Beginning January 1, 2013

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Wednesday, June 30, 2010

GUEST BLOG: KARINA FABIAN

A couple of years ago, we drove from Colorado to North Dakota. Two days of driving. Driving in the Front Range or in the Black Hills is fun. Every twist of the road reveals fantastic vistas. However, there are long stretches of flat farmland. Occasionally, some interesting feature, like the World's Largest Cow, a lovely field of sunflowers, or a dilapidated old barn ready to collapse on itself, breaks catches your attention. Until then, you forge ahead, counting down the miles to your goal. Drive. Drive. Drive.

It's like writing a novel.

Sometimes, the words flow and reward you with an incredible scene or exciting revelation. Othe times, you slog through important but flat parts that the story needs. Then, the only thing you can do is write, write, write.

If you're lucky, however, you'll make some discoveries: that phrase that, like the World's Largest Cow, will catch your reader's attention and stay in their minds even after they're finished the book. Or the description that, like a field of sunflowers, brightens the entire scene. Or the segment that taken on its own is like the old barn and you wonder what that piece of junk can be worth, but when put in the context, gives the entire section a unique interest or even beauty.

That's why you can't just sit and wait for inspiration. It's like sitting at home wishing to arrive; you'll never get there. You have to drive.

Who knows what wonders you can discover on your trip?


BIO: Karina Fabian writes faith-filled science fiction and humorous fantasy, and teaches book promotion. Her latest endeavors include a dragon detective and an order of spacefaring nuns. Learn more about her at www.fabianspace.com

Monday, June 28, 2010

GUEST BLOG: PATY JAGER

My June release, Doctor in Petticaots, has a woman doctor as the heroine. While researching to not only find out about women doctor's in the late 1800's I also discovered a little about medicine at that time.

One good source was the book Pioneer Doctor: The Story of a Woman's Work by Mari Grana. This is a story of the author's grandmother who became a doctor in 1890 and first worked in the Montana mining country. The book describes some of the doctoring practices. The one that caught my attention and I had to look it up was the use of "adhesive bandages" for broken bones. That seemed too modern. Come to find out they were using "adhesive" bandages made of cotton bandages with plaster of Paris rubbed into the weave in 1851. A Dutch doctor first started using that method even though they had been pouring the liquid plaster into wooden boxes built around the legs for a while.

In some instances, the doctors would have two bags ready to take with them. One for regular medical care and one filled with the necessary equipment for birthing. Here is just a brief list of contents that could be in a doctor's bag in the late 1800's.

Obstetrical tools (some of these were pretty horrendous looking)
Tongue depressor
Ear spoon
Catheter/irrigator
Forceps
Catgut sutures
Glass syringe
Needles
Chloroform
Antiseptic soap
Peroxide of hydrogen
Laudanum
Drainage tubes
Percussion hammer
Stethoscope
Adhesive bandage
Clean rolls of bandage
Scissors
Scalpel

And the list could go on. The physicians of the 1800's and early 1900's had to carry practically their whole practice with them in order to be ready for whatever they found at the end of their sometimes long ride or late night summons.

Doctor Rachel Tarkiel, the heroine in Doctor in Petticoats, is struggling for acceptance in a male occupation. She had to settle for the only job her gender and her father's influence could get her- resident doctor at a blind school. Little did she know this is the very place she can learn to accept herself and find a man who believes in her skill.

Blurb:

After a life-altering accident and a failed relationship, Dr. Rachel Tarkiel gave up on love and settled for a life healing others as the physician at a School for the Blind. She's happy in her vocation--until handsome Clay Halsey shows up and inspires her to want more.

Blinded by a person he considered a friend, Clay curses his circumstances and his limitations. Intriguing Dr. Tarkiel shows him no pity, though. To her, he's as much a man as he ever was.

Can these two wounded souls conquer outside obstacles, as well as their own internal fears, and find love?



Excerpt:

“I’m going to look in your other eye now.” She, again, placed a hand on his face and opened the eyelids, stilling her fluttering heart as she pressed close. His clean-shaven face had a couple small nicks on the edges of his angular cheeks. The spice of his shave soap lingered on his skin.

She resisted the urge to run her cheek against his. The heat of his face under her palm and his breath moving wisps of wayward hair caused her to close her eyes and pretend for a few seconds he could be her husband. A man who loved her and wouldn’t be threatened by her occupation or sickened by her hideous scar.

His breathing quickened. A hand settled on her waist, slid around to her back, and drew her forward. Her hand, holding the lens, dropped to his shoulder, and she opened her eyes. This behavior on both their parts was unconscionable, but her constricted throat wouldn’t allow her to utter the rebuke.

Clay sensed the moment the doctor slid from professional to aroused woman. The hand on his cheek caressed rather than held, her breathing quickened, and her scent invaded his senses like a warm summer rain.



Wife, mother, grandmother, and the one who cleans pens and delivers the hay; award winning author Paty Jager has brought her husband of thirty-one years to maturity, along with four children. Currently the empty nesters farm 130 acres. She not only writes the western lifestyle, she lives it.
Paty has been a member of RWA for twelve years and has taught workshops at chapter meetings, conferences, and online.

She has four historical western romance novels available through The Wild Rose Press and one contemporary western, which won the 2008 Best Contemporary Romance EPPIE. She has two new releases this year, one a paranormal historical, Spirit of the Mountain, set among the Nez Perce and the fourth book in the Halsey brother's series, Doctor in Petticoats. She is also excited about her recently contracted contemporary western, Bridled Heart. To learn more about Paty drop by her website: http://www.patyjager.net

Wednesday, June 23, 2010

GUEST BLOG: LYNN HONES

Hi, I’m Lynn Hones. I am the lucky mother of two beautiful daughters from the fascinating country of China. I am also the wife of a very patient man. Thirteen years ago I realized I had a drinking problem. I didn’t know where to turn or what to do, but I met with a group of women with the same problem in an AA meeting. It changed my life.

I wrote my newest book, The Cult of Light and Lies, because I think there are a lot of women today with a drinking problem, and they’re not sure there is light at the end of the tunnel. My story is pure fiction, garnered from meetings, but jumbled and mixed up so the events belong to no one. If you enjoy Lifetime Movies, I know you’ll enjoy my newest read.

The Cult of Light and Lies

One night, and one stupid mistake, turned the life of suburban housewife and mother, Tilley Jenkins, into a prison of paranoia and fear. Dancing and drinking on a rare girl’s night out, feeling young and sexy, she flirts with a man she met briefly. Before she knows it, she’s had too much to drink and no way home.

She wakes in the morning and finds herself in bed with him, the first man she’s slept with, besides her husband, in twenty-five years. Her guilt spirals her down the pathway of depression and alcoholism, while her spirited and popular daughter rebels and falls into the hands of neighbors involved in a powerful and outlandish cult. Tilley gets the shock of her life, when she encounters the cult members and their strange beliefs as she fights to regain the trust and love of her daughter, and regain her own self-esteem in the process.


Excerpt: The Cult of Light and Lies

So high, she cared only for the music, the excitement and the fun, euphoric feeling inhabiting her otherwise dull, boring life.

They danced to three songs before heading back to the table. Getting late, a few of their friends left for home.

“Where is everyone?” A cocktail napkin in her hand, Tilley waved it in front of her perspiring face, and appeared concerned.

Maggie, who again gave everyone shots of tequila, smiled.

“They took off and left us. They mumbled something boring about husbands, children and responsibility. So that means we get to do their shots.”

Tilley didn’t see any problem and drank two in a row.

“Yeah, we’re leaving, too,” Michelle said.

Maggie spent the evening gaping at a cocky, shaved head cowboy and he finally came over.

“Not yet.” Maggie crooked her head his way. “I want to go two-step with John Wayne here.” Her hand out, he grasped it and they headed to the dance floor.

Annoyed, Michelle glanced at her watch and shook her head. “All right, a couple more songs and then we’re leaving.” Ensconced in her chair, she sipped water.

A slow song played and Steve led Tilley to the dance floor.

“I shouldn’t be doing this,” she slurred.

“You aren’t allowed to dance with a friend?” Steve smiled at her sweetly. “Think of me as a friend.”

Rhythms from the song melted her body into his and she pulled Steve close, her head on his shoulder, her face turned away. His hands on her hips, he moved them down to the round of her bottom and she felt he’d grown as he rubbed against her.

Facing him again, her lips caressed the stubble on his neck, just below his jaw line. His scent, intoxicating, she put a delicate kiss on his beating pulse.

Michelle witnessed the entire tawdry scene and showed signs of disgust. After they finished and sat down, she glared at Tilley.

“If you want a ride, you have to take it now,” she said. She let Tilley know she didn’t appreciate her behavior. “I’m leaving.”

“I’ll take you home later if you want,” Steve interrupted.

“Really! Great, yeah,” Tilley said. “Thanks.”

Michelle gave Steve a deadly stare. “She’s coming home with me.”

“Tilley’s a big girl, I think that’s her decision to make,” he said.

“Tilley’s had too much to drink,” Michelle said sarcastically and yet firmly. “So, I think as her friend, I should do what’s best for her.”

“I’ll be fine,” Tilley said. “Steve’s a friend. We know—each other from w-work. Don’t worry. Besides, I’ll be with Maggie. Go home.”

“You’ve had a lot to drink, Tilley,” Michelle said. “I’m worried. I think you should come home with me.”

“God, I’m not friggin four-years-old,” she said. “I’ll make up my own mind, hiccup, when to go home, thank you very much. I’ll thank you to keep your nose out of my, hiccup, business. Steve is a friend. He’ll drive me and Maggie home.”

Michelle, upset, left reluctantly. Tired of arguing with Tilley, she hoped for the best and depended on the fact Tilley knew Steve from work, although she’d never mentioned him before.

As if bounced out of a time machine, allowing her to replay her days as an unattached college girl, Tilley lived in the moment.

They did more shots and Steve pulled Tilley tight as the night wore on. Her inhibitions completely gone, she let him wrap his arms around her and press himself close. Michelle and her other friends gone, taking their judgmental attitudes with them, she felt free to have some fun.

The crowd thinned to a couple dozen people as the lights came on. Ready to go, the room did a spin and Tilley grabbed a table to steady herself. Darting a worried gaze around, she didn’t see Maggie anywhere.

“Where did Maggie go?” Tilley asked Steve woozily.

“She skipped town with the urban cowboy.” He took her arm. “Come on, I’ll take you home.”

Hesitant for a moment, she held onto him and they left the club together. His car, parked in the empty lot, appeared expensive and she attempted to open the door. Coming to her aid, he helped and then gently guided her in.

In the driver’s seat, he told her he was lonely, never having found the right woman to spend his life with. Feeling sorry for him, she enjoyed the kiss he placed on her lips, felt honored someone so good looking considered her worthy of such adoration, but her mind raced with worry at the mess she found herself in.

He reached over, cupped her face in his strong hands and kissed her again. His lips, soft and inviting, welcomed her kiss in return. The first man, other than her husband, she’d kissed in twenty-five years. Warm in his car, Tilley pushed a button to lower the window, but it didn’t move. Sick, hot and claustrophobic, she only wanted out. “I’m so attracted to you,” he said.

Monday, June 21, 2010

GUEST BLOG: ALICE AUDREY

I don’t consider myself a feminist. I think for me, it goes deeper than a political affiliation. I grew up doing all the chores with no gender distinction from dish to mowing the lawn. I was encouraged to consider any career of which I might be capable. There was never a “girls can’t” attitude among those whose opinions mattered, nor a “girls have to” attitude. I was treated simply as a person, and expected the same for and from everyone.

Then I grew up. I met a man, made a home, and started raising children. Suddenly my priorities shifted. I no longer expected to be a tourist to the moon. Nor did I feel much like being a rock star. Suddenly clean floors mattered – at least clean enough to let a baby crawl across. It was hard work. And suddenly I started thinking housewives don’t get enough respect.

Diane, the heroine in my sweet novella published by The Wild Rose Press, would disagree. She’s convinced there is nothing noble or endearing about a woman who devotes herself to caring for a man and his children. Though she might give them lip service, in the back of her mind she’s thinking the women who do it are chumps.

That would be all fine and well if she wasn’t so imminently suited to be a housewife. She likes to do for people. She cooks like a chef, cleans like a janitor, keeps tabs on her finances like an accountant, shops like a store’s buyer, decorates her house like an interior decorator, and does handy crafts like an artisan. In short, all the things she likes to do are the things housewives are expected to do.

Her day job as a clerk in an insurance company holds little interest for her, but having been dumped for a career woman, she isn’t looking for a husband.

Then Trigvey moves in. Literally. He can’t get into his new apartment on moving day and has very little time to call his own. With a bit of cajoling, he talks his new neighbor, Diane, into letting him leave his belongings with her.

If ever there was a man who not only deserved a housewife, but needed one, it’s Trigvey. He’s a doctor who just took a post at the E.R. of the local hospital. He doesn’t even have time to get enough sleep, let alone buy groceries, cook, or otherwise take care of himself. When sleep deprivation takes a toll, he is ready to give up on his lifelong desire to practice until Diane reminds him why he wanted to do it in the first place.


Diane is sure he’s only taking advantage of her, though he never asks for more than she offers. He must convince her he would love her regardless of what she chooses for herself. Then she learns that self respect doesn’t have to come from where you work.

Accounting and Romance? Why not? Alice Audrey, who does a little accounting in her spare time, likes to plot her novels on a spreadsheet. It seems to be working since she now has more manuscripts than she knows what to do with. She writes Romantic Suspense, Historical Romances, and even now and then something Sweet. You can catch her in action every Friday at her blog, Alice's Restaurant.

Wednesday, June 16, 2010

GUEST BLOG: DONNA DAWSON

I realize that it is an unusual practice to post on a literary blog with the aid of a dog but Duke the Chihuahua is no ordinary canine. He is an astute pooch and has saved me unnecessary grief on a number of occasions. There are, no doubt, those who, upon reading this, might have an overwhelming urge to dial 911 and ask for assistance for a delusional wordsmith but I assure you that I am completely in my right mind. And Duke would be quite miffed at the implication that he was nothing more than a figment of my imagination. So what can a pampered and slightly overweight Chihuahua add to a writer's web site? Plenty.

For example, Duke has just, in the past few days, pointed out to me the folly of his retaining the services of an `editor' without doing a background check first. I must say, as you might have read on my website blog, that I did warn the little fluff ball but Duke is a rather independent sort and paid no heed whatsoever.

"Does the editor have some sort of certificate or credential to verify an education in editing? Is there a list of references? A track record of employment at a publishing house?" All of these queries and more I put before my canine friend and he merely flicked a foxy ear, popped that button nose into the air and continued to seal and stamp his envelope.

It is quite tempting to remind poor Duke of those questions now as he sits and stares at his online bank balance. It is very low I assure you. That editor didn't come cheap and when I read the final draft from Duke's purchase my eyes just about bugged out as much as his do on a normal day. My fuzzy friend had been had. The manuscript was a mess. And suddenly he had a burning desire to check into credentials—which didn't exist. Duke has since continued to grumble about the expense of an editor that didn't do his job and I am quick to remind him.

"Ah Duke, my champion of the writing industry, you remember what I've said in the past? That an editor is worth their weight in gold?" He could see it coming. "You've paid the weight in gold but have foregone the editing." What could he say? Duke will be the first to tell you that a qualified editor is a must in writing. He simply had a lapse in common sense in the excitement of having finished that first book.

"So Duke, what piece of advice would you offer the readers from your store of experience?"

Mournful eyes relay the answer with eloquence. Don't trust the phrase `I'm an editor' without checking it out first?

Yes, wise advice. Whoever told you that must have been smart indeed Duke and you can stop growling at me now.

By Donna Fawcett

http://www.authordonnadawson.com

Donna's e-book 'Fires of Fury' can be found at

http://www.awe-struck.net



Donna Fawcett is a creative writing instructor for Fanshawe College in London, Ontario. She has written three suspense novels under the pen name of Donna Dawson. 'Fires of Fury' is her first romance novel. Donna's third suspense novel won Best Canadian Contemporary Novel and Best Canadian IP Novel in The Word Guild Awards.

Monday, June 14, 2010

GUEST BLOG: REBECCA CLARK

Be Nice to Yourself


I was never cheerleader material. Back in high school, I secretly wanted to be one, but was too much of a dork. Borderline nerd. It didn’t help that I was a size 11/12 and the rest of them were size 4 at the largest. The only time I’ve been a “4” was 4T, for “toddler.”

Maybe it’s the spring weather, but it seems everywhere I turn, I hear somebody talking about how fat they are, how crappy they look in shorts, etc. Skinny and “perfect” images hit us from every angle, on TV, in magazines, billboards and radio ads. Where does it end?

Where does it begin is the better question. It begins with us. (This is where the cheerleading thing comes in, in case you were wondering.) Personally speaking, I am my own worst enemy.

I put off becoming a personal fitness trainer for years because I didn’t think I “looked” like a trainer. Says who? Hollywood, who embraces lollipop girls like Lindsey Lohan and Paris Hilton? The media, who bombards us thousands of times each day with unrealistic images? Society, who tells us we need to be skinny and beautiful to be successful? Why on earth do we care what “they” say? Doesn’t being fit count for anything? Do we all really need to look like the airbrushed models on our favorite magazines?

My poor mind used to get battered and bruised from all the mental anguish caused by yours truly. It’s as if I was playing football against myself—tackling, rushing and head-butting me, myself and I. I didn’t need anyone else to do it for me.

Would you ever say to your best friend the things you tell yourself when you look in the mirror? I don’t think so. What would you do if I came up to you and said, “Oh, my God. You’re so fat!” or “Your butt is, like, its own continent!” You’d either slap me, tell me where to go, or start crying. If it’s not okay for someone else to talk to you like that, why on earth is it okay for YOU to talk to yourself like that? It’s not.

The point I’m trying to make amidst all this rambling is that you need to be your own cheerleader. Root for yourself. Part of my job as a trainer is to uplift my clients. “You can do it.” “That was awesome!” “One more rep.” “Don’t stop now.” “You’ll get there.” But who’s going to cheer you on?

Promise me you’ll quit belittling yourself. Life is hard enough, isn’t it? When you look in the mirror, focus on what you do like. When you’re discouraged or frustrated, pat yourself on the back and remember that each of your accomplishments, however small, is a big deal.

One more thing… You look fantastic.

Author’s note: Short skirt, ponytails and pom-poms not required…

unless, of course, you’re into

that sort of thing.



Rebecca Clark has wanted to write romance novels since she read her first Harlequin Romance at age 11. When she’s not writing, she works as a personal fitness trainer and group exercise instructor, where she teaches Pilates, Turbokick®, Zumba®, and yoga. She makes her home in the Pacific Northwest with her husband of 22 years, two kids, a German Shepherd beast who thinks he’s a lap dog, two cats, and a gecko. In her abundant free time, Rebecca enjoys reading, watching Criminal Minds reruns on TV, and doing absolutely nothing.


Wednesday, June 9, 2010

GUEST BLOG: LINDA ANDREWS

Description


Some people love it, others hate it.

Used poorly, the story's pacing tanks and readers set the book down. But used effectively, description brings the characters and story alive, drawing the reader in and keeping them emersed in another world long after they should have turned off the lights and gone to bed.

So how does one use description effectively? Below are four suggestions.

World building: Although this term is usually applied to Science Fiction and Fantasy, every writer needs to ground the reader in a time and place. For example:
Jane sat at the table and stared at her plate.

Technically, there's nothing wrong with the sentence, but does it really convey what the reader needs to know? Does it tell us what genre we're in? Here are different versions of the same action.

Jane perched on a rickety wooden chair and gaped at the single black potato on the chipped blue plate. This was dinner?

Jane sank onto the cushioned high backed chair. The emerald green tablecloth crackled with static electricity where is rubbed against her silk ball gown. Regiments of sparkling crystal, shining silverware and towers of bone china reminded her that she was an interloper in the halls of the beau monde.

Enhancing mood: Snoopy typed out those magic words, 'it was a dark and stormy night' and I knew exactly what he meant and shivered in anticipation the story to come. Gothic romance is known for its brooding heroes and atmosphere. But whether you write dark suspense or romantic comedy, your description needs to amplify the mood.

Night crept into the room, swallowing the candles' light before it reached the shadows lurking in the corners. The old mansion creaked and shuddered under the storm's onslaught. Rain tapped on the window panes of the French doors, demanding entrance, while beyond the flagstone balcony topiaries twisted into grotesque monsters lurching ever closer to Jane's sanctuary.

The sun beamed down from the clear blue sky like a giant smiley face. Droplets from last night's shower caught the golden rays and cast rainbows about the park. Along the gravel path meandering through the verdant expanse, children splashed in the clear puddles. Jane laughed as a Chocolate Labrador tried to catch the diamond spray.

Echoing Emotion: How we react to people and things around us is often a reflection of what we feel.

"I wouldn't have you if you were the last man on Earth," Jane said.

"As far as you're concerned, I'll be the last man you'll ever have," he replied.

Quite bland really. Now try this...

"I wouldn't have you if you were the last man on Earth." Jane wiped her palm on the arm of the overstuffed chair. The sweat coating her palms changed the gray microfiber cloth to charcoal. Tears filled her eyes and the gallery of family photos on the opposite wall morphed into a kaledioscope of lies.

"As far as you're concerned," he raked her from head to toe with a scathing glare then marched acrossed the eclectically furnished livingroom and twisted the brass knob on the front door, "I'll be the last man you'll ever have."

"I wouldn't have you if you were the last man on Earth." Jane flattened herself against the drywall. Her palms bumped over the orange peel texture and her racing heart seemed to transmit along the white wall, rattling the framed photographs hanging not far from her.

"As far as you're concerned," he braced his hands on either side of her head, boxing her in while peppermint scented words caressed her bare shoulders. His body heat buffeted her, melting the ice encasing her deterrmination, "I'll be the last man you'll ever have."

Action/Reaction: Everything your characters do has an effect and what better way to avoid musty, stale blocks of description than have your hero/heroine interact with their world.

Jane checked the flower arrangement and the place settings.

Jane's fingers fumbled with a scarlet cabbage rose, pulling it to a place of honor amongs the others arranged in the Waterford vase. After adjusting the trajectory of one cattail, she smoothed the siilk tablecloth and centered fans of black linen napkins on their gilded plates.

Jane's fingers fumbled with the black-eyed susans and daffodils in the mason jar. After adjusting the angle of a sprig of fern, she centered the makeshift vase over a burn mark on the scarred table and centered the triangular paper napkins over the mismatched plates.

Notice the verbs are the same in both sentences (conveying similiar emotions) but by choosing different words the luxury or lack thereof in each paragraph is different.
Of course great writers make things seem quite effortless and we'll gobble up the words with little thought of the effort it took to get them on paper. If you had to edit the following sentences, how would you change them?

Jane looked out the window and sighed. It's going to be a nightmare getting home.

or

"You don't know what you're talking about," Jane declared.

"Wanna bet," he replied.

Linda Andrews lives with her husband and three children in Phoenix, Arizona. When she announced to her family that her paranormal romance was to be published, her sister pronounce: "What else would she write? She’s never been normal."

All kidding aside, writing has become a surprising passion. So just how did a scientist start to write paranormal romances? What other option is there when you’re married to romantic man and live in a haunted house?

If you’ve enjoyed her stories or want to share your own paranormal experience feel free to email the author at lindaandrews@lindaandrews.net She’d love to hear from you.



Monday, June 7, 2010

GUEST BLOG: SHEILA GOSS

The Flipside of Social Networking for Writers

By Guest Blogger Shelia M Goss

Due to the Internet and the various forms of social media, readers have easier access to their favorite authors. This can be a good thing; however, beware of the flipside.

Blogging, Tweeting or being on Facebook can be a good way to express your thoughts on newsworthy items, let others know about your books, talk about controversial topics, etc. When you’re voicing your views online, everyone is not going to agree with your point of view. You might gain some readers using some of the social networks but you may also alienate a few people as well.

I’m not saying don’t say what you want to say, but beware that whatever you say on your own page or in the comment fields is subject to criticism. Should writers care about what they post online? How should an author respond to comments, especially those that are directed at them? I say use your best judgment. Some things can’t go left unsaid, while other comments need to be simply ignored.

Several of my favorite bloggers no longer blog on a regular basis because of fall out due to some of their blog posts. Some people took what they said on their blogs personally and there was a big “backlash” in the blogsphere from it. Personally, I feel like they should have kept blogging, but professionally, I can see why they stopped.

Some folks find it hard to separate the author from their books so if they don’t like their online persona, they won’t purchase their books. It’s unfortunate but that’s just how it is. The online social networks can be another promotional tool but beware of the thin line. On the flip-side don’t let the thin line stop you from having your say—just beware that what Mama said about “never say something you don’t want repeated” is not just true for your offline world, but it’s true for when you’re on any of the social networks too.

What’s your opinion about using online social media? Have you ever crossed the line and if so, what was the backlash? Do you ever use the anonymous key when posting? If so, why?



Shelia M Goss is the national best-selling author of six women's fiction novels: Hollywood Deception (2010), His Invisible Wife, My Invisible Husband, Roses are Thorns, Paige’s Web, Double Platinum and three young adult books: The Lip Gloss Chronicles series: The Ultimate Test, Splitsville, and Paper Thin. For more information, visit her website: www.sheliagoss.com or www.thelipglosschronicles.com.

What readers are saying about Hollywood Deception:

"With Hollywood Deception Shelia Goss has done it again. Love, lies and delicious drama! Pick this book up and you won't be able to put it down. Be ready though - this fun novel is not a passive read. You'll be yelling at Hailey, relating to her, wanting to slap her and cry with her all at the same time. Hollywood Deception is an all around good read full of scandal, just the way we like it. Well done, Ms. Goss!" ~Abiola Abrams is an Author & Media Personality. Viewers also know Abiola as the host of BET's short film show and Miss Picky of VH1's Tough Love. www.abiolatv.com

“Glitz, Glamour & LOADS of Drama…Ms. Goss once AGAIN keeps me turning the pages with another ENTERTAINING, yet fictional glimpse into the fast-paced lifestyle of a celebrity.” ~ Sweet N Sassy, Book Reviewer

Hollywood Deception is Shelia Goss' ninth book. It's available in hardcover and paperback and is available in stores or online from any of the online outlets such as Amazon.com, BlackExpressions.com, Borders, Barnes and Noble, etc.

Wednesday, June 2, 2010

GUEST BLOG: ANGELICA HART AND ZI

We have had opportunity to talk to many people that have an interest in writing. One of the themes that runs as if a stream of consciousness is writer's block. With empathy we listen to wannabe authors describe something tougher than a $2.00 flank steak. That blank white field before you taunting and teasing, "Fill me... fill me... with profound and purposeful rhetoric."

Ouch that does hurt. That screen needs a time-out. Bingo... that is what you need to do. Take the time to figure out what you want to say. There is a study out there, it might have been done by someone from Penn. This person polled famous and accomplished authors and asked what was the most important thing. The preponderance of responses were similar. To distill that... have something to say. That is right. Have something to say. There are plenty of people that craft well, many superiorly but if what they create is shallow or without an audience... then to what end? Pretty prose without purpose is like having cheese cake without sugar, just doesn't sit as well on the palette.

We once met a woman who wanted to write romance. Asked her to send us samples. She wrote erotica. We suggested she add romance, pointing out places where she could punch it up. She returned the piece and had written better and more erotica. She did have something to say. It was not romance. We recommended that she pursue that audience. She did. She's happy writing strictly naughty.

In our stories always know what we wanted to say. And sometimes it is as simple as love can be found anywhere, anytime by anyone if you look for it.

Our release Killer Dolls is a wonderful romantic thriller based in bio-terrorism. Snake Dance, another recent release, is a fantasy adventure romance placed in a unique culture. Chasing Gravitas (working title) is a gentle paranormal romance which provides an unfolding mystery, coming July 2010.

Angelica Hart and Zi

Their combined accomplishments include book publications in print and/or electronic versions of twenty-four titles, fifteen romance specific, ten manuscripts pending, EPPIE finalist for three books, Cecil Whig award, Hob-Nob Reader’s Choice Award, Book of the Year Finalist, KILLER DOLLS, Champagne Books, Author of the Year Finalist Champagne Books, written over 500 shorts with numerous published in both nationwide and small press magazines, articles published in various local, city and statewide newspapers, including four as a Guest Columnist in addition to trade articles. Both are members of various writing groups.

We'd love to hear from anyone interested in what we do. Anyone who writes us at angeliahartandzi@yahoo.com and leaves an s-mail address, we will send you a gift and add you to any future mailings.

Angelica Hart and Zi

KILLER DOLLS

SNAKE DANCE

CHASING GRAVITAS ~ July 2010

angelicahartandzi@yahoo.com

angelicahartandzi.com
KILLER DOLLS and SNAKE DANCE can be purchased at

Champagne Books

http://www.champagnebooks.com/