposedly looks like Tom Cruise), and get me a seat in the corner of the kitchen.  Also by some miracle, this restaurant serves the exact kind of food I’ve already written into the story.  I mean, come on, this is too good to be true!

Have you ever created a situation in a book then realized you didn’t know a thing about it?  How far have you gone for research?  How far would you go?  If you’re a reader, what book took you to a place or taught you about an occupation or hobby and made you feel like you were right there doing everything with the characters?

Just a thought.

It’s passing at first. You walk down the hallway, up the stairs without the light thinking about it. You walk into the bedroom, ignoring the thought as you ready for bed. You sit on the edge of the bed, sinking into the softness as the thought mills around in your tired brain.

Ignore it. You’ve got better things to play out.

You lay your head on the pillow. You close your eyes slowly. The gentle glow from the TV is soothing, and the thought refuses to go away. You thought you could make it go away.

I mean, it’s only a thought. A brief moment, a flash through your subconscious.

But that thought brought your subconscious back into focus.

It brings you back together.

It pulls you apart.

The first glance into something new always sticks with you the hardest. It’s always the most vivid thought that keeps playing over and over again until you finally do something with it.

New stories are like that. Once they have you in their clutches, the new story doesn’t let you go. It builds. Gains momentum. Roars like a freight train coming around the bend. The fun and excitement of exploring new ideas, new directions, and new characters are what keep writer’s going through tough times when it’s not coming so easily anymore. New experiences keep our minds fresh and our writing strong so that those beginnings don’t turn into soggy middles and bad endings with loose ends.

But with all beginnings, we stumble and we fall. Beginnings bruise us from the inside out as we push through doubt and fear that our new start isn’t as great as we originally thought. So the trick is to work past the doubts; because in the beginning doubt will be the only thing that keeps you from moving forward. And with something new, doubt is just not acceptable.

So forge on, great writer, don’t let that beginning beat you down.

What is your favorite part about the beginning, whether it be from a writer or reader’s aspect?

As I mentioned yesterday, unless you’re living under a rock, you know the Olympics are going on right now in Beijing, China.  I’ve watched the Olympics for as long as I can remember. (Insert memory joke here)  As a child, I was always amazed by those who competed and wondered what that must be like.  Since there was nothing I did that would have put me on that path, those were bittersweet thoughts.

Then when I was the age that many Olympians are, I remember thinking that I hadn’t accomplished enough in life because these people were traveling the world, winning medals or just competing on that level and I could barely get to school or work on time.  Now I can watch the games, enjoy all the human interest stories, and understand the commitment and dedication it takes to reach that level without beating myself up or feeling inferior.

What does this have to do with writing?  Everything.  I’ve only been in pursuit of this publishing dream for less than two years.  In fact, I probably only admitted to myself just last year that I really do want to be published.  The birth of this dream happened when I met a group of talented women on the Eloisa James (then sans Julia Quinn) Bulletin Board and a bunch of us took part in the Avon Fanlit contest back in 2006.  Some of those women have gone on to finish multiple manuscripts, final in and win contests, and even sell their first books. 

In comparing my progress to these women, again it’s as if I’m watching those Olympians achieve their dreams while I sit idly by on my couch.  But this time I know it can be different.  Fortunately, there is no dream age for achieving that published status.  The only person who can shut me out of this game is me.

Publishing is my Olympics.  I’ve started my training by attending workshops and conferences.  Taken courses and received feedback from others that can only serve to make me better.  But this is only the beginning.  There is a huge amount of work ahead of me. 

When did you take up the dream of publishing?  Are you early in your training or are you a veteran in the field?  Have you given yourself a deadline to reach your goal or are you content to keep at it for as long as it takes?  In writing or anything in life, what dreams have you chased and how did it feel when you reached your goal?

The Romance Writer’s Revenge is proud to welcome Santa O’Byrne (or Sandra if she’s going to insist) back to the ship.  Here’s her take on the whole conference experience…

What is conference afterglow, you ask?

Conference afterglow is the surge of bliss, an unequivocal euphoria and bone deep contentment you feel after you’ve come away from a particularly gratifying experience at a conference.

That’s what I’m feeling right now.

And I’m hoping it lasts for a very long time because I’d like to savor the experience for a bit longer and draw all the inspiration I can from it before it all fades into the ether.  Inevitably, that’s what happens whenever you return from a conference or some sort of retreat.  You feel charged and ready to conquer the world – except the world has other plans for you.

Not me.  Not this time.  This time I’m going to record the five tenants I gleaned from this conference and they are:

Faith.

Hope.

Will.

Determination.

Perseverance.

Time and again I heard those tenants at this conference.  Not all at one time.  Not in any one workshop. But as I talked with agents and authors, both published and unpublished, I found these to be truths.   Sure, some of them came out of the gate with hot winners on their hands but their journey to that end was filled with many of the trials and struggles aspiring writers such as ourselves have gone through.  Those marvelously polished books were once manuscripts that were met with edits and revision requests even after they were bought.  And this after many years of writing and the legendary horde of manuscripts under the bed. 

But all these writers had FAITH that they would one day publish.  It was this faith that fostered the HOPE that their manuscripts would be accepted by an agent.  This hope drove their WILL to succeed in the often overwhelming world of publishing.  Their will only served to fuel their DETERMINATION to complete that manuscript, bringing them one step closer to publication.  And it was their determination to succeed that fostered the PERSERVERANCE to overcome any obstacles blocking their way to being published.

So, I’m applying them to my own writer’s journey.  As seen from a writer’s perspective they make complete sense to me.  I’m even thinking of having them framed around my work space – in big, bold letters – underlined and maybe even in italics.

So , what do you do to keep the conference fire burning?  How long have you managed to keep that conference afterglow?

I’m not a fan of TV series’. In fact, I don’t sit down for a lot of TV at all. Three years ago a commercial flashed across the screen. Very vivid imagery- especially with the blood red running like a river down the cobblestone road and the white roman garb dragging along the street, draped over luscious, barely covered bodies. It was sexy. It was bold. It caught my attention. Immediately, I knew I wanted to see what it was all about.Of course. It was on cable. Drat.

The horizon never quite looked this good. I was sure of it. I looked out at the watercolored hues meshed together in perfect harmony- pink swirled with the fairest shades of orange and purple. Dark purple clouds loomed nearby threatening the dawning stars. The brilliance of the sun struggled to hang on as it fell closer and closer to its nightly doom.

I felt at peace. That didn’t happen often. But somehow as the afternoon faded into dusk, everything seemed to fall into place. Even the way the cold glass was neutral beneath my touch seemed right. I could see like I’d never saw the world before. I could feel like I’d never touched before this moment. It was oddly fitting how this all turned around.

I never felt alive more than I did right now. Funny how he fought this with every fiber of his being. Tried to push me away and tried to make me see the light. Now that we had eternity together, maybe I could make him see there was no other place I’d rather be than with him. Nothing would keep me from doing just that. Not now, and not ever.

Music drifted around me. The strings and soft piano sang to my soul, lulling me take my eyes off the ever disappearing horizon and sway over to the open book on the desk. It was black, high gloss, the pages bound in red at the spine and hardcover to protect the precious story between them. My fingers danced over the words, lovingly written in plain scrawl. Easy to read. Mesmerizing with each word. Emotion that captivated you and pulled you into the scenes. I read every word with rapt fascination and fingered the pages with tender loving care.

It was the story of my life. The life I had before I became eternal. Those moments were few and far between in my memory but this… I touched the book and longed to remember. This was how I came to be. How we came to be. There was only one thing more precious to me than this.

And that was him.

I lifted the book into my opened hand and walked back to the window. The light was fading out. Night had approached. Soon the moon would sparkle over the creek. The starts would splatter against the black, shimmering like a million diamonds in the sky. Though my heart no longer beat, my breathing caught as I realized I was towards the end. It would soon be upon me again. The end of the life I’d been skimming before him. 

I looked out over the sky. It may be the end of the memoirs, oh, but it was only the beginning of my dreams. 

©cpt

As the stars start to come out over the horizon on Friday night, I will be at my local bookstore dancing like I’ve got ants in my pants for the highly anticipated release of Breaking Dawn (the fourth installment of the Twilight Saga and the ending of the story through the heroine, Bella, POV.)  by Stephanie Meyer. I have mixed feelings about reading the end. I know it’s not the end for them. Even if Stephanie Meyer never wrote another word of them, they would live on in my mind. They would haunt the fringes of my dreams and invade my daydreaming space. The relationship between the heroine and the hero is just so tangible, so real, so breathtaking and beautiful. I find myself forgetting to breathe during certain parts because you feel like you’re a voyeur on the scene and one breath will expose you and ruin it.

So today is a fairly easy question for everyone who didn’t make it to Nationals (we’ll just go next year!). Has a scene or a book just swept you away to the point it was all you could think about? How about writing that scene? What makes the deepest impressions on you?

Dear Jake,

By the time you read this blog I will be on a jet plane.  Don’t try to follow me.  Just let me go.  This is something I have to do.  I don’t think I can wait another day.

There’s just so much out there to discover.  I need to learn new things in order to grow.  I want you to be on fire and in order to do that I have to get in touch with some experts who can show me a few tricks of the trade.

Stay strong for me, Jake.  Trust me when I say this is the best for the both of us.  Keep that flame in your heart for me.  I’ll be back before you know it and ready to dig my talons into you.

LYG,

Sandra O’Byrne

Yes, friends, this year’s RWA Conference in San Francisco is my second one to date and I am really on fire about it.  Craft is where it’s at for me.  I went to the conference last year with a newly minted manuscript ready to seize the day.  I learned a lot from that conference.

How to pitch.

How to network.

How to make my manuscript an even better one.

And that’s what I’ve been doing this past year.  A pitch here.  A pitch there.  But mostly re-working my manuscript.  I’ve been honing my baby and making it an even better book.

What do I expect to gain from this year’s conference?

More knowledge, friends.

I’m also going to have a blast re-connecting with old friends, my favorite authors and getting to meet new friends I’ve made in the romance community.

And I’ll be joining Terri in squee’ing and celebrating the accomplishments of so many talented friends.

Ciao for now.  I’ll be seeing you on the blogs.

In case you’re wondering, Jake is the hero of Santa’s (nice of her to change her name on me, eh?) MS called Sweet Melissa.  I was hoping she’d bring him with her as we’re sharing a room and there’s always room for Jake, but nooooooo.  Since Santa is actually leaving on a jet plane today and many people will be pitching later this week or later this year, today we’re going to do a group pitch session.  Everyone give us your best one to three sentence pitch and lets see if we can sell some books! If you’re a reader, give us a pitch for one of your favorite books and see if we can guess which book you’re describing.

To help everyone out, here’s the best one-liner pitch advice you’ll ever find courtesy of Christina Dodd. 

Define the type of story, give a sense of the plot, use action verbs, and whet the reader’s appetite for more.

The countdown has begun.  This is my last blog before I leave for the RWA National Conference in San Francisco later this week.  *pauses as crew applauds*  Very funny.  Wenches.

This is my first national conference and my first time traveling cross-country.  I’m actually more excited than I am nervous, but I’m sure I’ll start shaking like a leaf once I walk into that hotel and see all the other attendees milling around.  It’s almost as if it doesn’t feel real yet.  As if I’m going to wake up Wednesday morning and realize I’m not actually going anywhere.  Which would really suck since I have this suitcase packed to the brim sitting in my living room.

You would think, being the procrastinator that I am, packing is the last thing I’d do.  But no, packing is all done.  I even have a fancy new binder (for the handouts I have to print myself…gah!) and a sassy little schedule spreadsheet I color coded.  I know, this may be the most anal thing I’ve ever done.  But never fear, there are several things I’ve put off so I haven’t lost my charming “I can do that tomorrow” ways.

I have three goals for this trip.  Have fun, have fun, and have fun.  Seriously, that’s it.  I mean, I intend to learn lots of craft stuff that will inspire me to come back and finish my WIP by the end of September (stop laughing!) and meet as many people as I can.  It’s all about the networking, baby.  But the bottom line is, have a good time!

Now, here’s the cool part.  Anyone who isn’t going to San Francisco can still do the same things I’ll be doing.  Turns out, there are online conferences going on for those not able to make the trip this year.  First up is the Not Going to Conference Conference.  Isn’t that a great name?  This one is courtesy of the Romance Diva’s.  The virtual conference runs from July 30 to August 2 with lots of workshops and prizes.  Registration is free and you never know what contacts you’ll make by taking part.

The other option is the Left Behind and Loving It Conference which actually starts today.  Multi-published author, Lynn Viehl, is offering workshops and prizes all week long on her Paperback Writer blog.  Everything from plotting and editing to branding and a Q&A session, this is a great opportunity to have the conference experience all from the comfort of your own home.

Then there are various other blogs that will keep you in the action.  The RWA National website will have frequent updates throughout the event and pretty much any other blog you visit on a regular basis will be talking conference.  I know you’ll want to be here Friday because Santa O’Byrne (who will be here tomorrow as well with her own pre-conference blog) and I plus any of our friends we can recruit will post a “conference so far – who we’ve squealed at and who is taking out a restraining order against us” blog. 

EDITING!!!  Can’t believe I forgot to mention where you can get your blog hook-up all in one place.  This fantastic woman named Judi put together all the blogs regarding the conference in one place.  Go HERE for everything conference at your fingertips.  (And we’re there too!)

Now it’s time for the questions.  If you’re going to San Fran, are you packed?  Are you calm?  Or are you freaking out on the inside?  If you’re not going, will you check out one of these online conferences?  Will you surf the net to every site you can find to follow the action?  Or would you rather do what we should probably all be doing and spend the time writing?

In case you haven’t heard, and that is highly unlikely if you spend any time at all on this ship, I’m heading off to San Francisco next week for the annual RWA National Conference.  I’ve attended a smaller conference in New Jersey, but never the Nationals.  I’ve also never been anywhere near the west coast.  To say I’m excited is like saying Nora is kind of successful.

Though I’m a plotser (or plantser or whatever we’re calling the plotter/pantser combo this week) in my writing life, in real life I pants it all the way.  I rarely plan ahead, take everything as it comes, and never, absolutely NEVER, make lists.  Until now.

Last week on the Romance Bandits blog, Blaze author Tawny Weber covered the topic of getting organized and prepared for the conference.  She ever suggested making a schedule spreadsheet complete with color coding. Her timing was perfect as I’d just had a dream – make that a nightmare – the weekend before that I had arrived in San Fran without any of the things I needed.  Say what you will, but the Universe was telling me to get my arse in gear and get prepared.

First thing I did – make a list.  This is SOOOOO unlike me it’s scary.  I hate lists.  I have a friend who makes lists about making lists.  It’s a constant battle not to choke her when she tries to push these lists on me.  So the fact I succumbed to this task says a great deal about my anxiety.

I learned several things from the list.  One, for the amount of bathroom items required by me daily, I should be much better looking.  Seriously, the bathroom stuff took one side of the page.  And I kept adding to it.  But almost all of these items are packed (travel size items are my friend!) and marked off the list.

Another thing I learned is that shoes are not a big deal to me.  I’m taking my tennis shoes (wearing them on the plane actually) and the heels I’ll wear to get all prettied up for the awards ceremony.  Not another pair made it on the list.  With my bad knees, everyone will just have to deal with me in tennis shoes.  Otherwise, the pain will drive me to tears.  And for the record, I’m not pitching so no worries on me going in to impress an editor or agent in tennis shoes.

The final lesson was that one list leads to more lists.  I now have the list of things I still need to buy, the list of items I will wear that day, and the list of items I need to do prior to leaving.  It’s like a disease that keeps spreading.  Though I admit, for a person with my memory issues, I should probably embrace list making more often.

What about you?  Do you make lists before a big trip?  Do you make lists for everyday things?  Or does making a list send you over the edge?  Could you make it through a four day conference with only two pairs of shoes, or would you need a separate suitcase for foot gear alone?  If you’re going to Nationals, what’s on your list that I might have forgotten to add to mine?

PS: Tune in next week when I talk about creating spreadsheet schedules and picking the right workshops.

I often find myself in a fight with my muse for creative power over my brain. So today, I’m cheating. I keep a writing diary. I have for almost three years now. When we have it out, I write letters to myself. It’s mostly in character. So today, I bring you the inner workings of my mind.

Date: October 04, 2006

Mood: Well, I’ve gotta tell you, muse, I’m just peachy because of you…  You feel me?

Inspiration: My level of confidence is in the dirt. But I’m hanging on by a thread.

Music: Brackish- Kittie  (Explains a lot, doesn’t it.)

Introduction- How we met–

When I met her, it was like any other day for me. The drive into work was the same. The phone calls were the same. The music on the radio was the same. Nothing was different. Except for her voice. It was eerily haunting in it’s sweetness. A hint of sarcasm. Scratch that. Full of sarcasm. She threw a shoe across the room and said very quietly, “Get out.”

She had my full attention. To throw a shoe (which is like an offense in my book. Throw a knife. A whip. A clock. Anything but the five inch heel in patent leather. That’s a sin.) But her voice. Haunting. Like she’d done this before. Knew what to expect. That it was coming. I didn’t know what “it” was at this point, but I was engrossed. I had to know. So I listened all day. Tuned in quietly to my thoughts as she continued to talk to me. More like musings to herself, spoken to a silent confident.

Then I heard his voice. Cool. Calm. Collected. The type of voice that all women turn their heads toward on the street. The type of voice that gives you goosebumps when confronted in the dark corner of a club. His voice was enough to send shivers down my spine. But I could feel her tense up. I could feel her movements as sure as they were my own. She crossed her arms. Her breathing became more controlled, and even. And her mind shut down. This was “it”. This is who deserved the “get out”.

He walked into the room as if he owned it. I wasn’t sure. He might have. The look in his eyes was a dark gleam He knew what he wanted. He expected to get it. No wasn’t an option at this point between them. She closed herself off even more and I had to wonder if this was about to get really ugly. It wouldn’t be the first time. My mind played host to some twisted scenes in the past. I just hoped that this wasn’t going to be one of them. I liked her. I wasn’t sure who she was. But I was willing to find out. That had to be something. Right?

“I asked you to leave.” Her voice was soft in a room full of tension and the hair rose on my forearms. There was a warning in her voice.

He laughed. A baritone rich in velvet. It was almost cruel how much I wanted to love him. “You told me to get out.”

I could feel her shrug. “We must interpret “get out” differently then, because you’re still here.” Her voice gave away no emotion. Flat. Distant. Meant to annoy him.

But it didn’t. He came to a stop at an arm’s length distance away from her. Close enough to touch, but he held back. His stare was hot on her skin. And it was obvious she was uncomfortable with him. I wasn’t sure why. They had some sort of a relationship. I could tell that much. But the depth of that relationship was stunted by their inability to communicate with one another. Unwilling to share information.

And then it clicked all of a sudden. They worked together. The look in their eyes, they couldn’t react. No matter how much he wanted to and how much she pulled away emotionally from him, it was always going to be there, between them. The fire. The ice. It was love at it’s greatest point.

Sadie, I thought to myself. I knew her just as I knew myself. Her name was Sadie. Her father was dead. Her sister was murdered. Her mother hates her and Sadie’s lived with guilt that’s rotted her heart. She doesn’t want anything to do with a partner. Especially one who’s using her to get what he wants.

And the devil. Well he was easy. With the silver tongue and confidence of a sultan, he was Ash. And he wanted her. Not only for information, but in every way possible. And to Ash, a challenge was just the excuse he needed to get closer to her.

And there it was, at midnight, on October 4, 2006, my grandfather’s birthday, I knew I had my first original plot beginnings. Sadie Madalyn Michaels was born like a wildfire blowing in a strong breeze. And we haven’t looked back since.

So how was it for you? Do you remember anything remarkable about your first encounter with your hero/heroine? Remember where you were? Readers, are there any hero/heroines that have stuck with you and made you think that you could write or identify with that particular character? And does anyone else keep a writing journal to refer back to? Or even just a book of thoughts?