Wednesday on Writing: Body Language Basics

As writers we're often reminded to show rather than tell, and it can be a difficult thing for a writer to learn.  Even after nearly thirty years of studying the craft, I still have to remind myself to do it sometimes.

In case you're new to the craft of writing, let me explain: When you're in one character's PV and you want to get something across to the reader about the emotions of the non-PV character, basic body language is a great help.  Clenched fists, furrowed brows, a flex of the jaw, eyes cast downward--these are all great non-verbal, non telling cues. And we all know what they mean when we see them. (I realize I rushed that explanation; if you want to know more, I'd be glad to post a longer blog about it.  Just ask.)

I recently found a site on YouTube that takes videos clips of famous (and infamous) people and dissects their body language.  I warn you, though, it's addicting!  I highly recommend it if you struggle with showing rather than telling, or if you just want to take your body language skills up a notch.

I hope you find it fun and informative.

Happy writing!

Nic

Monday Morning Musing

Had a busy weekend though I can't complain about it.  Got to see some old friends at a graduation party over the weekend, people I grew up with and even one person from high school.  The pictures sent to me afterward had me wondering who those old, fat people were wearing our clothes.  ;o)

Sunday was largely spent working in the yard with hubby and dog nearby. Bliss.

Since I didn't get time to think about what to blog about, I leave you with this gem from Maxine.

Hope you had a wonderful weekend!

Nic

Friday Inspiration

Once upon a time this spot was reserved for a feature called Friday Friends, where fellow authors answered interview questions and promoted their latest story.

But since I'm still getting my feet wet at blogging again, and the main visits to this page have been from me, checking to see if I've had visitors, :o) I think I won't try that just now.

Instead I'll leave you with some writing inspiration, something I have loved for many years and have probably shared before.  But for me, it never gets old:

The truly creative mind in any field is no more than this: A human creature born abnormally, inhumanly sensitive. To him... a touch is a blow, a sound is a noise, a misfortune is a tragedy, a joy is an ecstasy, a friend is a lover, a lover is a god, and failure is death. Add to this cruelly delicate organism the overpowering necessity to create, create, create -- so that without the creating of music or poetry or books or buildings or something of meaning, his very breath is cut off from him. He must create, must pour out creation. By some strange, unknown, inward urgency he is not really alive unless he is creating.

-Pearl S. Buck

Happy weekend!

Nic

Wednesday on Writing: Conflict and Character Conundrums

Part of getting to know my characters again involved re-reading Wild Texas Wind, the story in which the hero, Kip Cooper, was initially introduced. It's been an enjoyable time reliving that story, but the problem remains the same: turning a scoundrel into a hero.

Sounds fun, right?  Maybe.  Yes, I loved Kip when I was writing for him, and of all my secondary characters, he gets the most mention.  Everyone wants him to have a story. Including me.

But herein lies the problem. He's not hero material.  He was introduced as a side kick, a bad boy, a con, a cheat. But secondary characters don't have to be quite as complicated as heroes and heroines --they don't have to be heroic (certainly not when you're creating them with no plans to give them their own story, as I did).  I did lay the groundwork for his "reawakening" toward the end of WTW, a near death encounter had left him shaken and ready to change his ways.  But by the end of the book, it's clear he's struggling with the whole "leopard changing spots" idea.

So Wild Texas Bride is partly about Kip's journey to becoming a hero, he's thrust into a position where he learns to care about someone more than himself, even as he's saving his own hide in the process (because Kip is all about saving his own hide--at least he was in the past). Easy peasy, right?

Not so fast.

Now, more than halfway into the book, he's taken my conflict and blown it to bits (I won't bore you with the details). And you know what? Without a conflict, there's no story. That's the first thing that jumped out at me when I opened up WTW to re-read.  Conflict. Convinced this was just a fluke, I grabbed my copy of Northern Temptress and read a few pages.  The first thing to hit me? Conflict.  The same thing happened with The Model Man.  Conflict, conflict, conflict. Maybe this is why I've been struggling to finish this story--it needs more conflict!

So how to wrangle your characters back onto the proper path when they've taken off in a direction of their own choosing? I've always let the characters drive the story, they seem to know more than I, so my gut tells me to simply take this journey with them and see where they lead the story.

I'll keep you posted.

Meanwhile, I am going to take my own advice and re-read everything I've written so far in WTB, just to reacquaint myself with the story.

BTW the picture of Owen Wilson is more than just eye candy. This is pretty close to how I picture Kip.

Monday Morning Musing... Is Blogging Still Relevant?

So a week or so back, while looking for the post on the heroes of Gettysburg (turns out, I had never posted it here, but on another blog) I came across my old author blog.  I say "old" because I'd forgotten all about it, neglected it, and quite honestly, thought I'd deleted it ages ago.

As I scrolled through, I was struck by how many memories it brought back.  Of my dad during the long journey of his illness, my boys when they were just little guys, my beloved dog when he was just a pup.  I've never been one for keeping a journal (Yikes! I don't want anyone reading my most private thoughts after I'm gone) but this was the next best thing.  A snapshot of a time in my life that was very different than now. Not better or worse, per se, just... different. Life now is teenagers (who ever said boys don't do teen drama was very, very wrong!) elderly in-laws who are not well, worrying about hubby, whose health is affected by the stress of caring for said IL's on his own and an old dog who, at 11-1/2 is slowing down on me. But here I am, still trying to balance, home, job, kids, etc without sacrificing sanity.

When I reached a milestone birthday last fall, it triggered not quite what I'd call a midlife crisis so much as evaluating and taking stock. I realized I'd let life and work push writing to the background and that I went days at a time without doing something for myself--not even one small thing.  I guess as moms we just get used to putting ourselves last, but I realized I was letting something important slip away--the writer in me.

I reconnected with my longtime critique partner and have been trying to resurrect my writing self.  It's hard.  That same muscle that we know gets stronger with regular writing definitely has weakened from lack of use. And reconnecting with characters I created a decade or more ago hasn't been easy, but I really want to get to know them again and see where they take their story. The new characters clamoring for space in my head can wait their turn.  ;o)

So here I am, trying to find time in my day for a little writing and, since I realized how much I'd missed blogging, trying to resurrect that as well, at least once or twice a week.

We'll see if life lets it happen!

Throwback Thursday: Wild Texas Wind

Another fun blast from the past for Throwback Thursday, this time from my first historical western, Wild Texas Wind...


All Raz Colt wants is land, a quiet peaceable existence and to put his life as a hired gun in the past. When the chance to earn a sizable fortune by rescuing a kidnapped heiress comes his way, he seizes the opportunity. Trouble is, the heiress doesn't want to be rescued. Offsetting Arden O'Hara's beauty is a rattlesnake personality and shrewish temper. Despite her claim that she faked the kidnapping so her fiance would ride to her rescue, Raz knows someone is out to kill her. And if anyone gets the pleasure of wringing her lovely neck, it's going to be him.

Arden O'Hara is desperate to go home. Her fiance was supposed to ride to her rescue, proving it's her---and not her father's money--- he loves. Instead an arrogant stranger, with weapons strapped gun-fighter low and a decided lack of sympathy for her situation, shows up spouting a ridiculous tale about someone trying to kill her. It's infuriating when Raz Colt's claims prove true after not one but several attempts are made on her life. She has no idea who this fast gun with the deadly aim is, or why he makes her feel as wild and untamed as the Texas wind. But like it or not, if anyone is capable of getting her home alive, it's Raz Colt.

~~~

Arden couldn’t be certain the exact moment she realized the approaching rider was watching her. But the chill crawling up her spine was the doing of the man lying unconscious beneath her. He’d deliberately tried to frighten her.

And for the moment, she was stuck. Her chin hovered mere inches from his chest. No matter how she struggled she couldn’t free her hair from beneath his dead weight.

“Wake up.” She tried to squirm free, to kick him—anything. She reached awkwardly around to slap at his cheek, but to no avail. He didn’t stir. Only the steady rise and fall of his chest assured her she hadn’t killed him.

The rider moved closer, slowing his pace to take in the scene before him. It was too late to play dead. She had a funny feeling it wouldn’t have done much good anyway.

The metal of the .44 grew warm against her palm, but her hand, pinned awkwardly between her body and the man she lie upon, was numb and tingly from lack of circulation. The rider stopped a few feet away and dismounted. He walked closer, then stopped, studying her with a smug expression. When the corners of his mouth turned up, she had the oddest feeling he considered himself the cat to her mouse. Every instinct screamed the truth. This was the killer.

In one grand attempt to remain alive, she rolled to one side, ignoring the sting of her scalp, and freed her arm. Cocking the hammer with her thumb, she trained the gun on him. “Don’t come any cl—”

A hand on the back of her neck slammed her face down on the ground. Her finger was squeezed tight against the trigger as he—the arrogant ass she’d been unable to rouse a moment ago—closed his hand over hers. Three shots rang out almost simultaneously, the kick from the gun lurching her arm as it fired. Something warm buzzed past her ear, like the hum of a bumble bee but much too fast and much too hot. She opened her mouth to scream but inhaled a mouthful of dust and dirt instead.

Silence reigned for only a second before he rolled off her, one hand pressed to his head where she’d struck him. “Son of a bitch.”

Sputtering, Arden sat up and wiped an arm across her mouth. The rider lay slumped at an odd angle in the dirt. She turned to the suddenly-conscious stranger “You killed him.”

He stood, hand still on his head. “You’re welcome.” With a motion of his finger, he wordlessly told her to stay put. Gun in hand, he approached the dead man, then nudged him with the toe of his boot. He bent to press two fingers to the side of the man’s neck. “He’s dead.”

“So I gathered.” She noted the precision of the two holes, one square in the chest, the other right between the eyes. Either would have been a lethal shot. Another chill slithered down her spine despite the sun’s merciless heat. Who was this man with such deadly aim?

“Do you know him?”

The sight of the corpse, already taking on a chalky hue, began to sour her empty stomach. She drew her knees up to her chin, shaking her head in answer to his question. “Do you?”

He glanced down at the man’s face, cocked his head as if considering. “By reputation only. At least I think it’s him.” He rose, reloaded, and holstered the .44. with a smooth motion that told her he did it often and without thought.

Throwback Thursday - The Model Man

For Throwback Thursday, one of my favorite scenes from one of my favorite stories.  This scene was so much fun to write...

This is from chapter 3--my hero isn't used to being turned down, especially by a woman he knows wants him...

The Model Man by Nicole McCaffrey

Earlier this morning he’d decided to forget about Kelly; she’d made her lack of interest clear enough last night. Somewhere along the way he changed his mind. “I sent roses, dammit.”

He reached the atrium. Looking relaxed, happy and gorgeous, Kelly chatted with her fans. He was struck once more by her fresh-faced beauty and mesmerizing blue eyes, especially with the sun’s glow on her pale blonde hair and her face alight with humor.

The memory of her in that red dress and the soft, sweet smell of her perfume rushed back to him. The way her nipples stood at attention when she removed his jacket. He knew he’d affected her, every bit as much as she had affected him.

“If she isn’t interested, she can damn well tell me why.”

Behind him, Frankie warned. “Derek, don’t do anything stupid.”

He never slowed his pace. As he made his way to Kelly’s table, an audible hush followed in his wake. She was so engrossed with the fans she didn’t seem to notice the change in the atmosphere.

At the table, the women waiting in line stepped aside for him. Bright sunlight streamed through the glass walls and ceiling, casting his shadow as he loomed over her. She stiffened before she looked up. He heard a slight hitch in her breath when he shoved a book beneath her nose.

Without a word, she quickly scrawled her name, then handed it back to him. “Who’s next?”

He stepped to the side, blocking her view. “Why?”

Her gaze flickered over the loincloth he wore since that was at eye level. A delicate flush crept over her face as her gaze slowly moved upward. When at last their eyes met, he was fighting the stirrings of an erection—and she seemed barely able to speak.

“I—I told your...” she waved a hand in circles, “zoo keeper, or whatever she is, I have plans.”

He folded his arms over his chest, uncaring if he sounded like an arrogant ass. “Change them.”

“I can’t.” She peered around him and gestured for the next person to come forward.

He leaned closer, covering the books spread out before her with both palms. “Why not?”

The glance she spared him was as prim and proper as a schoolteacher. “Because I don’t want to.”

“Then meet me afterward.”

“No.”

Knowing he was invading her space, he moved even closer, his face inches from hers. “Don’t make me beg, you won’t like it.”

“Then go away and stop asking.”

A wicked thought came to mind. Before he even had time to second guess it, he moved around to her side of the table and scooped her up in his arms.

“What are you—?”

“You left me no choice.” He lifted her high, tilting her toward him until she had to put her arms about his neck to hold on.

“Ladies,” he said, turning to face the room of startled onlookers. “Don’t you think if a man spends the night making love to a woman, the least she can do is have dinner with him?”

“Oh God,” she moaned. “Don’t do this...”

“I warned you you wouldn’t like it,” he said in a low voice.

****

Single mom and romance novelist Kelly Michaels has no time for a man in her life. But when mega-famous cover model Derek Calavicci puts the moves on her at a romance writers’ conference, she succumbs to temptation. Common sense prevails, however, and after a few passionate kisses she turns him down; she has impressionable teenagers at home, after all, she doesn’t need a one-night-stand with a much younger man, no matter how hot he is. When photos of their passionate moonlight kiss hit the tabloids, her agent has to do some fast footwork to save her reputation. Will the notorious bad boy go along with her scheme?

Derek rarely hears a woman say “no” – it’s been that way his entire life. If Kelly isn’t interested, he’s not going to push her-- even if she does melt like ice cream on a hot sidewalk every time he touches her. But when an unexpected opportunity falls into his lap by way of Kelly’s scheming agent, he jumps at the chance. Pretend he’s in love with Kelly Michaels for two weeks? No problem. After all, the lady may say she’s never going to sleep with him... but he's got two weeks to convince her otherwise.