Back to Top

Category: Writing

Posts in which we talk about the writing craft and process

476px-Edmund_Blair_Leighton_-_The_Windmiller's_GuestYesterday I went to an all day workshop with Bob Mayer, who had many good things to say about bringing your germ of a story idea to fruition into a full-fledged novel.

But he said one thing that gave me, as an author of historical romance, pause….

He said that the best way to do research was from the novels of successful authors in your genre. The best way. He mentioned a best-selling author of military thrillers who researched from other books in his genre.

Bob’s point was that readers have already shown that they like the world created by the best-selling author, so, even if it is inaccurate, it is what sells.

1815 019 no 2In fairness to Bob, he was talking about the sorts of books he writes, not Regency romance, but it made me think about our ongoing debate about the importance of historical accuracy in “our” books. Regency authors (like our marvelous Myretta Robens) love to discuss the pros and cons of historically accurate Regencies to “wallpaper historicals” to those who just get it wrong. And we’ve often talked about the tiny Regency inventions Georgette Heyer put in her books to catch the authors who were using her for their history.

To me part of the fun of writing historicals is to fit the real history into a story that (hopefully) will appeal to the modern reader, but that is not necessarily every historical author’s goal nor is it necessarily what every reader of historicals enjoys.

Bob did mention that the best way to research setting is to actually go to the place and see it for yourself. If that was not possible, he advocated using books, websites, videos, maps to get the setting right. He did stress the importance of getting time and distance correct, which is something that sometimes bugs me in historicals. When I read of characters sailing here and there or traveling by carriage here or there in modern rates of speed, it does pull me from the story and tempt me to throw the book against the wall.

But does even that bother readers?

What do you think? Does any of this matter to you?

Posted in Reading, Writing | Tagged , | 12 Replies


Janet’s post yesterday dovetails in nicely with what has been on my mind lately: Finishing the darn book.

I don’t mean finishing reading it, but finishing writing and editing it. See, I’ve had this Regency-set historical I’ve been editing, and last night I officially finished editing it. Until my last reader reports in with her feedback.

Like Janet, I like the quick ending. I despise epilogues, especially if there are little bundles of joy around. Not that I don’t like kids (I have one, after all), it’s that I don’t romanticize parenthood. Overweight, exhausted women who resent their husbands for sleeping through the night? Not romantic. But I digress.

I do have problems with some authors rushing too quickly to the end. Janet mentions Judith Ivory in her post, and some of Ivory’s books seem like she just wants to get out of there.

Until recently, I wondered why she just didn’t take as much careful time to craft her story at the end as she had all the way through the book.

Until recently.

I was so excited to get towards the end of my book that I totally rushed through the ending, wrapping up all sorts of plotlines in a few quick sentences. I know I’ll have to go back and flesh things out a bit, but right now? I’m just happy to be done. My last reader is starting to read the ms. today, will have feedback over the weekend, so it’s not like I have a whole lot of time off from it. But it’s enough.

Not all of you are writers, but all of you do things in your lives that you start and finish. Do you find yourselves rushing to get to the end? Delaying it as long as you can because there’s just another task waiting beyond this one? Or are you that pinnacle of perfection, taking as much time and energy–but not too much–with the end as you did the previous 95%?

Meanwhile, wish me luck this weekend with the editing. I thought I was done.

Megan
www.meganframpton.com


Borrowed from fairy tales, known as the HEA in romance–does it always work? Do you appreciate the book that ends like a slow fade on camera, moving away from h/h? Or do you prefer the full monty of explanations, apologies, tears, laughter, the whole package of loose ends and subplots tied up with a pretty ribbon , followed by an epilogue where h/h are surrounded by babies and all’s well with the world? I have to admit I can’t write endings worth a darn. I write and rewrite the last few lines, then shrug and type in The End, and put myself out of my misery (several nights in a row for a week or so).

Here’s a technique for The End which I’m rather fond of: Black Ice by Anne Stuart, where you realize the heroine is indeed going to take up with that thrillingly scruffy French psychopath. All in one sentence. Any/all of Judith Ivory’s thrilling throwaway one-sentence enders–yes, I rather like the sensation of leaping off a cliff, particularly if h/h have spent the entire book jumping off minor cliffs and are now going for the Big One, the Commitment–marriage, the final frontier. I don’t want cosiness and domesticity and the patter of tiny feet. Let the dysfunctionality thrive beyond the endpages!

Some readers got very upset about the end of Jennifer Crusie’s Bet Me where the h/h married but had a dog instead of children. It was seen as breaking the rules in some strange sort of way; even stranger is that Ms. Crusie claims she wrote it that way because the book is a fairy tale (lost shoes! Princesses in towers! Yes, the elements are all there). I think the only sort of dog that appears in a fairy tale would be a magic one, with eyes that roll round and round, for instance, and guards treasure. Well, maybe there was more to the dog than we knew.

Share your favorite endings–without giving away the plot, if you can.

Janet

Overall, I enjoyed this recent article in the Atlantic: Beyond Bodice Rippers: How Romance Novels Came to Embrace Feminism.  But is this really news?

The article quotes Beyond Heaving Bosoms: The Smart Bitches’ Guide to Romance Novels: “Bodice-rippers are typically set in the past, and the hero is a great deal older, more brutal, and more rapetastic than the heroine.”

I never did read any books like this when they were coming out in the 70s and early 80s, but I’ve read some recent reviews of such. Here’s one that had my eyes rolling back in my head.  Feel free to indulge your morbid curiosity if you wish: Purity’s Passion by Janette Seymour, a Review by Redheaded Girl.

purityspassion

As a child, I read my mother’s Regency romance novels. I only started reading longer, sexier historical romances when I followed authors like Mary Jo Putney, Jo Beverley and Loretta Chase as they moved to writing longer books. Except for being set in the past, there’s no resemblance between their historical romances and the description above. The romances I like have heroes and heroines who worked through their conflicts emerging as equals, despite a historical backdrop where gender roles were more rigidly defined.

srainbows

So maybe I missed something but it seems to me that the romance genre has been moving away from the abusive hero/submissive heroine setup for decades and it isn’t a “new generation” of writers who are inventing this.

I’m woefully ill-read—life has done that to me—so I haven’t read most of the books mentioned. Did I miss another shift? The article implies that the new feminist romances subvert the stereotype. Does this mean heroines can now be as selfish and abusive as the heroes used to be? Actually, I doubt it, knowing some of these authors.

So help me out.  Is something really changing in the genre or is it a continuation of the shift to strong heroines and more equal relationships that began decades ago? And did you ever read of those Bad Old Bodice Rippers? If so, what did you think?

Elena

Ah, les garcons.

Time for another confession. The boys–Butler, Gruffudd, Firth, Bean, Northam, et al don’t do a whole lot for me. Furthermore, most men on cover art do even less. (What? And I call myself a romance novelist? Well, I did fail the trad reading challenge, and there’s also the issue of the HEA which I intend to blog about another time.) The whole topic of unwholesome romance cover art is covered elsewhere–check out the Smart Bitches–and I’m glad to see that some publishers are taking out the hero and/or heroine and moving away from the clinch cover. I mean, splutter, some of us have to read this stuff on public transport!

Back to the topic of male eye candy, partly inspired by a discussion on the Beau Monde loop, about how you’d describe your hero, e.g. Alan Rickman in Sense and Sensibility. Pam Rosenthal very sensibly suggested that the hero should be seen through the eyes of the heroine, bringing up the interesting point that the hero in chapter one might–and should–look quite different from the hero of the last chapter.

But without further ado, here is male cheesecake circa 1800, presented by Ingres. And yes, he did end the painting right there. Now, I think this guy is interesting. Quite apart from the issue of rethinking the sideburns (and, honey, that’s a fabulous highlight job–who does your hair?), he doesn’t have the overly broad shoulders, six-pack abs, and narrow waist/hips of the historical-set hero. He is, in fact, quite muscular but a bit chunky around the middle–all that vin ordinaire, I guess, considering the model is almost definitely French–and his equivalent on the other side of the Channel would attribute it to the beer (as would a modern-day Englishman). One gets the impression that once he resumes his normal posture he’d go bluh-uh-uh (happens to me all the time). He would, probably, have a great butt and legs to compensate, though, from all that walking and riding and athletic pursuits (my daughter also told me he might have a big right leg if he did a lot of fencing). Regency gentlemen might frequent Gentleman Jackson’s, but they would not find a Nautilus there, nor keep a Bowflex handcrafted by Hepplewhite in their study.

And here’s an example of a guy with great legs and the full monty as shown in a nude study of 1816–yes, he carries a big stick, a rope, sword, something, who cares, but this is not that sort of blog, thank you very much. But to me the most interesting thing (honestly) about this study is the position of his arm, strategically placed to cover the flab, something I’m quite familiar with. I also suspect he’s a working boy (no, not that sort of working boy–go wash your mouth out with soap!)–see how tanned his hands are.

I’m not the first person to be puzzled by romance’s insistence on physical perfection for the hero and frequently, in contrast, physical imperfection in the heroine. It’s fantasy, but of the “oh, come on…” sort. If a hero’s looks/build are not as important as his other qualities–loyalty, kindness, sense of humor, perhaps even literacy, then why is so much emphasis placed on his appearance? Or is romance the only place a woman can admit to appreciating a man for more than his mind? And what do you really find sexy in a man?

Janet

Posted in Reading, Writing | Tagged | 9 Replies