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Author Archives: megan

Last weekend, half of the Risky Regencies crew–Elena Greene, Janet Mullany, and I–attended the New Jersey Romance Writers’ Conference. Janet was unfortunately suffering from a cold, so her trademarked (and if it’s not, it should be) spunk was muted by sniffles. She still managed a few zingers, though. That Janet’s a trooper!

Friday night, the three of us ate dinner with several more Regency authors. In case you think all Regency authors are staid little misses wearing Empire waists and fussing about their dance cards (“do I have one or don’t I? I can’t finish this book unless I know for sure!”), I’ve included photos of Elena and me actually drinking! Oh, we sure know how to party, right?

Elena’s drink was a mammoth marguerita, while mine was a beer. If I were a Regency character, I think that drink choice would demand I be the maid-of-all-work, scrubbing the stairs in the early hours when the heroine returned from another fabulous night on the town. Good thing I’m writing in the world, not living in it. I am a horrible stair-scrubber. A darn good drinker, though, if I might be so bold.

The next day, the Conference was open to the public for a booksigning. Elena and I were seated directly across from each other, and I saw a lot of folks coming up to her table. I sold some books, too, and not all of them to people I know! That was pretty cool. I snapped pix of Elena and Janet, and someone got me, too.

This was my first booksigning, and I had a blast. It was great to meet people who like to read the kind of book I wrote, it was awesome to sign my name and think it actually meant something more than an ‘oh, I’m paying the bills’ signature. Elena and Janet actually decorated their spots on the long tables, and they looked lovely; me, I brought a pen.

The main point of the Conference, however, was the workshops. I attended quite a few, from the purpose of blogging (not, I was amazed to discover, just to tell a bunch of Virtual strangers all about my private life!), to the importance of getting the history right to increasing the sexuality of our books.

The most useful panel for me, however, was Eloisa James’ panel on Ten Things She Wished She’d Known When Starting Out in theBusiness. Eloisa James is a super-smart author, and she makes a compelling point about keeping the business of writing a business. For example, don’t share too much information with your fellow writers; share, yes, of course, make friends and further acquaintances, but don’t behave as if you’re in high school. Or maybe you should–you never know when your best friend today will be your enemy tomorrow, but instead of stealing your boyfriend, she’ll try to steal your editor. Eloisa also talked about the good parts of being an author, which includes that same camaraderie (for her demonstration, visit the Squawk Radio site. But you probably already have).

That’s one of the best things about becoming part of the Risky Regency crew: we’re getting to know each other as our visitors do, too. I’m envious of Cara’s book collection and her sprightly snark (I think mine is much more dour), Laurie’s evocative mood-altering posts, Janet’s fabulous wit, Amanda’s sassy, saucy assuredness, and Elena’s graciously lovely humor and good sense (not to mention she’s so good at the tech stuff).

After the weekend was over, I got myself and my vast collection of black clothing onto New Jersey Transit and made the trek back to Brooklyn. I went home feeling like more of a writer, like someone who was part of a community and, what was the best, as if I had learned from my peers.

Thanks for sharing in our community,

Megan

*Okay, so if you’ve never seen the “Come Vacation In New Jersey” ads from a few years ago, this doesn’t make sense. If you have, trust me, this is hysterical.


Here’s a thing I discovered when writing my first book, A Singular Lady: writing about the gentle progression towards love is really, really boring.
The only way to make a romance novel come alive is to write about everything but the romance. In other words, take two people whose circumstances, situation, personalities, etc., would normally compel them to stay as far away from each other as possible and take them on a journey, a slow, inexorable climb to the inevitable HEA. Make it as hard on them as possible. As my pal William Shakespeare likes to say,

For aught that I could ever read,
Could ever hear by tale or history,
The course of true love never did run smooth.

Bill, you got that right. Make them suffer. Make your characters stare down into the pit of despair that is their future, and pull them back only when it seems their fall is inevitable. That is what makes a compelling romance. The stuff that writers sometimes focus on–the first kiss, the first fondle, in Janet’s case, the first bondage–that is circumstantial. It happens because it has to happen, because circumstances dictate that your characters fall in love even though every single thing in their lives seems to point to the other person as being the worst possible person to fall in love with. It shouldn’t be the focus of the book, it should be an unavoidable event, caused by the characters themselves, not the need for massive boinking. A great romance novel isn’t about the romance, or even lust. It’s about making your characters complete. And with completion comes love.

Megan

Posted in Writing | Tagged | 3 Replies

“Just the omission of Jane Austen’s books alone would make a fairly good library out of a library that hadn’t a book in it.” — Mark Twain

“Tonstant Weader Fwowed up.” —Dorothy Parker’s Book Review of The House at Pooh Corner.

“People who like this sort of thing will find this the sort of thing they like.” — Abraham Lincoln, in a book review

Reviews. The thought of them can strike terror into an author’s heart. Will the reviewer appreciate the sly wit and clever heroine? Find the hero dreamily attractive and powerful? Or will she point out that if the hero and heroine had only cleared up one little misunderstanding, the book would have been over after fifty pages?

My first book comes out on Tuesday, and it’s already received one review, a complimentary one from Romantic Times. When it reaches the general reading public, chances are good it’ll get some bad reviews, too–after all, I made one huge historical inaccuracy, which will bother some people, my heroine can be perceived as snotty, and the plot, well, is not so layered.

I welcome any and all reviews. Prior to writing fiction, I wrote music reviews for 15 years for two different music industry publications. I fielded many, many calls from musicians and record labels who wanted reviews, people who disagreed with my, and my staff’s, reviews, and people who thought our magazine had been accurate in its subjective opinion. So for me to dismiss any bad review out of hand would be hypocritical.

What I do not like, at all, are sycophantic reviews. You do romance authors and their potential audience no favors when you gush about a book, or an author, with no degrees of assessment. For example, I love Anne Stuart. Do I think Shadow Dance is as good as To Love A Dark Lord? No. That doesn’t mean I’m not supportive of her work, don’t love her as an author, won’t buy her books in the future. A few posts ago, Elena posted about Laura Kinsale, an author who inspires fanatical devotion from her fans. If a fan of her dark books didn’t like her light books as much, would that mean she was somehow disloyal? No.

And yet, it is a peculiarly romance genre thing to insist on blind devotion. The New York Times Book Review usually features reviews written by one author about another’s work. Is that author accused of disloyalty if they don’t like the book? I should hope not. It’s an opinion, a subjective one that, if written well, should demonstrate exactly why the reviewer didn’t like the book. It doesn’t mean the reviewer isn’t a nice person, or isn’t appropriate to review the book in question, or has a personal vendetta against the author. It simply means that, in the reviewer’s opinion, the book wasn’t that good.

When I first started writing romance, I also started writing romance reviews for the website All About Romance. I was proud to review for them because I got to state my opinion, recommending plenty of good books and advising readers to avoid some others. Although I don’t write for them any longer, I still go to AAR for reviews, and lately I’ve taken to visiting readers’ blogs to find recommendations (I’ve got a sidebar full of links on my Writer’s Diary page: (www.meganframpton.com/diary.html).

I don’t look to reviews to corroborate my own opinion. I look to reviews to help me decide what to read, not to cheerlead. I want honesty, and if someone doesn’t like my book, or books that I like, I won’t take it personally.

Do you read reviews? If so, why? If you’re an author, do you hunt for them, or avoid them? As a reader, do reviews influence your buying decisions?

Posted in Reading, Writing | Tagged | 4 Replies


I hate for this to be all about me, but . . .

let’s talk about me.

My book, A Singular Lady, comes out in stores in less than two weeks. Ten days, to be exact, but who’s counting? My editor sent me one copy of it, which is now crinkled, stained, and worn because I’ve been hauling it around to show off if anyone asks what I do besides stay at home with my son.

I’ve read a few bits of it, too, when I’ve been waiting for someone to ask me what I do besides stay at home with my son (um, did I say that? I meant waiting to save a puppy or make chocolate from scratch. That’s what I meant). It feels as if another person wrote it. I certainly don’t remember tapping out some of those words on the keyboard.

I do remember, however, when I knew I would finish writing it. I was at a music industry conference talking with a Very Important Music Journalist and I mentioned what I was doing in my theoretical spare time. I told her the bare concept–my heroine writes a column detailing her husband quest–and she replied, “Oh, Sex And The City in the Regency.”

A ha! I thought. That made it all so much clearer.

And thus was I introduced to the high concept, a buzzword that’s since been cutting a swath through writers’ conferences. The High Concept is a sentence, sometimes only a sentence fragment, that describes the book (or movie, or TV show) in a succinct, catchy way.

So when I pitched my book at those same writers’ conferences, I’d say “Sex And The City in the Regency,” and editors and agents would nod excitedly and ask me to send a partial and synopsis. Which is, in fact, how my book sold–I pitched it to an editor and an agent at the same conference and it sold to one and I got representation from the other.

So, if you’re a reader, how would you characterize your favorite book in a high concept sentence? If you’re a writer, do you think in high concept? What’s your latest project’s high concept? Do you find it easier to think in high concept, or is it just more work?

And while you’re thinking about that, I’ll be off saving a puppy.

Megan