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A Mistake, A Prince and A Pregnancy Down Under!

So, A Mistake, A Prince and A Pregnancy releases in Aus officially in December, but it’s up on the Mills and Boon Australia site right now!! It’s in print and ebook format…and Maximo is ten kinds of sexy on this cover!

An IVF clinic mix-up means eternally single Alison Whitman is now carrying the child no, the royal heir of Maximo Rossi, Princeof Turan!

Maximo gave up on the hope of fatherhood a long time ago, but now the ruthless ruler will seize this surprise second chance. However, tradition is high on the Prince’s agenda, and he’ll never stand for an illegitimate heir…

Alison is about to find out that royal marriage is a command, not a choice!

Onion Parfait

Turns out, it exists. And it must be the most layered meal of all time. Because the onion has layers and the parfait has layers and…and…my point? Oh yeah! I have one!

I’m talking about almighty layering today. And not the onion parfait kind of layering, either. The writing kind.

I feel the need to, once again say, I can’t teach anyone how to write, only how I write. And if something in all this makes sense to you, or gives you an a-ha! Then that’s ten kinds of awesome.

In order to give you an idea of how the layering works for me, I’ll have to try and explain how I construct a MS. This is also specific, and this is by no means the ONLY way to do it, or the only way an MS can be constructed. Just examples.

I try to begin my MSs at a point of change. (Elaine proposing to Marco in HIS VIRGIN ACQUISITION, Alison telling Max he’s going to be a father A MISTAKE, A PRINCE AND A PREGNANCY) That’s the external conflict and it’s also the thing that forces proximity between two people who would otherwise not be in proximity.

Then as the MS progresses, that element moves to the background as the relationship builds and the internal conflict gets more tangled up in things. You’ve moved through that first layer in the onion parfait and are now getting in a little bit deeper. You started at the  more superficial part of the story and are now going deeper into the characters as the central romantic relationship (ten dollar phrase!) progresses.

That’s a layer as far as the story goes. It’s the parfait! The big bowl of layers. And then you have characters, the onions. The layered bit in the layers. (follow me? Hungry yet??)

The characters should be layered as well. You’re working with who they appear to be vs. who they are. I’m going to use my hero and heroine from A Mistake A Prince and  A Pregnancy as examples.

Alison is smart. She’s confident, she’s pragmatic and she’s compassionate. She shows those things to the world. But underneath all of that is insecurity, a fear of becoming too dependent on others. She’s independent mostly because she’s afraid if she’s not, she’ll look to the wrong person for support, only to find herself crippled if she ever loses that support. Love, in her mind, is dependence, and she wants to stay far away from that.

Alison started out closed off to the idea of allowing someone into her life, of trusting someone with her emotions. She needed to get to a place where she was open to people, rather than being closed off. A Place where she realized that love didn’t mean dependence.

Maximo is a powerful man. A Prince. A widower. He’s strong and decisive, and yet beneath that is a man who fears he failed his late wife badly. A man who feels he failed as a husband.

And it’s Alison, and her independence, all of the things she’s made it through alone, that bring him out of that dark place and open him up again. And it’s the give and take in their relationship that gives Alison the courage to love.

But of course, before they reach that HEA…one of them is pushed too far too fast, which brings it all to that dark and lovely black moment. The ultimate in It Had To Get Worse Before It Can Get Better.

They both have a journey to go one, as individuals and as a couple. And to get there, it’s peeling back the layers…occasionally rubbing salt on some wounds…and generally making them miserable. Hurt them to heal them and all that.

So this is how I do it. My onion parfait. I hope some of this gives someone an a-ha moment! Even if the a-ha comes from realizing that it doesn’t work this way for you!

Doing it All Part 2

My husband has been out of town for a week. A. Whole. Week. That means it’s been me and the kids (ages 4, 2 and 9mos) hanging out and trying to prevent the house from collapsing around us.

And by the end of the day, I clean the house (again) and light some candles…sit down at the old iPad to write and…decide to go to bed. Or watch TV. Or something that isn’t writing. Or thinking. In other words, very much not doing it all. Not by myself at least!

It reinforces in my mind what a huge, huge thing my support system is for me. My husband* is a key part of my success. Without him, I wouldn’t be getting the output I am with my writing. I don’t know if I would be able to eek out more than a thousand words in a week! (don’t even get me started on anyone also doing a forty hour work week, kids, and writing…my mind boggles!!)

That said, I know women who do it with kids, and without the support of a husband or partner, and with full time jobs, because it’s what they have to do to. I’ve been spoiled with a lot of help, so I’ve come to rely on that help. And I rely on it more than I even realized!

Women are really, really hard on themselves. Because we do want a clean house for our family, and a nice dinner and for the kids to be happy and for the husband to be happy and for the writing to be done and for the book to be published and…and…if all of that doesn’t happen we seem to feel like we’re falling short somehow.

I personally carry a lot of guilt, and it doesn’t come from my husband, or even my upbringing, when I let housework slide. Or when I’m away to write. Even though I’m making money from it, I still struggle with that notion that I should be doing everything for everyone else before I do anything that is for me.

But it’s not about doing EVERYTHING it’s about doing the important things. The things that really matter to our families and the things that really matter to us. Because, as the saying goes, if mama’s not happy, no one’s happy. And taking care of us IS taking care of everyone.

I was really privileged to get to go to Nora Roberts question and answer session at RWA this year, and she said something that really resonated with me. She was talking about how in life, we’re always juggling things. Some things are rubber balls, and some things are glass balls. If you drop a rubber ball, it will bounce. The Pampered Chef party you were invited to will bounce. I’ve decided birthday parties for kids other than close friends have to bounce too.

My boys’ school things,  a night with my husband, deadlines that’s glass to me. The rest? Notsomuch.

I’m still working it all out. I’ll readily admit, I’ve sacrificed having much of a social life, and that’s partly due to the fact that I’ve very, very stingy with time. Because my family needs my time, my writing needs time, and then, I really think my husband and I need time, apart from the kids. 🙂

It’s all about that elusive balance really. Figuring out with things will break and which will bounce. (IMO, vacuuming bounces. A little tip from me. 😉 ) I’ve become a master at the fast dinner. I like to cook, but if I can cook fast, that helps the rest of my day go better.

And you know, there’s nothing wrong with feeling satisfied with your day. Even if there are still dishes in the sink. It’ll bounce.

I know it’s been said, and it’s maybe even a little bit trite, but we’re setting an example for our kids by going for our dreams. More often kids are taught that a dream like publication is too slim of a chance, not even worth pursuing. I think too often we let ourselves get told that! But for those of us who have taken that step to try, to go for it, well…that’s really a huge accomplishment all by itself. And one our kids, and hopefully a lot of people around us, will be encouraged and inspired by.

I can’t say my fabulous vacuuming** has inspired many.

We’re all doing the best we can, finding the balance, the one that works for us, and for those we love, and pursuing our dreams. Of that we can all be really, really proud.

* seriously I need him to come back already
** if vacuuming is a glass ball to you, don’t be offended…*kicks crumbs under couch*

Passion Week

I’m at the eharlequin community today for Passion Week! Ask me questions…about writing, about my books…or about me! http://community.eharlequin.com/forums/simply-series/passion-week-maisey-yates-makes-classic-debut-his-virgin-acquisition

Connecting Threads

I’m a total sucker for books that are connected. Not series, necessarily, but books that have common characters. I love it when a character I connected with in a certain book goes on to have their own story, and their own HEA.

I love it as a reader, and I find myself doing it as a writer.

Maximo, my hero from A Mistake, A Prince and A Pregnancy has a sister. In one scene where she was a key player, it came out that she was promised to a man, the sheikh of a far off country. A man she’s never met. That was when I knew I had to tell her story. If only so I could find out what happened when it came time for her to marry!

Isabella’s story, The Inherited Bride, will release in the UK in February. (I am absolutely thrilled that the book is out in February! I always associate February with romance, so that made me smile.)

Isabella has always known her duty. Her responsibility. To marry the High Sheikh of Umarah and open up trade routes and a much needed alliance between the desert nation and her home country Turan.

But, if you’ve read Mistake, you’ve seen a little glimpse of Isabella’s desire to experience a little bit of freedom before going from one tightly controlled existence to another.

Her bid for independence goes disasterously wrong, and she ends up with a strong, silent escort whose bent on taking her straight back to her intended husband.

Isabella had always intended on fulfilling the marriage contract she was bound by…but on her journey to her fiance she finds herself drawn to the wrong man.

The Inherited Bride is about duty, honor and desire. And what happens when those things are in opposition to each other.

And I just love how that first appearance of Isabella in Mistake to her HEA in The Inherited Bride shows her growth as a person.

But until February, you can meet Isabella in A Mistake, A Prince and A Pregnancy. 😉

Point of Change

No, not spare change. Not changing diapers, although, half the time when I hear that word that’s what I think of. I’m talking about the point of change in my hero and heroine’s lives.

I sent in my partial for the Frenchman and I got some very complimentary feedback: Good writing, snappy dialogue, good pacing. But…(there’s always a but. 😉 ) it lacked urgency. It lacked that conflict, that intensity that makes a reader NEED to keep turning the pages.

My heroine is coming off of the highest moment in her life. A show at Paris Fashion week for her clothing line. She’s at the top of her game, she’s in control, the press are all clamoring for interviews.

And that’s when Blaise walks in and pulls the rug out from under her.

Unfortunately, as it stands, he’s only walked in and tugged the metaphorical rug about a quarter inch to the side and said ‘there, now your metaphorical rug is askew!’

There needs to be more.

The beginning of the book marks a point of change for both Blaise and Ella. For Blaise, it’s the acquisition of Ella’s business loan. For Ella…well, it’s Blaise’s acquisition of her business loan. Their lives have been disrupted by this one thing. It’s that beginning ripple in the water that just keeps expanding and growing.

But in order to get the reader to stick around to see all those ripples grow, I need that initial impact to be powerful enough. They have to believe that this is a huge turning point, for better or for worse, in the lives of my characters so that they’ll keep on reading to find out what happens next.

So, over the next I will be revising and trying to add in that extra punch. 🙂 Then I’ll be writing the rest of the book and trying to maintain that impact until the end.

Generally, I start a book in the middle of a scene, a conversation, action. How to you start your books?

My Appreciation of You

Yep you. People who read this blog. People who comment on it. People who encourage me, here, on twitter, on Facebook and of course in ‘real life’.

When I read the awesome comments you guys leave me it always makes me smile. When I see the comments you leave others, and all the encouragement and kind words, it makes me smile. Because you don’t only support me, but so many others around you.

Writing can be a lonely business, but you all make sure I don’t feel alone. There are times when the crows circle, and you all come support me. Just one reason why it’s so important to me to try and offer support right back! Because we’re in this together. We want the same things, we have similar goals. It can be easy to feel competitive, I think, and to begrudge the success of others, but the truth is…I don’t see very much of that in this community.

I see a lot of good. A lot of support. It blesses me. It makes me proud to be a part of it.

So here’s to YOU. Because on bad days, you all make me smile. On good days, you make me smile wider.

This is where I ask for a virtual group hug. *g*

Oh, and on a different note. Yay for the Chilean miners and their families! I’ve been watching on the news and bawling like a baby (sensitive me). Thank God they’re making it out!

The Finish Line is the Starting Line

It’s easy to see The Call as the finish line in the journey of writing. It’s a finish line, for sure, but once you cross it, it’s time to drink some Gatorade and get running again.

You spend all that time working on your manuscript and waiting…but when The Call comes in…and specifically speaking of Harlequin…they’ll want more than just that one MS. See, M&B buy authors, not just books. This is SO very true.

When I got The Call, they offered me a two book contract, and this is pretty standard. My editor and I talked tweaks for HVA and then she said, ‘and we’ll want to look at the next on in six weeks.’

Fortunately, in my wait times, I have been writing. And writing. And writing. So I had a lot of manuscripts to consider submitting. That’s why I always say (well, maybe not always, but I’ve said it before…) that during wait times you need to KEEP WRITING. (write that down and then just keep going…)

So then I sold that second book and what happened next? I got offered a four book contract. And when I signed that contract, my deadlines were set in stone and I had to get myself to work!! *sweats*

I’m working on the last book in that contract right now.

I grant you, running the race as fast as I am is not expected, but you are expected to keep running. You make it in, but then you have to keep going. You have to keep revising, keep improving. I was doing a particularly prickly set of revisions for the Russian partial, and I expressed disappointment (using this —> :S emoticon in my email…I don’t recommend that behavior, but Jenny seems to ‘get me’ :p) in having ‘failed’ at making the partial as good as I’d hoped.

And my editor told me that it’s her job to make sure that what I’m writing is better than the last thing I wrote. And I SO want that. I do. I want to keep improving. I want to deliver great stories to my readers, stories that are told to the best of my abilities…stories that stretch my abilities so that I improve each and every time.

Getting published doesn’t mean I know it all, or that I even know a fraction. I intend to keep learning, to keep growing. To keep writing.

I think that’s why you hear some writers say it’s not any easier once you’re published. Now, I disagree. Getting published is pretty hefty validation that you don’t have when you aren’t published (I remember! LOL). But I think the point of the statement is that it’s still work. You will still get told something you wrote isn’t good enough, either by your editor, or, by a reader after it’s been seen by your editor, a million other editors, polished and bought.

There will always be revisions. (well, mostly always…) There will always be those times when you bang your head on the keyboard because the scene’s not coming together.

But it’s brilliant, and I love it. And I’m so pleased that reaching publication isn’t the end of anything. It’s the start of something new and wonderful.

I’ll be running in this race as long as they’ll let me. 🙂 Pass me the Gatorade!!

The Cinderella Brides

I got confirmation yesterday that The Russian is approved! I don’t have a title or release date yet, but I do know that in the UK it will be part of an anthology called The Cinderella Brides.

It was really the perfect thing for that book. I didn’t set out to do a Cinderella theme at all. And yet shades of it did end up popping up. My heroine was neglected as a child and raised by her brother. She’s made mistakes in her life. Big ones. Ones that she’s still working on healing from. She ends up working for my hero, Aleksei Petrov, who is a world-renowned jewelry designer (and he’s manly. Trust me, he is). She plans all of the glamorous exhibitions for his collections, one of which ends up being in a fairytale castle. 🙂

It’s not a simple fairytale though. Maddy doesn’t believe in love, and Aleksei never wants to take a chance on love again.

It was so much fun to take two people who didn’t want to fall in love, or even into bed, and put them in a situation where they found themselves so drawn to one another that they simply couldn’t fight it. They had both been so deeply hurt that for them, taking a chance on love was very scary for them. They both had totally different pasts, and yet they both knew about the high price of love.

Aleksei was a hero who had my heart. Every time I wrote tricky scenes with him I found myself crying. And I really don’t often do that while I write!! Madeline was a wonderful heroine too. Quirky, funny and driven, but with a dark past that she carried around with her and used it to hold onto the belief that she was somehow less than she was.

This book really stretched me, and forced me to dig deep. And it was worth it!

I’m so thrilled my editor loved them too, and when the book comes out, I hope you all feel the same way. 🙂

More on Method

I was talking to my good writer buddy Lisa Hendrix today over coffee, and I was talking about the advice I give on my blog. Lisa said something very, very true…when it comes to classes, and online workshops and blogs…we can’t really teach people how to write.

I can teach you guys how I write, but the thing is, there isn’t really a right way. There are several wrong ways (this includes targeting the wrong thing at the wrong publisher and the like)….heh…but not only one right one.

What I do is my process, and bits and pieces of it may translate to what you do, or it may not. Some writers write scenes down on note cards, others go through a word document and type “chapter one” then a summary of that chapter, “chapter two” a summary of that chapter, and so on.

I am not one of those writers. As I write (and here’s where I start to sound like aliens have landed in my ear and made pilgrimage to my brain) the layers of my characters, the deeper theme, and the plot start to truly reveal themselves to me. I’m not a total panster, but neither am I an organized index card plotter.

Two of the Sassy Sisters are complete pansters. They start with nothing more than a scene, a line, an image, and from there, they write the book. And it works for them. It really does. It wouldn’t work for me, but it’s not wrong.

I tend to have a few scenes in my mind that I know need to be written. And I work at getting my characters to that point. If a key scene in my head demands that my heroine trust my hero implicitly for that scene to occur, that means I know that trust needs to start building, and those scenes, where I’m trust building, I tend to pants…(heh)

I also need to write two or three beginnings before I really understand the characters, and what the book will be about.

There are many and varied methods, and as I’ve mentioned, I think mine tends to shift a bit depending the WIP, but the true essence of how I do it seems to remain the same.

There will be people who tell you that you need to do things a certain way, and while there are general rules to craft, the method is flexible, in my opinion. So never think just because you aren’t numbering scenes on index cards…or if you are…that you’re missing something crucial. It may not be crucial to you or your process.

Another part of my process is having songs for my WIPs. In my current WIP I have one very tortured, tall dark and handsome Frenchman and a heroine with a traumatic past.

Here’s my hero’s song:

And my heroine’s song!

Excerpt Time!

An excerpt from A Mistake, A Prince and A Pregnancy:

“Oh, please don’t rebel on me now.” Alison Whitman put her hand over her stomach and tried to quell the rising nausea that was threatening her with immediate action if she didn’t get a hold of some saltine crackers or a bottle of ginger ale. Morning sickness was the pits, and it was even worse when it lasted all day. Worse still when you were about to tell a man he was going to be a father.

Alison put her car in park and took a deep breath, almost relieved to discover a road block in her path. The wrought iron gates that partitioned the massive mansion from the rest of the world looked impenetrable. She didn’t know a lot about this man, the father of her baby, nothing really other than his name. But it was clear that he was way out her league, both financially and otherwise.

Her eyes widened when she saw a man in a dark suit with security issue sunglasses prowling the perimeter of the fence. Was Max Rossi mafia or something? Who had security detail in the middle of nowhere in Washington State?

The guard, because that’s what he had to be, exited through a smaller pedestrian gate and walked toward her car, his expression grim. He gestured for her to roll her window down and she complied, self-conscious of the crank handle that she had to use to perform the action. Her car wasn’t exactly a new, fully loaded model.

“Are you lost, ma’am?” He sounded perfectly pleasant and polite, but she knew that his right hand, which looked as though it was resting on his hip and was partly concealed by his dark suit jacket, was likely gripping a gun.

“No. I’m looking for Mr. Rossi. This is the address I was given.”

The man’s lips turned up slightly. “Sorry. Mr. Rossi isn’t receiving visitors.”

“I’m…” she swallowed. “I’m Alison Whitman. He’s expecting me. At least I think he is.”

The guard held up a hand and pulled a cell phone from his pocket and hit speed dial. He spoke rapidly in a foreign language, Italian, she guessed, before hanging up and turning his attention back to her.

“Go ahead and pull in. Park your car at the front.” He walked to the gate and keyed in a code. The iron monstrosities swung forward and Alison pulled the car through, her stomach seriously protesting now.

She really didn’t know Max Rossi, she had no assurance he wouldn’t harm her in some way. Maybe she hadn’t thought this through.

No, that wasn’t true. She had thought this through. From every angle until she was certain she had no choice but to come here and see the father of her baby, no matter how much she might just want to bury her head in a hole and pretend the whole thing had never happened. She couldn’t play ostrich on this one, no matter how much she might like to.

The house was massive, its bulk partially concealed by towering fir trees. The intensity of the saturated greens surrounding her were almost surreal, compliments of the year round rain fall. Nothing new to a native of the Pacific Northwest, but she rarely ventured outside the Seattle city limits anymore, so being surrounded by this much nature felt like a new experience. And seeing such a pristine, modern mansion set in the middle of the rugged wilderness was akin to an out of body experience.

Of course, the past two weeks had seemed like an out of body experience, first with the positive pregnancy test, and then with all of the revelations that had followed.

She parked her ancient car in front of the house and got out slowly, really hoping she didn’t lose her lunch in the middle of the paved driveway. Not exactly a way to make a good impression on a man.

The security detail appeared out of nowhere, his hand clamping firmly on her arm as he led her to the front door.

“I appreciate the chivalrous gesture, but I can make it through the door on my own,” she said dryly.

Her escort gave her a rueful smile, but loosened his grip and let his hand fall to his side. Although she noticed he was still ready to grab hold of her if he needed to.

He opened the front door for her and she had a feeling it wasn’t good manners that saw him allowing her to go in first, but a desire to have the advantage of being able to see her when she couldn’t see him.

“Ms. Whitman.” The deep, velvet voice held just a hint of an accent and the sound made her already queasy stomach turn, but not with nausea. This feeling was something she didn’t recognize at all. A strange twisting sensation that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. She put a hand to her stomach and tried to quench the feeling.

The sight of the owner of the amazing voice only increased the pitching sensation. She watched as he strode down the sweeping, curved staircase, his movements quick and smooth, masculine yet graceful.

He was the handsomest man she’d ever seen, not that she ever spent much time dwelling on men and their looks. This man though, demanded admiration, even from her. He was just so masculine, so striking. He would turn both male and female heads wherever he went, that was for sure. And not just because of his arresting features and perfect physique. It was his air of authority, the absolute power that emanated from him. It was compelling in a way that captivated her.

His square jaw was set and uncompromising. Hard eyes, dark and fathomless, framed by a fringe of thick eyelashes, stared down at her. If not for the expression in his eyes, she might have called them beautiful, but the intense glare that he fixed on her put paid to that description.

He looked familiar, although she couldn’t imagine where she would have ever seen someone like him. Such an example of masculine perfection hardly haunted the halls of the pro bono law firm where she worked.

She swallowed thickly and took a deep breath, hoping the infusion of fresh air would banish some of the nausea she felt. “Yes.”

“You’re from the clinic?” he asked, coming to stop in front of her. His posture would make a marine envious. She had to crane her neck to look at him, his height easily topping her own five foot four inches by at least a foot.

“Yes…no. Not exactly. I don’t know how much Melissa explained when she called you.” Melissa was one of her dearest friends in the world, and when she’d heard about the mistake made at the clinic she’d not only contacted Alison right away with Max’s information, against the wishes of her boss, she’d offered to be the one to contact Max as well.

“Not a lot, only that it was an urgent matter. Which it had better be.”

Not for the first time she contemplated just turning around and leaving, leaving the whole situation behind her. But that was the coward’s way out. She didn’t believe in leaving loose ends, and, unlike some other people, she didn’t walk away from her responsibilities, not ever.

“Is there somewhere we can go and speak privately?” she asked, looking around the cavernous entryway. No doubt the house had a lot of private rooms where they could sit and talk. Of course, the idea of being in an enclosed space with a man she’d never met didn’t rank as a favorite for her. She was trained in self-defense and she had pepper spray on her keychain, but that didn’t mean she wanted to get in a situation where she would have to use either one. Especially since she had a feeling neither one would prove effective against Max Rossi.

“I don’t have a lot of time, Ms. Whitman.”

Anger flared through her. He didn’t have a lot of time? As if she had any spare moments just lying around. It was difficult for her to take any time off of work. Every case they handled was vitally important to the people involved. They were advocating for those who couldn’t advocate for themselves, and by taking the afternoon off to drive up here and talk to him she was leaving her clients in the lurch.

“I can assure that you my time is valuable too, Mr. Rossi,” she said stiffly. “But I need to speak with you.”

“Then speak,” he said.

“I’m pregnant,” she said, wishing, even as she said the words, that she could call them back.

A muscle in his jaw ticked. “Am I meant to offer congratulations?”

“You’re the father.”

Method to the Madness

At least I tell myself there’s a method to my madness…though that method seems to change with each manuscript. There just isn’t a one-size-fits all approach to all books…at least not for me.

Sometimes I have a very plot driven idea first, and then I have to start peeling away the excess to get down to the essence of the story. Other times, I have all character and no plot. And once, the book literally wrote itself. The best marriage of plot and character ever.

Starting my new WIP this week and I have some *very* different characters. A heroine with an extremely traumatic event in her past and a hero who has lost his way, and, in his and his family’s eyes, his honor. Finding a setting for them, finding a way to execute so much tricky baggage, will not be a simple task.

I played with this a little bit on my last MS, though I didn’t do a full, real scene, but for my hero in this WIP, I wrote a scene that will never make it into the MS. It was his lowest moment. His fall from grace. And that was the moment when I understood him.

I’ve since tweaked the happenings of his past a little bit, but writing that scene, getting to go fully into that event that defined him, made him real for me. And it helped me realize how far he had to go, and what I needed to do to get him there.

So there you have it, a brand new method to my writing madness. It goes with talking to myself while driving or in the shower, compiling playlists that suit the mood of the MS and…googling exotic locations/hotels/houses.

What does your writing madness demand?