Put up Beneath Their Masks. No actual sex in this story; putting it in would have meant writing a different, longer arc.
Emaris woke cradled in Tedraun's arms, a row of faces staring down at her. Masks lined the walls of every chamber in his home, every imaginable beast depicted in a cacophony of shapes and colors.
"It's a good thing Mayfly Night's finally come," she murmured into his ear.
I just sent "Summer-set" off to Samhain Publishing for their shapeshifters anthology. I was determined to send it in even just a few days before submissions closed, because I didn't want to be that last manuscript leaping over the transom just before the portcullis slammed down. Honestly, a couple more days wouldn't make much difference in terms of editing, mostly because right now I can't stand to read this thing.
I'm proud of it, really. But it's been hellish trying to make a deadline and stretch myself to a longer length than usual, and I'm just exhausted by the story.
The funny thing is that I thought I would take a break from writing, indulge in some chocolate ice cream, and otherwise loaf off. But instead I find myself eager to dive into something--anything--else. There's actually a science fiction idea tickling my brain....
It's commonly observed that a writer can tell when she's written a good sex scene because it'll make her hot and heavy, even as she's writing it.
This is inconvenient when I have a strict word count goal and can't afford to take a break, let alone call the current boy. Squirming is not conducive to typing...
(I can almost hear the voice of generations of mentors in my head, but instead of, "Use the anger," it's: "Use the arousal, grasshopper.")
As we approach the thrilling climax of our story, ZOOM IN on the face of our dastardly VILLAIN. "Now," he proclaims, "I shall kill you—" He points dramatically to the HERO. "—so that your beautiful lover must witness your death!"
CUT to HEROINE's anguished face.
"But first I will explain my masterfully cunning plan to dominate the world!"
I tend to write as whim takes me, but the one checklist I'm keeping for this story is... not a list of different positions for the hero and heroine to have sex in, but rather meaningful conversations with each significant character, particularly the ones who might not necessarily be counted as good guys. It's all too easy to create a cardboard enemy as an external conflict for a romance, and I want to make sure I take the time to demonstrate motivation and dimension.
My purported bad guy is the ex-lover of the heroine, but they're actually on quite amiable terms; but people change in different directions, as I'm sure everyone has had happen in real life. He has a new lover, whom I actually like a fair bit, and I made sure to write in some quality time between her and the main characters, as well. The point is, he has a life outside of being evil and trying to meddle in the hero and heroine's true love.
Also, avoid stupid villains. There's no challenge. For a laugh and a lesson in pragmatic habits for villains, please read over The Top 100 Things I'd Do If I Ever Became an Evil Overlord [eviloverlord.com]. Some of these are things that evil overlords shouldn't do, such as "I will never utter the sentence 'But before I kill you, there's just one thing I want to know.'" And make sure your villain doesn't do them.
(I figure that if people read what I write, they can't be all that squeamish about such details.)
I was reading a list of someone's pet peeves in romance [livejournal.com] and thought, Hmm, to myself when I reached "Despite it being the first time for her, it is always the best sex he's ever had in his life, even if he's slept with trained courtesans and half of Europe to boot." It's true that a lot of romance heroines are virgins, and yet they have fabulous, rapturous sex that makes the guy determined that this is The One, and we all know no normal sex could effect that.
Now, I figure I can say (oh-so-modestly) that I was pretty good if the guy came early. (He did demonstrate greater endurance later, so don't go blaming him.) But in less modern times I suspect that the women didn't have the opportunity to explore the first three bases and become acquainted with male sexuality before deciding to go all the way. Yes, the emotional dimension may make the experience transcendental, but physically? Not everything can go smoothly.
Besides, so much of the fun is in how sex gets better the more you do it with each person.
I don't know if adding a moment of awkwardness detracts from the sensuality of the scene (the way some readers object to taking the time to put on a condom), but I think it does make it more endearing. I just read Eloisa James's Desperate Duchesses [books.google.com], and the hero takes two times to get it right. As I read that I was saying, "Yes! Yes!" (not that way) because sometimes multiple takes are necessary, and it said a lot about how the heroine was willing to let him get near her the second time.
Anyway, I just went and changed my heroine from a breathless virgin who lets the hero have his way with her, to a more experienced, demanding woman who ends up setting the pace when he starts off too slow for her. It might not be what the reader expects, but it was a lot more fun for me to write.
I've been typing too much lately -- I've got RSI (repetitive stress injury), and my usual workstation is painful to use. I speak of agonizing lines of fire up my arms whenever I type, probably because my desk is too high for me.
The solution, of course, is a new gadget. I could probably try the cinderblock-and-wooden-board method of getting a desk to the right height, but instead I went to the local Apple store and picked up one of their sweet wireless keyboards. It's extremely low-profile, symmetrical (I hate having an unbalanced keyboard on my lap because of the number pad on the right), the keys are easy to press, and it's light on my lap, so my legs won't complain.
Okay, so it's just plain sexy.
The hope is that this will let me eke out some more words on the current project. Off to work.
I'm trying to finish up a novella for submission to an anthology. I've mentioned before that some writers have natural lengths; I should've said that story ideas come with natural lengths, and writers just tend to come up with ideas of a particular complexity.
I'm not so sure I'm a novella writer, but I am lying fiercely to myself. I'm throwing in characters and plot twists left and right to get this story to the right number of words, and let's just say that I'm not much of an improvisational cook in the kitchen.
But I'm chugging away, and tracking the word count, and hoping I'll finish it in time to give it a good scrubbing over before I send it off. Would you believe this process has been sufficiently agonizing that I chose to write the query letter first, and that was a relief?
I want to hear about the plot/characterization/etc. instead of proofreading errors.
Then actually proofread your story. Misspellings, incorrect punctuation, and poor grammar distract me from those elements you want me to pay attention to, and it doesn't make sense for me not to mention something that's clearly wrong. The point is for you to get it as good as you can on your own before you bother me with it—if you truly believe you can fix these things on your own, prove it beforehand.
(any long, rambling author's note preceding the story, sometimes including a glossary)
Your story should stand on its own without any explanation. That's how the reader's going to encounter it, after all. If there's something you want me to look out for, tell me after the story. I do read stories more than once, so that I can give you honest first impressions as a reader, then later observations from the perspective of a fellow writer. The latter's when you want me to be aware of particular elements.
...Yes, I am trying out a critique group, but my overall sense is that it's not of much value to me. This isn't a blanket statement about its suitability for any other writer. I'm going to finish some obligations there, and then write some more about the experience later.
Story length is a tricky thing. There's often a certain length that a writer naturally falls into — the way some folks are sprinters, and others long-distance runners. It's as though my mind can only come up with so much plot; then I tie it off and move on. But I never set out with the ambition to write just a short story, or a novel. I start with a beginning, and whatever entanglements emerge from there do so without thought to how long they'll take to resolve.
I think the key to writing a novel is the presence of sub-plots. It's really hard to ride a single idea through those 60,000 words. There need to be interruptions along the way so that you're not just rehashing a single problem. Naturally, it takes a lot more work to weave in subplots that are relevant but distinct. Unfortunately, romance for me lends itself to focus: one man, one woman, and how they come to be together.
Or maybe I'm just lazy.
I had the interesting experience of writing of writing a story that works both with and without the erotic element. I know they say that that sex should only be included if it's essential, but there's a line between not-strictly-necessary and gratuitous, and I somehow managed to stay on this side of it. In this case, I kept coming upon moments where I wanted to spin up the tension dial and have meaningful — okay, hot and heavy — moments, but I held myself back.
I actually like the way it turned out. There's nothing definitive you can point to and say, "These characters have something for each other." But it's implied all over the place, and you can easily imagine how the relationship forms and gets more serious past the official end of the story.
But naturally I'll write in the erotic bits before I post it.
Put up the second one, "From a Garden Evening":
They had always told her that subtlety was best, but in their excitement they gave her a gold-embroidered robe to wear, and set jewels in her hair, and sprayed too much perfume upon her wrists, behind her ears, between her breasts. They all but pushed her through the curtain of tiny threaded bells, which announced her presence to the man sitting patiently upon a cushion on the garden patio.
She sank to the ground and made obeisance gracefully, not looking up until he said, "How are you called?"
"Mayremie, my lord," she said. He was, of course, quite unlike all the descriptions. But no seated man was that tall, especially if he was usually astride his war-steed, and no shoulders could be as broad without armor. It had taken no giant to conquer all the known lands of the east, only a man. This man.
