Before I actually tell you a story, let me tell you a little pre-story.

I hate prologues. I don’t mind reading them, but honestly, I feel that they are a writer’s lazy way out–a way to get backstory to the reader without having to use the skill required to embed the backstory within the story.

But sometimes they’re necessary.

I’m in the throes of revising my Regency-set historical, Lessons In Love, and the idea of adding a prologue was gently suggested to me. I felt like a hypocrite, but I wrote one. And then I wrote one for the hero. So not only did I have a prologue, I had a DOUBLE prologue.

Then I came to and removed the hero’s prologue. I think I can get his essential backstory into the story itself.

And now comes the reader participation part: Below, I’ve posted my prologue. Do you like it (I will not be offended at all if you don’t–this is not fishing for compliments time)? Would you want to read the story that follows? Do you think it’s a lazy way out? What do you think about prologues? (btw, if anyone insists on an epilogue, I will have to take a stand. No cutesy post-baby scenes for me, thank you.) Which authors (cough*Loretta Chase*cough) have written effective prologues?

Thanks for the help!

Lessons In Love: Prologue

The first time her husband hit her, he almost had Athena convinced she deserved it.

The second time, she knew she didn’t.

By the time her husband died, she’d lost count of how many times it had happened. The day of Lord Carlyle’s funeral was the happiest of her life, because she was free. Free of anyone who would have control over her, whose temper ruled her every waking moment.

How many times had she cursed his charm, his easy good looks, his title, his flatteringly intent focus on her? If he hadn’t been so damned persuasive, she would still be in Greece, in the warm sunshine, not in England where even the sunny days had an edge of damp.

She could barely remember her first impressions of him. And how wrong they had been. They had met when he was in Athens excavating for treasures to add to his extensive collection. Her father, a Greek statuary expert, had worked for him on site. She was 16 years old and thought she was terribly sophisticated. She had paraded in front of the English lord, thirty years her senior, hoping to make him notice her. He had. And she had paid for it ever since.

Her father had been equally naïve, not realizing his employer’s gruff bonhomie disguised a ruthless arrogance that brooked no argument. He’d even let her go without any kind of settlement money. Nor did he realize the last sight he would have of his daughter was when she sailed off with her new husband. Athena was married on board that day and had grown up forever that night.

Eventually, they’d achieved a peace of sorts; Lord Carlyle only hit her about once a month, and he allowed her to pursue her interests, as long as she never left the estate. She’d read all the works deemed necessary to a classic English education, practiced fencing until she was winning half the matches with her instructor, and rode for hours at a time.

And now he was dead. And Athena was free with a modest widow’s portion, a pleasant Dower house, and the opportunity to do whatever she wanted. She couldn’t wait to leave, to travel, to live on her own schedule.

What she would never do again was allow herself to be seduced by a handsome, charming man whose pleasant exterior hid a burning passionate temper.

Thanks!

Megan
www.meganframpton.com

Jason Lewis, pictured above, is the way I imagine my hero looking. I thought you might want to have something nice to look at while you read my writing.

Okay, this is ridiculous. I came over here today and wondered if today’s post-er had put her post up. I always like reading what my fellow Riskies have to say, even if I forget to comment (note to self: Stop being so damn reticent).

And then I remembered TODAY’S POST-ER IS ME!

Oy.

I’ve had some personal drama lately, having to do with a friend, thank goodness, not me, so I’ve forgotten what day it is. I am waiting for my agent to send me notes on my Regency-set historical, but I’ve also been dreading seeing the email in my inbox, because that’ll mean I have to knuckle down and do the revisions. Ack. We had Halloween, and my mother-in-law was in town, which means I have a cleaner house, but a more stressed brain, and it’s gotten colder, then warmer, then colder–honestly, I’m surprised I actually remembered Friday was my day.

So let’s turn the tables and have YOU guys supply the meat of the post, if you don’t mind:

What are you reading now?
What’s the last book you decided not to finish (if you don’t want to name names, that’s fine.)
What periods other than the Regency do you indulge in?
Which author have you glommed recently?
Have you started thinking about Christmas yet, or are you just surprised it’s November already?
Will you take your son to see Flushed Away just because Hugh Jackman does the voice?

Thanks, and meanwhile, I’ll WAIT here for your answers. Happy Friday!

Megan
www.meganframpton.com

 

 

I’ve read my fellow Riskies’ posts on contests with avid interest this week. I saw Diane win the Golden Heart AND the RITA at the RWA National Conference, and felt a vicarious thrill that my Beau Monde friends have done so well.

Me, I’ve never won any contest. In fact, I’ve usually ended up somewhere below the halfway mark in anything I’ve entered.

But I still believe strongly that they are helpful for unpublished writers, no matter where you place. Let me explain drawing, as always, on my own experiences.

When I entered the Beau Monde’s Royal Ascot, I thought I would final. I really did. This, despite my entry being THE FIRST THING I HAD EVER WRITTEN. This, despite knowing nothing of the caliber of writing from my fellow contestants. Shows how naive I was. I entered, I did not even come close to finaling, and I got my first taste of rejection. And then I read through the judges’ score sheets. I went through my files recently and threw out all but one of those score sheets, so I can’t quote what they said, but the judges who didn’t like my work that much had excellent feedback as to just why they didn’t like it. I listened, I edited, and I improved my manuscript and my writing knowledge. I thought those didn’t-like-it-as-much judges were dead-on in their criticism, and it was really helpful to get. (small pointer: I judge now, and I seldom receive thank you notes. I always send thank you notes to all my judges, even from the rotten scoring ones. I think that’s a courtesy that resonates.)

And then there was the judge who loved me. I got the highest score she bestowed that year, and in addition to my score sheet, she included a separate, single-spaced sheet of paper that started with this:

OK, here’s the deal. You are going to be published one day, probably soon. I feel it in my bones.

The judge went on to detail what she saw as the problems in my manuscript–again, she was dead-on (and I STILL info-dump! Megan, will you never learn?!?). And she was right! I took all the comments, sat on them in my head for awhile (and no, that’s not a visual you want to think about too much), and edited.

And then I sold the following year.

I entered a few other contests with one subsequent story, and again got excellent feedback, even though I was a mile away from finaling.

In my case, the key to finding a benefit to contests was being humble enough to realize I didn’t know everything about my story, or everything about my writing. Even if I ultimately disagreed with what a judge wrote, I had to treat it as a legitimate criticism, and think of ways to respond.

It all made my writing better.

I entered the RITA, and once again got three judges who loved my book, and a few more who were ‘meh,’ on it, and two who really disliked it. I decided not to enter my published work in anything but the RITA since those kinds of contests wouldn’t give me the feedback I wanted (the RITA I had to enter, just in case. I knew I wouldn’t final, but I had to know for sure).

So while Janet would say she entered contests to final, and Diane got hooked on the thrill of doing really well, and Elena’s a self-proclaimed contest slut (and I would be, too, if I finaled as much as she did!), I think the opportunity for someone to read your work who doesn’t know you and give you constructive feedback is incredible. Of course you’re going to get people who fuss about your margins, or tell you your hero isn’t heroic enough. If you can separate the wheat from the chaff, your writing will improve, even if your contest finaling percentage does not.

And I am so, so grateful to that one judge. And all the judges who took the time to analyze my story and my writing, and let me know what worked, and what didn’t.

Megan
www.meganframpton.com