3 Blog visit Sunday discovered by Janet Lane Walters

http://www.techlila.com/how-to-increase-blog-traffic/

http://romancebeckons.blogspot.com/2014/02/oh-ways-readers-can-help-authors.html

http://bwlpp.blogspot.com/2014/02/now-available-inconvenient-marriage-by.html?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+BooksYoullLoveFromBooksWeLove+%28Books+You%27ll+Love+from+Books+We+Love%29

Saturday"s Chapter from Dream Doctor by James DiBenedatto

Prologue: The Princess Bride

(June 15-17, 1991)

The sky is a brilliant blue, completely cloudless.  The day simply could not be more perfect, Sara thinks.  Except for the pain in her right ankle; she’s slowing down the line of graduates as she limps towards the metal steps and then up onto the stage.  She wishes she had her cane, even though she hasn’t needed it in more than a year.  She glances over her shoulder; the graduate directly behind  her glares impatiently, but right behind him John from New York grins at her and a little further back Janet Black gives her a thumbs-up.

She stops at the assigned spot, helpfully marked with tape. She’s grateful for a moment to rest.  She only has a few seconds, though, before her name is called. 

“Sara Katarina Barnes, Bachelor of Science in Biology, summa cum laude.”

 Sara hobbles across the stage to the podium, her right foot throbbing now.  It hasn’t hurt this badly, she thinks, since she injured it in the first place.  She tries to push the pain aside but she finds it harder with each step, until her ankle gives way and she tumbles to the floor, her cap falling off her head and rolling right off the stage.

Sara feels the eyes of several thousand people on her, but her only concern is the two eyes looking down at her from the podium just a few feet away.  They belong not to the President of the university or to her Dean, but to the man she loves.  Brian looks down at her but he makes no move to help, says nothing.  His expression, though, speaks eloquently: “Why are you just lying there? Don’t you want to graduate?” it asks…

…Sara is suddenly elsewhere.  She’s surprised to be on her feet again, the pain in her right ankle gone.  She’s equally surprised at finding herself - where? 

A cemetery, she realizes as she looks all around, marble headstones dotting the well-manicured lawn.  Specifically, a cemetery during a funeral.  She recognizes none of the people standing around the open grave, but as she listens to the minister’s words she gasps at the name of the deceased: Dr. Abraham Morris. 

Sara knows who he is: chairman of the admissions committee of the Crewe University School of Medicine.  She’s met Dr. Morris exactly once; he conducted her final admissions interview.  It had been an extraordinarily stressful hour.  Afterwards Sara had been left wondering if medical school was the right choice after all.

“I don’t hate him!  And I got in anyway!  I don’t want him dead!” Sara blurts out, immediately cringing, whirling around in search of somewhere to hide, to disappear.  She sees no such place, but the reaction she expects from the mourners does not come; no angry words or disapproving stares.  In fact there is no reaction at all.

Sara is surprised, but only for an instant; then it becomes clear to her what’s going on.  This has happened before; this is not her dream at all.  She doesn’t cry, or scream; she simply closes her eyes and pleads – already knowing she will not be answered – “Please, God, not again!”

***

I open my eyes, and I know before I can even force them to focus what I’m going to see.  The clock reads 3:05 AM. 

It was always three o’clock in the morning last time, too.  At least I didn’t wake up screaming.  Or bite off Mister Pennington’s arm again - my stuffed rabbit is still in one piece, right here in the bed with me.  I didn’t even wake up Lumpy, who’s living up to his name, snoring away at the foot of the bed all tangled up in the sheets, or Beth, down on the floor, looking more comfortable sleeping on an inflatable mattress than I would ever be.

I’m not going to tell her about this.  Or Brian.  Or anybody.  Especially not today. 

It’s almost funny, except it isn’t at all.  I haven’t had any of these dreams in a year and a half, not since “it” happened – except one time, last summer.  When Brian was dreaming about me, and I saw it.  But that was the only time.   

Talk about luck.  Of all the times for this to start back up, for my brain to start picking up signals again, it has to be the night before my wedding. 

***

I was able to get back to sleep, finally; I got maybe two more hours. 

When I went to bed last night I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to get to sleep in the first place; I thought I’d be up all night with the jitters.  To my surprise, though, I had no trouble falling asleep.  I spent a few minutes holding my hand up to my face and staring at Grandma Roberta’s ring – my ring – and remembering that afternoon last summer when Brian gave it to me.  I did my best to act surprised, but I couldn’t pull it off.  He knew I’d seen him, seen his dream, seen him asking my father for his blessing and getting more than he bargained for when Dad handed over my grandmother’s ring to him.

I fell asleep with that memory, and a smile on my face.  After that, I didn’t expect to be woken up by someone I don’t know dreaming about killing somebody.  I thought I was done with that once and for all.

For about the first three months after Dr. Walters was caught, I went to bed every night expecting to have more nightmares.  I was certain I’d keep seeing other people’s horrible visions in my head.  But it didn’t happen, and it kept not happening.  It wasn’t until a week or two after my cast came off that I really started to believe that it was over for good.

Wishful thinking, obviously. 

But I am not going to obsess about it today.  I’ve got far better things to obsess about. 

Beth is stirring herself awake.  I don’t see how she can possibly look as rested and refreshed as she does after a night on an air mattress.  I offered her my bed, and Dad offered to pay for a hotel room, but she wouldn’t hear any of it.  She wanted to be here for me, she said, and as she put it: “I’m certainly not going to make the bride sleep on the floor the night before her wedding!”

I really do love her.  I don’t think I could be any closer to her if we actually were sisters.  It’s going to be so strange not having her right there, always just across the room or a couple of doors down the hall like she’s been for the last four years. 

It’s going to be strange, too, to have someone else right there, every night, not just in my room but in my bed.  I guess I should correct that – it’s not going to be “my bed” anymore, it’ll be “our bed.”  I feel like I ought to be more nervous about that than I am, but I’m not.  I think that’s a good sign. 

I’m not even nervous about the wedding itself.  It’s pretty much all out of my hands anyway.  It wasn’t as though I could do much planning while I was finishing up my last semester, working on my senior thesis and getting ready for graduation.  But I didn’t have to - Mom was thrilled to step in and do basically everything.  About the only thing I did was to choose the color for the bridesmaid dresses – light blue, almost a pastel sort of color.  I’m not sure if anyone else likes it, but I do and like everyone says, it’s my day, right?

And of course I picked out the dress; I did insist on doing that myself.  Beth spent the week after Christmas at my house to help and it took almost that whole time to find it.  I had no clear idea what exactly I was looking for and I turned down dress after dress that Beth or my Mom or both thought was perfect with the same unhelpful answer every time: "It's just not me." 

I finally found it at the third or maybe the fourth bridal shop we tried, I honestly don’t remember.  We'd all lost count of how many dresses they’d brought out, when they showed me the perfect one.  Both Beth and Mom immediately pronounced it boring.  But it wasn't.  It was – I can’t explain it any better than to say, it was me. 

It is very simple, I agree.  It’s plain white satin, no fancy lace or anything.  It has just enough of a neckline that my emerald necklace is visible; it does set my eyes off so nicely, after all.  Beth and Mom both argued with me, but I insisted on trying it on.  When I came out of the dressing room they saw I was right.  Mom teared up immediately, and Beth – even though she denied it later – nearly did as well.  She did try to talk me into lowering the neck a little, which I absolutely refused to do.  That’s something that my alter-ego would have done.  “Gretchen might,” I told Beth, “but this is my dress, and the neck is perfect how it is.”  

Everything about it was perfect – the dress might as well have been handmade just for me. 

Mom took care of every other decision: the food, the cake, the flowers, all of it.  The only thing I really have to do is show up, and since the limo is coming here to pick us all up, even that’s covered. 

There’s just one thing I am nervous about, and I know how ridiculous it is.  I don’t even want to mention it to Beth, but if I can’t tell my best friend and Maid of Honor, who can I tell?

She’s up now, yawning and stretching; I guess I’ll have my chance to tell her.   But before I can say anything more than “good morning,” there’s a knock on my bedroom door and my Mom comes in. 

“Good morning, honey,” she says, and she sits herself down on my desk chair.  She looks nervous herself.  “It’s going to be such a busy day, and there’s just – I wanted to talk to you for a few minutes, you know, before – well, before.”

Oh, God.  There’s no possible way this can be anything but embarrassing and horrible.  Mom knows it too, but she puts on the bravest face she can and keeps going.  “I know it’s old-fashioned.  But it’s family tradition.  My mother sat me down before my wedding, and her mother did the same and so on.”

Beth and I look at each other.  She gives me an apologetic smile and starts towards the door, but Mom calls her back.  “You may as well hear it, too.”  For a moment I think she's going to leave anyway, abandon me to suffer through this alone, but – for about the millionth time she proves her loyalty to me.  She stops, bows her head in defeat and shuffles over to the bed to sit down next to me.

“Mom,” I say.  “I’m twenty two years old.  I don’t need…”

She sighs.  “I know that, Sara.  But it’s my job as your mother, so I’m going to tell you anyway.  Besides, I was twenty two myself once upon a time.  I might know what you’re feeling right now,” she says.  I believe that, but I don’t really want to think about it.

“Anyway, the night before my wedding, my mother sat me down, and - well, anyway.  I’m not going to do that to you.  I’m just – I want to tell you what I wish she’d told me.”  Now I have no idea where this is going.  I do know that I don’t even want to guess what advice Grandma Lucy gave to Mom on her wedding day.

“Mom, I don’t know…”

She actually smiles at me, and it’s a very kindly but also somewhat sad smile.  “Yes, you do.  You’re a smart girl,” she chokes up a little, “so smart. And so strong.  More than I ever was.”  She has to take a deep breath before she can continue.  “You’ve also got a lot of - I don’t know how else to say it – romantic ideas about life.”

Beth nudges me; I don’t look at her but I’m absolutely sure there’s an “I told you so!” expression on her face.  She’s right, too; she has told me so, many times.

“I have those same ideas myself,” Mom goes on.  “And I did on my – you know, my wedding night.  I had all these ideas about – well, I’m sure you know exactly what I mean.  Candles and soft music and everything perfect and…”  She can’t quite look at me now, and I’m looking everywhere but back at her.  She somehow manages to finish her sentence: “…and - well – fireworks.”

How did she know?  That’s exactly what I was going to tell Beth.  I never expected to hear it from my mother – and I can’t imagine telling her she’s right, not if I live to be a hundred.  But I don’t have to say it; my expression gives it away.  “You’re expecting the same thing,” she says.  “God, it’s like looking in a mirror when I talk to you.”    She’s overcome for a moment.  I am, too.

“Mom, it’s OK.  I know…”

She recovers a bit.  “I’m almost finished,” she says.  “I think - if you’ve got anything at all of me inside you you’d probably sooner die than admit it – but I think you’re probably scared about tonight.”

I want to run over and hug her, and at the same time I’d like to go out to the backyard, dig a hole and bury myself in it for about the next thousand years.  I can see in her eyes that Mom feels exactly the same.  I don’t know how she keeps going, but she does.  “Well, here’s my advice.  Remember that – that Brian will be just as scared as you are.  And there’s nothing wrong with that.  Maybe you’ve already figured it out on your own.  It took me a long time to learn it, but being scared together can bring you so - so close.” 

Yes.  That’s something Brian and I learned right at the start of our relationship.

"There’s one other thing I want you to remember tonight,” she says, “you’re going to be so overwhelmed and so tired, after the ceremony and the reception and everything, just – if nothing happens, or it doesn’t happen how you’re imagining it - if you don’t feel – or he doesn’t – that’s OK.  That’s normal.  There’s nothing wrong.”

Now I do run to her and hug her.  I can’t get any words out, but she understands what I’m saying just the same. 

“That’s right,” she says softly, gently patting my head exactly the way she did when I was a little girl.  “That’s right.  If – just remember – this is the most important thing of all.  Whatever tonight is or isn’t, you’ve got a whole lifetime together afterwards, you know?”

I do.  I still can’t speak.  Mom holds me a little while longer, and then she kisses my forehead, sniffles, and leaves.  When I turn to look at Beth, I see that she’s hastily wiping a tear away.

“Wow,” is all she says.

I agree.  “Yeah.  Wow.”

“She was right about you,” Beth says, looking at me curiously.  “About being a romantic.  But she wasn’t - you’re not – you aren’t worried – don’t tell me…” she trails off.

I can’t look her in the eye, but I do give her a tiny nod. 

“You can be incredibly thick sometimes, do you know that?”

So I’ve been told.  I don’t say anything, though.  After a couple of moments of silence, she walks over to me, grabs my face and makes me look at her.  “I shouldn’t have to say any of this.  Especially after everything your mother just said.” she says.  “But I guess I do.”  She rolls her eyes and sighs theatrically.  “Tell me, honestly.  Has Brian ever had any complaints?  Any at all?”

“No!”  I blurt it out without thinking.  Well, he hasn’t!

“Have you?”

The answer is the same, but it comes out in a much smaller voice, accompanied by a very red face.  “No.”

“Then what are you worried about?  You know what you’re doing, he knows what he’s doing, and you’ve never had a problem before, so don’t go looking for one now.”

When she says it that way, it is pretty hard to argue with. 

Friday's How He Does It featuring James Di Beneditto

.      How do you create your characters? Do you have a specific method?

They really just “come to me” for the most part.  Sara, the main character for the Dream Series books, appeared more-or-less fully formed along with the original idea for the books.  For the supporting characters, I usually start with the role I want them to play, or the relationship I want them to have with Sara.  In the second book, DREAM DOCTOR, for example, Sara is in medical school, so I knew she needed a study group that she would spend most of her time with.  And I knew that I wanted one of them to be someone she already knew, and another one to be someone older, who she would see as a possible model for herself a few years in the future. 

For the person she knew, I took a very minor character from the first book and just gave her a little deeper relationship with Sara (and then a plot for her suggested itself and she became a much more well-defined character).  For the older person, I decided that with Sara being a newlywed in the book, I wanted her him to be someone who was married for a fairly long time, with kids and a house, etc, and the character of Joseph came out of that.

2. Do your characters come before the plot?

Definitely.  Although I’d say it differently: the characters, and their internal struggles, their hopes and fears, drive the plot.  In each book of the series, the plot came out of something I wanted to challenge Sara with.  In the first book, she’s growing up, and she has this new talent to step into people’s dreams, which she never asked for and doesn’t really want.  But she has no choice, and she has to cope with it.  In the second book, she has to learn about being a newlywed, and balancing life and her studies, and also learn that she can’t save everyone – and the main plot and the subplots all touch on those themes.  And so on, throughout the books. 

3. Do you know how the story will end before you begin? In a general way or a specific one?

Absolutely.  I always have a pretty clear general idea of the ending, and for the last three books, I’ve known pretty much exactly what the ending scene would be.  How I get there is sometimes a roundabout journey, though!  

4. Do you choose settings you know or do you have books of settings and plans of houses sitting around?

Both.  The first book, DREAM STUDENT (and the second, as well) takes place at a (very) thinly-veiled version of my college.  The house that Sara’s in-laws own is pretty much my cousin’s house, where I spent most Thanksgivings and Christmases.  The apartment building Sara lives in in the fourth book is the building I actually lived in when I moved to Washington, DC.  But I also have settings that I need to research, and I have a ton of background material for that. 

5. Where do you do your research? On line or from books?

 Pretty much all on-line.  But it’s not just wikipedia and so forth.  I’ve made great use of online forums and blogs to ask people for specific experiences and details that I needed to know about for the books.  People have been extremely helpful, too!

6. Are you a draft writer or do you revise as you go along and why? Do you sketch out your plot or do you let the characters develop the route to the end?

I revise as I go along – usually I go over each chapter several times, editing slightly each time, before they’re sent out to my beta readers. 

I do sketch out the plot in broad strokes, but the characters sometimes go off on their own, or demand more screen time, and I mostly let them do it.  I’ve only “overruled” them once, really.  In the fourth book, DREAM FAMILY, Sara has a traumatic experience, and one of the signs that she’s not over it yet is her inability to put her wedding ring back on.  In-character, the next step in that plot was going to be that she would purposely break her own finger so she’d have a good excuse for not being able to wear it.  But I decided that was going too far.  I’m still not sure what I think about that – it was absolutely something that she was capable of doing at that point.

---

Read about my writing: www.writingdreams.net

Buy my books: amazon.com or smashwords

Thursday's Opening Scene - The Amber Cage from Amber Chronicles by Janet Lane Walters

The Amber Cage

The wailing notes of the bagpipes lingered in the air. Ivor, Crown Prince of Rivand gasped deep breaths. He grinned. “Did I pass?” He squeezed the words out.

The old man smiled. “You have. Shame you can’t pursue what could be a brilliant career as a master of music.”

Ivor bowed his head. His passion for music overshadowed his birth order dictated. The spotlight wasn’t for him.

The bells of the town clock chimed ten times. Ivor scowled. “I’ll be late for my morning meeting with my twin.” He dashed from the music room and ran through the hallsof the palace to the salle.

Moments later, he donned the protective gear and drew his sword from the sheath. Time to face his brother in another senseless match. He had no taste for the fighting life his twin savored.

Andros raised his sword. “Ready to lose again.”

The glee in his twin’s voice rasped Ivor’s nerves. He hated these forced encounters. As crown prince martial arts must be mastered so he could leave the troops of Rivand if the country came under attack by one of the neighboring princedoms.

He had learned the movement of the danceof the sword and had practiced until they had become automatic. Fighting was alien to his nature. He feared suffering an injury to hands able to play any instrument. He shuddered as all the possibilities arose. A head injury could destroy the melodies waiting to emerge. What if a lucky blow harmed his throat to making singing impossible?

Andros attacked. Ivor defended. His twin was a master or the blade, excelled in strategy and was a superb negotiator. Andros embodied every skill a crown prince needed.

Ivor scowled. Had they been switched during the hectic moments following their birth?

The sighe of Andros’ lunge pulled Ivor into the present. He tried to turn the duel into a real fight. His brother’s blade neared his chest. Ivor froze. His sword flew through the air.

Andros laughed. “My win.”

Ivor nodded. “As usual.”

“Ivor!”

His body tensed. He stared toward the observation area overlooking the salle. Why was his father present during every defeat? He knelt with his head bowed.

“To my study now.” Prince Gregori shouted.

Ivor retrieved his sword and slid the blade into the sheath. His twin’s mocking laughter agraded. Ivor’s hands clenched. He faced an angry tirade when all he wanted was to return to the music chamber and work on his latest composition, Lament For The Lost Princes.

The solstice was but four days away. On that date he would join the ranks of the vanished. Even now the moon moved toward full. Being lost seemed better than being the next ruler of Rivand.

He entered his father’s study and knelt at the feet of the ruling prince. He waited for the angry comments focusing on the qualities for his position he lacked.

“Was there ever a time when you defeated Andros in a friendly match? You are Crown Prince. You must be first in all important matters.”

Ivor drew a shuddering breath. “What does how I perform matter? The solstice looms. The moon will be full. I will soon vanish like the other lost princes.”

Gregori scowled. “You will be guarded and will be wed. On the morning of the summer solstice you will marry. Your bride arrives tomorrow.” He lifted a stack of papers. “These will burn.”

“No!: Ivor recognized his compositions. Anger he couldn’t express tightened his throat. To speak would fire his father’s temper. Already his back burned with memories of floggings received for his failures. Acid rushed into his throat. He swallowed to keep from spewing.

“I rule here until I die. Then you will have your turn.” Prince Gregori shoved the papers into the fireplace and lit them with a glowing candle. “Tonight your instruments will burn. Rivand needs no music-performing fool as a ruler.”

“Let Andros rule. He’s better suited. Perhaps the midwife forgot which of us arrived first on the day we were born.”

“Do not think to escape your duty. You are dismissed.”

Ivor bowed. “I hear.” He backed from the room. Rebellion stirred. How could he see the things that brought him pleasure be destroyed?

He scurried to the music chamber. His teacher stood with his hands to his head. “I couldn’t stop him.”

“I know. ‘Twas not your fault.” Ivor pulled the most valuable lutes, fiddles and lap harps from the shelves. He added a few reeds and brass horns to the collection. “Give these to your most promising students. My father plans to destroy them tonight.”

“Why?”

“To rule I must forsake music.” Ivor slid his favorite flute into the sheath with his sword, taking care notto scratch the silver on the gemmed hilt. “Go quickly.” He pushed a wheeled hand cart to the rear door.

The moment the teacher left Ivor opened the door into the hall. His twin pushed past him. “What have you done?”

“Gave some gifts to the worthy.”

“Father said all the instruments are to be destroyed.

Ivor glared. “Go tell him what I’ve done. Don’t fear. You will have my place.”

“What do you mean?”

“The lost princes. Already I feel a need to leave the palace. I’ll be glad to be gone. Without music Rivand is no place for me.”

Andros smiled. “I pray your words are true. I won’t report what you’ve done.”

Wednesday's Writer's Tip - Making Characters Pop

Still reading and making sense from Dwight V Swain's Techniques of A Selling Writer and characters. Here are three more ways to make the characters stronger and ones the readers want to know.

Behavior. Watching how a character acts tells the reader more about who he is that telling. If you say she was vain. The reader might shrug but if you show her not being able to pass a mirror without admiring herself the reader believes that vanity is one of this character's traits. He is a bully. The reader might shrug but showing him acting in this way grabs the reader's attention and allows them to see the character as a bully.

Match inner and outer characteristics. This means knowing the motivations behind the characters' actions. Showing the why behind an action by using tags and creating impressions.

Find contrasts. What this means is making each character unique in some way. Having all the characters being the same doesn't spur readers on. Look at the why behind the reason the major characters act in the way they do.

Tuesday's Inspiration - Looking at Circles

While reading something in John Gardner's On Becoming A Novelist, something sent me off on a tangent. As I was falling asleep words about circles and how the character is the center of the circle with spokes from the character to the rim that for me is the plot. This rim keeps the story contained. But there are not just a single character in most stories, there are usually others. So what happens when the circles overlap. Not sure where this is going but those thoughts as one falls asleep often become something to ponder on.

Now there are stories that have only one character and in these stories, perhaps the theme becomes another circle. One such as survival. For me themes are large ones. Love, Money, Power, Survival. I'm sure there are other large ones. Now to look at the characters in a story and see where the circles could meet.

Hero, heroine, villain. These three figures are often found in many stories. The first two are evident but does the villain have to be the bad guy or gal. Not necessarily so. The villain could be a parent who doesn't want the hero or heroine to take a certain path in life. This isn't a necessarily evil person but their circle intersects with that of the other characters in the story. A good friend could take the part of the villain. But yes there is a lot of room in a story for the really bad guy. Finding one of these evil ones gives the hero or heroine someone to fight against.

Back to circles with the character in the center. Places where the intersect might occur are in the setting. I've used this when writing suspense and mysteries. Also in romances. The above mentioned theme is another area. So look at your characters and see where their desires intersect. This is where they must make choices. Choices good or bad are what makes the story pop.

Meandering on Monday with Janet Lane Walters

Meander 1 - Good day to stay at home. Snow is coming again so what to do. Actually I'm participating in JeRoWriMo which means trying to write 30,000 words in the month of February. Shouldn't be hard since that's a little over 1000 words a day. Part of the problem could be where a person is in a project during this time. I'm adding the meat to one project and if that's finished I'll be able to start a new story that has a chapter outline. I feel confident I'll make the challenge.

Meander 2 Writing reviews for other's books. This could be a disaster for me. I don't like to do this. I have no problem rating books but I sure do have problems writing what drew me to this book. I either like or I do not like a story. What's going to happen is that I'll probably stop doing this soon since it's not what I'm good at doing. Problem is I could write a lot about the books I don't like but I refuse unless it's a contest to do this to other authors. There are some who go through and trash all those they don't like. Not me.

Meander 3 Writing is going well and hopefully I'm changing the time problems in Melodic Dreams. I've had to find a way to make three days into two and that meant making some changes. I believe I've done that and in the writing, I do believe I'm going to slash the opening of a chapter that's toward the end of the book. Why? Because the opening scene bores me and boredom isn't what a writer wants to see. If the writer is bored by what they've written, imagine the reader's reaction. So the motto is this "If a scene bores you, it should be double that for the reader. Rip out those pages and toss those words away."

3 Blog Visit Sunday - Discoveries by Janet Lane Walters

http://thevioletfemmes.wordpress.com/2014/01/27/techtips01/

http://www.reviewzntips.com/why-and-how-you-should-use-images-on-twitter/

http://www.yourwriterplatform.com/use-pinterest-to-market-book-and-author-brand/

Saturday's Excerpt from Long Overdue by Tara Andrews

Long Overdue by Tara Andrews

“I’m telling you, you need to call and arrange a date,” Melanie insisted.

“Sex with a stranger, you mean?” With a dating service called 1Night Stand, the name spoke for itself. Not that Jill disliked dating services per se, but her experience with cyber matching left her rather disappointed.

“No. To live a little.”

“Live? You want me to meet up with some random man in a hotel? I’m likely to wind up some tragic headline. Desperate woman killed in her quest to get some.”

“Don’t be crass.” Her friend shook her head, dismissing the concern.

“Crass? This coming from someone trying to pimp me out.”

“It’s not what you’re thinking. It’s very legitimate. Extensive background checks are done before any dates are set. Very safe, I assure you.” Spoken like the expert she wasn’t. Ever since her co-worker came back from Vegas, in love and swearing by the agency, Melanie had turned into a walking infomercial.

Too bad Melanie’s happily married status prevented Jill from suggesting she give it a whirl. Where did it leave her? Oh, yeah, trying to get her friend to drop the idea altogether. “I’m fine. I don’t need another dating service.”

They stopped at an intersection and waited for the light to change. The buzz of noise and the press of people reinforced the reasons she didn’t come down to the city often. She’d tried to get out of coming, but Melanie insisted.

“I’m only trying to help and well….” The walk signal flashed and they moved with the crowd across the street. Once on the opposite corner, Melanie pulled her to the side. “Ever since ----- broke off the engagement, you’ve been trying too hard to find a Mr. Right to replace him. But…” Melanie glanced in the direction they headed, as if weighing her words. She turned back, her mouth set with determination. “He’s not going to care, Jill. Okay? You could marry Bradley Cooper today, and he wouldn’t notice.”

The truth of the statement stung in her heart and in her eyes. She wanted to be angry, but some part of her knew her pride spurred her to even the score.

Melanie touched her arm. “I’m sorry for saying it like that. Come on.”

They walked half a block before Melanie stopped in front of a café window and peered inside. “Like clockwork,” she mumbled.

A chill ran down Jill’s back, igniting a sense of dread. She didn’t want to see what waited for her, positive it’d be unpleasant. But curiosity won, and she turned her head.

Her ex-fiancé sat across from a beautiful woman, smiling and holding her hand on the table between their coffees. They were deep into a conversation. Deep into each other.

Blinded by tears, Jill reached out and took the card Melanie offered her.

***

Almost three weeks from the day her friend sprang reality on her, Jill stood outside the Castillo Hotel in Midtown Manhattan, unable to move her legs, or draw a large enough breath, or even believe the moment arrived.

In hindsight, maybe she shouldn’t have rushed to fill out the form while emotionally charged. Sleeping on her answers first might have been a prudent idea. Perhaps she’d have provided a little more detail in describing her perfect man, other than someone who doesn’t screw around. No telling what awaited her, with so much wiggle room.

A trio of tourists exited the hotel. The movement snapped her out of her trance. She walked into the lobby, imagining herself as Alice going down the rabbit hole. It all worked out for her, didn’t it?

Her grip tightened on the handle of her overnight bag. She’d debated whether to pack one at all. What kind of message did it send? I’m here for the sex, baby. Let’s get it on. It seemed rather over-eager. Although, the idea of leaving the next day in the same clothes screamed a little too much of walk of shame for her comfort.

Besides, choosing not to carry a purse, she needed someplace to put her pepper spray.

She located the VIP elevators per the instructions provided. A uniformed employee pressed the up button for her. The elegance of the act made her realize she’d been so focused on each step, she’d walked through the lobby of one of the most luxurious hotels in the world without noticing a single detail. The elevator doors slid open and left her no time to consider the décor.

Her heart thudded. If she was going to walk away, it was now or never.

The employee held the door open, waiting for her to step inside. He offered her a slight smile and raised a brow.

Move forward or turn back?

Friday's How She Does It featuring Tara Andrews

We all know there are six elements of fiction. Who, What, When, Where, Why and How. I believe the first five lead to the sixth which for me is plot. What's your take on this?

I do agree fiction has all those elements.  I think of them more in terms of goals, motivation, and conflict.  In a similar way, they lead me to the Who, What, When, Where, and Why.  From there I get the How – the plot, which always comes last for me.

1. How do you create your characters? Do you have a specific method?

I wouldn’t say I have a specific method.  I’ve used a couple.  For the most part, I think of my characters reacting to a situation and form an impression of them pretty quickly.  The specifics though, the reasons they are the way they are, come as I begin writing.  If I need more from them, I have had my hero and heroine answer some questions.  But rather than my interviewing them, I set up a mock first date.  I found some interesting first date questions on an online dating website which help me figure them out.

2. Do your characters come before the plot?

Always!  On a rare occasion, it may be the theme of the story, but I’m driven by the characters.

3. Do you know how the story will end before you begin? In a general way or a specific one?

I’m almost all panster when it comes to writing.  The endings always a surprise.  I was once told by a very wise author (e-hem), of course you know how it ends – it’s a romance, they wind up together.  Or something to that affect. J  When I’m stuck I keep that in mind.  

4. Do you choose settings you know or do you have books of settings and plans of houses sitting around?

Out of everything, I think setting is the hardest for me, but I don’t let it limit where my stories take place.  I’m sure along the way I’ve purchased a book or two that would help, but Google Images has become my go to resource for a quick visual.  From aerial shots of Area 51 or the floor plan of a Las Vegas casino, I usually find what I am looking for.

5. Where do you do your research? On line or from books?

I use online resources a great deal.  I’m amazed at what you can find answers to there.  But, when I need a lot of information on a single topic, I do hit the books.  I’ve collected a funny mix of books over time, like Physics for Dummies, on Investing, and the History of England.

6. Are you a draft writer or do you revise as you go along and why? Do you sketch out your plot or do you let the characters develop the route to the end?

I wish I were a plotter!  I tried it once, but I think I sprained something.  It helped in some ways, but I started to get lost in polishing plot details rather than increasing my word count.  So I write and polish as I go along, though the end result is still just a first draft.  Ongoing polishing helps keep my thoughts moving forward, because I’m not mentally tracking details that need to be corrected or changed later.  Of course, that’s not the end of revisions, but the first draft is just clear of obvious flaws.