Last week, when I had every reason to be delayed in posting (red-eye flight), I was here bright and early.

Today? Not so much.

I’ve been trying to get back into the swing of things, the swing of things including writing on my WIP every day. And, I realized yesterday when I was reviewing it, I start no fewer than four chapters with a sentence containing the word ‘fuck.’ In fact, sometimes the sentence is just the word ‘fuck.’ Like this: “Fuck.” I went through the document, and I use it at least 53 times.

I am not writing a historical.

Since I had my son, I don’t swear hardly at all; I do say ‘shoot’ and ‘darn’ a lot, but not much beyond that (ask my son, however, what I yell about in the car, can he’ll tell you everyone else on the road is a Big Jerk). But in my writing, in this case a contemporary, I do swear. It’s of the time, it suits the character(s), even though I don’t say it much myself anymore. Oddly enough, I don’t say or write ‘shit’ nearly as much, mostly because I’m not a big fan of the scatalogical.

Of course, when we write historical, we can fall into the making-it-authentic trap by making it sound too dated, as though we were channeling Jane Austen, only not the spirit of her (for the time) contemporary voice. Reading Georgette Heyer‘s Venetia for the read-along, for example, I was struck by how Heyer defines our genre through her dialogue. Many historical authors have incorporated some of her common usage (mushroom, Corinthian, lightskirt), but hopefully not used it has heavyhandedly as she did; when she did it, she was blazing a genre trail. When people do it now, it’s just lazy writing.

So if you ever read any of my contemporaries, don’t be shocked at the language; I write as the characters would speak, hopefully, and yes, they would swear. Some of them, at least. And some of my historicals also use the word, albeit not as plentifully. It was true to the time, and the characters.

Megan

PS: Cameo‘s “Word Up!” was one of my favorite songs back in the day. Does it really pertain to the topic? No. Do I care? Also no.

Last week, I told you all about heading to Portland, OR, to see my friend whom I’ve dubbed the Picky Vegetarian (and IS she picky! Her decisive attitude towards food is but one of the things I love about her, though. So I just make ruthless fun of her).

And so last night I took an overnight flight from Portland and arrived back in NYC a little before 8:00. I just emerged from bed. You are all grateful that I took time to brew coffee, or this would be “xxdo? tofoedr4 ert9ight!”

While there, we ate loads of good food (no tomatoes! no eggplant! no tofu!), went to THREE wineries (she barely drinks, so that indulgence was for me alone–see why I love her?) and I went shopping at Powell’s, the world’s most amazing bookstore.

I haven’t done any writing. But I have gotten psyched for it, and mapped out a plan for what I need to do prior to heading to Nashville for this year’s National RWA Conference.

Armed with a plan, I intend to embark on it on Monday. I am not sure what my goal will be–I am thinking of not letting myself read unless I’ve also written that day, but then I think I will go postal (what is the reader equivalent of that? Read-al?), so that likely won’t work. A job well done is gratifying, but not really motivational, for me, at least.

Huh.

So not sure what I’ll tack up on my pretty red bulletin board to glance at every time I am lured to the dark side (dark side = Twitter, et al). Suggestions welcome.

Meanwhile, hope your Friday is Good, regardless of your religious affiliation, and that your weekend is full of crocuses.

Megan

Woo-hoo! Have you heard? Our own Riskies, Carolyn and Amanda, have each been nominated for the RITA award. It’s the annual award bestowed on the year’s best published books, and the winner is announced during RWA’s Annual Conference.

SO PROUD OF THEM!

(even though the only pic I have of all of us makes me look dim-witted. I’m the dopey-looking one on the left).

Amanda was nominated for her novella, “Charlotte And The Wicked Lord” in the anthology the Diamonds of Welbourne Manor, while Carolyn was nominated twice; once for her Regency, Scandal, and once for her paranormal, My Forbidden Desire. All the nominees are listed here.

I couldn’t say for sure, but I think I yelped almost as loud as the actual nominees did when I saw the news. It’s really exciting to have such talented, and such good, friends. Another reason why I just can’t quit being a writer. Not yet, at least.

I haven’t been writing fiction this week, but I have an actual good reason: I am heading to Portland, Oregon, to visit my best friend. When she moved out there–what, nearly ten years ago?–I didn’t know what I’d do. But we maintained our friendship, and visit each other when we can (her family is here, so she makes the trip more often than I do) and whenever we see each other, it’s like five minutes has passed.

One of the funnest things about going on a trip is deciding what books to bring. OF COURSE I am bringing Venetia, since I’ve finally finished the ‘cannot put it down’ book, Brent Weeks‘ Beyond The Shadows (the third book in his Night Angel trilogy). I will likely bring Jeaniene Frost‘s One Foot In The Grave, since the library wants it back, and I want to read it. I do have the Kindle for iPhone, so even if I read everything I brought, I would be okay. Oh, and my friend? Works at Powell’s Books, so I’m pretty sure I could pick something up in an emergency.

BUT. There’s no replacement for that hour or so of book choosing, prior to travel. Especially since I stay up later than my friend, and am staying in a hotel room because of her cats (lovely creatures, but I don’t like sleeping at the hospital–I’m allergic). So that means plenty of Megan-time, which means LOADS of reading.

Other options include:
Scarlet Pimpernel, ’cause I’ve never read it.
Clockwork Heart by Dru Pagliassotti — it’s steampunky, and was highly recced by someone whose opinion I respect.
Tempting Danger by Eileen Wilks (another RITA nom, not for this book). This was recced by Carina Press’s Angela James.
What Angels Fear by C.S. Harris–recced by Cara Elliott. But it’s a hardcover, and I don’t like traveling with hardcovers.
And, oh, loads of others down in the room where we store the books. You know, the one with stacks of books (and shelves of CDs?) everywhere?

How many books do you pack for a trip? What’s your favorite part about staying away from home?

Yesterday, I got word that I got a job writing back cover copy for–yes–romance novels! How awesomely cool is that?

And then I felt mildly okay about myself that I was such a punster, because that kind of wordplay will come in handy when writing those big font lines that entice the reader.

Like:

He Was Mad . . .

Lord McCrazypants has been shut in his castle alone for nearly ten years. Distraught after the death of his beloved pet snake–a rarity in his native Ireland–Feargal slithers around his castle, looking menacing, fiercely handsome and muscular, despite not doing anything but the aforementioned slithering. And then he discovers his inner snake . . .

. . . But She Was Crazy For Him

Miss Uprightly British detests Ireland. The only good thing? No snakes. So when Miss Brit gets accidentally sent to a castle inhabited by an insane lord with a passion for the no-footed reptiles, Miss Brit hisses. But when she finds the lord is handsome and muscular and has a way of making her blood run cold, she knows he will slither his way into her heart. And she will shed her prissy skin.

Heh. I have, unfortunately for him, passed on my love of puns and wordsmithery to my son; he’s ten, and his class did a long study of the War Between the States. His essay on it was titled “This War Is Anything But Civil.” My poor husband just sighed, remembering how I’d told him I’d written a paper on Hamlet titled “Hamlet: A Not So Great Dane.”

So anyway, not much else to add; I’ve been writing every day, adding a new freelance job to the already busy mix (see above), and enjoying Spring. More on the new job, the writing and all that kind of stuff in future Fridays. Meanwhile, wanna take a stab at writing some back cover copy yourself?

Megan

It’s very slow going–like, REALLY, REALLY slow–but I am writing a women’s fiction book (or is it woman’s fiction? In which case, which woman is it? And will she like my book?), and in it, a crucial character will die.

It has to happen, painful though it is. It has to happen, actually, because it is painful. Like in real life, I want to make things happy and okay for everyone, but in fiction, that is boring. Bo. Ring.

The cool part is, that when I told two friends who’d read my pages that I was going to off XXX, they were both really bummed because they’d identified with XXX and liked him/her. That makes me feel as though I’ve done a good job.

Sometimes people have to die in order for the character to grow and progress (see: Every Disney movie ever–parents have a very low survival rate). Other times it’s to make the fiction seem more like real life, because bad things happen to good people.

It’s rarer to read about decent characters dying in historical romances, unless it’s the ancient, doddering aunt who then leaves a fortune–our own Carolyn might have done it at some point, although I don’t want to spoil anything. I like pushing the envelope like this (being RISKY!), even though in real life, I am a wuss. I’ve cried over books, and I’d like someone, someday, to cry over mine.

How about you? Have you cried over a book? Which one? Are you okay with killing off characters in romantic fiction? Do you like women’s fiction? Or even know what it is (I confess, I’m baffled, sometimes, because it just seems then like all fiction is ‘women’s’)?

Thanks!

Megan