Valentine memories by Sheila Claydon

At the end of my last post I promised to introduce you to Lady Sippington. Unfortunately she has proved to be a little shy and has begged me to keep her secret for a while longer. She will feature on the Books We Love blog eventually, however. Today, instead, I'll talk about something else and what better on 14 February than Valentine's Day because this year it is a very special day for me.

On 14 Feb 1965 my husband and I had our very first date, so Valentine's Day 2015 is the fiftieth anniversary of the first time we went out together. Now although I write contemporary romantic fiction I can't pretend that we are the most romantic couple. Valentine days have passed without us remembering. We've even managed to forget our wedding anniversary on more than one occasion, but I can still remember that first date as if it were yesterday.

I wore a Mary Quant little black dress (if you are as old as me you might remember her...very sixties) and a Mary Quant hairstyle of sharp bob and geometric fringe, and probably too much make-up. I really thought I was something. Fortunately my husband-to-be thought so too.  Also, somewhat shamefully, I was wearing a corsage of orchids that had been sent to me by someone else, but let's gloss over that.

My date, an older man by four years who actually owned a car, took me to a nightclub...my first. I don't suppose it was much more than a couple of smoke filled rooms and a bar that served little more than beer and soft drinks, but to me it felt like the most sophisticated date ever. I remember shuffling around a dance floor that was so crowded that actual dancing was impossible. Shortly before midnight, like Cinderella, it was time for him to take me home, but not before we enjoyed the ultimate in high cuisine...the bacon and egg sandwich with brown sauce which was the house speciality!

It didn't quite end there, however, because on the way home it started to snow. Of course we didn't think of the danger of driving in slippery conditions because at that age we were immortal, nor did we worry that the forty minute journey took almost two hours, but my mother did! She was waiting up for me and I can still 'see' the expression on her face when I opened the door. To say she was displeased is an understatement, especially as I was on a first date with someone she didn't know and he had delivered me home late.

Fortunately she wasn't someone to  hold a grudge and they eventually became firm friends. And in the words of Jane Eyre...reader...I married him...almost a year to the day after that first date. We have travelled a mile or two since then and are well past our sell by date now...but we still remember.

What about you?  What memories does Valentine's Day stir, and what about your first date with your partner? Do you still remember it?

Happy Valentine's Day.

First dates feature in quite a few of my books. You can find many of them at  http://bookswelove.net/# and all of them are available at http://amzn.to/ZSyLpf.  In Saving Katy Gray, Book 3 of my When Paths Meet trilogy, Katy's first date is not at all what she expected.

Fireworks, yum cha and vodka by Sheila Claydon

I'm living in Sydney, Australia for a few months. The deal is a winter in the sun in exchange for caring for my nine month old baby granddaughter on the days when both her parents are working. 

So what is it like living in a small city apartment instead of a sprawling house in a village on the northwest coast of England? Well on a daily basis it's not so different. There are still chores to be done and meals to be prepared. True the garden has shrunk to a few pots and a raised bed on the balcony, but there is still greenery, and the wind that whistles up from the harbour is every bit as blustery as the wind back home. The view is very different though. Instead of trees and fields I have a bird's eye view of the city skyline. I also have the added benefit of a pool and a spa and, of course,  the endless warmth that is Australia. No jackets needed, nor shoes really except to be polite. Instead, suncream, dark glasses, a hat and bottled water are de rigueur when leaving the apartment.

The other differences are more interesting though. My daughter-in-law is Chinese and my son has a Russian boss. This means that as well as Australians and Tasmanians they have many friends in the immigrant community, so over Christmas and the New Year I met American lawyers and chemical engineers, a Chinese tea importer and a Russian who owns several diamond mines, Chinese, South American and English bankers, a Phillipino nurse, accountants and financial analysts from China, property investors from Japan, China and Tasmania, an Australian clothes importer, a retired Australian TV producer,  IT specialists from India, the UK and Japan, and other immigrants from Singapore, France, Vietnam and Spain as well as a whole lot of children with the blood of two nations in their genes. It was an eclectic and fascinating mix and everyone of them without exception was friendly, outgoing and full of confidence. Inevitably this rainbow nation has given me a whole lot of ideas for future books, so many in fact that it's unlikely I'll ever be able to use them all.

More importantly, I've learned a lot about the traditions of other cultures. Although it's obviously a generalisation, I've discovered that many Asian parents co-sleep with their children in the early years. The mothers also follow their toddlers from room to room with a bowl of food or a drink in order to spoon a morsel into their mouths whenever they can. Despite having a well paid and successful career some of the brightest women succumb to their ancestral traditions, another of which includes being confined to bed for a month after giving birth while their mother takes care of the baby. Fortunately, from my perspective, my highly educated daughter-in-law refused to comply when her own daughter was born and my granddaughter is fast becoming a robust Australian who sits happily in her high chair, eats everything offered and  sleeps 7 - 7, alone, in her own bed. 

I've learned that manners vary enormously too and so do eating habits. On the whole the Chinese eschew anything sweet, never drink wine with rice, eat enormous amounts of vegetables and are very health conscious, whereas Europeans, Australians and Americans prefer BBQs with large quantities of meat and fish, rarely refuse the fries, and are happy to drink wine or beer with everything. 

Dress is very casual too. Shorts, t-shirts and thongs are the order of the day whether it's a BBQ, a shopping trip, or a day at the beach, and every Friday is 'Dress Down Friday' at work. The only exception is a party and even then it's mostly the women who turn on the glamour. And how the people of Sydney party. Celebrations started at the beginning of December and carried on until well after the New Year. Now they are enjoying a short hiatus before Australia Day and then it will be the Chinese New Year. 

The thing I've noticed more than anything though, is how young the population is. Everywhere I go there are young people enjoying themselves and pregnant women and babies of all nationalities, shapes and sizes. In the city as well as at the tourist spots there are fathers pushing strollers, tiny babies in carriers, toddlers tripping over their own feet, and older children, brown as berries, dancing along in thongs and shorts. Of course with all this youth comes technology and on the train the other day my husband and I were amused to discover we were the only people actually conversing. Everyone else in the very crowded carriage was plugged into a device be it an iPod, a cell phone or an electronic reader. 

Best of of all, however, was my meeting with an Anglo Indian from London who is married to an American lawyer and lives in New York. She was visiting her brother and his Chinese wife for the festive season - the ethic mix in Australia is truly mind blowing. Discovering that I am a writer  she not only downloaded Mending Jodie's Heart, the first book of my When Paths Meet trilogy, while she was talking to me, she also told me she was taking it to her book club as soon as she returned to the States. She did, however, check with me first that the heroine was feisty and independent. If not then the book was an absolute no no! As if I would ever write anything else.....

And lastly and most intriguingly I met Lady Sippington but you'll have to wait until next month's post to discover her story.

Many of my books can be found on the Books We Love website at  http://bookswelove.net/authors/sheila-claydon/

The Rewards of Random Reading by Sheila Claydon

When I go on holiday I rarely read the books I take with me. Instead I read the books previous holiday makers have left behind. Crammed onto shelves in the hotel reception area, scattered on tables in the guest lounge, stacked beside the TV in the villa or apartment...wherever we happen to be staying there are always abandoned books. And what treasures they are. On holiday I've discovered authors I've never heard of, learned new things, been reminded of  long forgotten stories, looked at situations in a different way and, in the reading, remembered why a new book is always such a joy.

Of course reading on holiday has an added bonus because it's one of the few times it's possible to read a book  from cover to cover in an afternoon.  On my last holiday I read The Color Purple by Alice Walker, and in the process learned a whole lot more about the American Deep South in the early part of the twentieth century. By the time I finished it I was so entranced that I followed it up by listening to a podcast of the actress Whoopi Goldberg being interviewed on the UK Radio programme Desert Island Discs. Whoopi Goldberg won so many acclaims for acting in the Steven Speilberg film of The Color Purple that I wanted to find out more about her, and thanks to the wonders of modern technology, I did just that. Apparently she was so deeply affected when she read the story that she wrote to the author asking for a part if a film was ever made of the book. Alice Walker wrote back about two months later to tell her she had sent  the necessary paperwork to the studios. The film script for The Color Purple was then written specifically for Whoopi Goldberg. It was her first big motion picture. The rest is history.

After I'd allowed myself enough time to think about what I'd just read, I turned to something that I thought would be very different but which turned out to be linked in the strangest way. This was Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal? by Jeannette Winterson who is a well known British author. It is a semi-fictional autobiography. I know this sounds like an enigma but I assure you it's true. To understand what I mean, however, you'll have to read it.

Like Celie in The Color Purple, Jeanette Winterson is someone who lives on the edge and who also spends much of her life searching for love as well as for a lost love. I didn't see the similarities while I was reading because  one was about a black community in the American Deep South in the 1920s while the other was set in the 1960s in a poor northern town in the UK. In both books, however, the main character was lonesome and abandoned, and immensely brave.  It was only afterwards that the similarities became clear, and that is another benefit of this random holiday reading...there is far more time to think.

There were other books too, more random choices, and while I read them an amazing thing happened. In each one of those holiday books I discovered a fact that was crucial to the novel I had just started writing.  I had an outline clear in my head and the first two chapters written but what I didn't have was the detail. I needed to research a lot of things if I was to get my facts right but it was hot and sunny and I was on holiday, so I decided to concentrate on enjoying myself and worry about the detail when I returned home. Ignoring that little voice in my head that said I should at least think about my story,  I just chose those random books and settled down to read.

I had no plan...I knew very little about them. I wasn't even sure I was going to enjoy them, but although I didn't realize it, they had a plan for me. In each book I read I discovered a nugget of information that I needed to flesh out my own story. I was also confronted by a new way of looking at a situation, something that made me reconsider how one of my characters was going to react. After two weeks of reading these random stories my research was complete without any effort on my part...so to every writer whose book I read in that villa in the sun, thank you. And to every holiday maker who has ever left a book behind, thank you. Random reading has much to commend it.

This link will take you to Sheila Claydon's titles, including her latest release, Book 3 of her Pathways Trilogy,  Saving Katy Gray 
 http://bookswelove.net/claydon.phpsheilaclaydon.com

How I found my hero by Sheila Claydon

http://youtu.be/nKSOFuQL5e0

There I was, off to visit friends in the Yorkshire Dales for a weekend of over-eating and dog walking, with absolutely no idea that I was going to meet the hero of my next book!

Visiting the glorious Yorkshire Dales when the weather is good is, indeed, like visiting 'God's own country.' Ask any Yorkshireman.  Visiting, as we did, when a blanket of grey mist hung like a pall over the whole landscape, was another story altogether. Walking left us damp and cold with our walking boots inches deep in mud, our trousers spattered with it from ankle to thigh and our hair lank and wet from the moisture swirling in the air around us. And when we climbed to the top of Middleham Low Moor we could have been at the end of the world. The gallops where race horses train most mornings were deserted. There was not a single  sound, not a jingle of harness or a creak of leather, not the snorting effort of the horses or the sharp calls of the jockeys, not even the sound of a curlew or the harsh shriek of a pheasant, just that strange cotton-wool silence as the world closed in on us. Think <em>Never-ending Story </em>if you've seen the film, and you'll be close. It was like Fantasia once it had been destroyed by <em>The</em> <em>Nothing</em>, except that in Yorkshire on that day, there wasn't even colour. Just a bleached white-out that hid the wonderful views that we knew lay below us.

Of course the local beer, the pubs that welcome dripping walkers, muddy dogs and wet boots in no particular order, the excellent and abundant yorkshire food, all made up for it, as did the log fires and the hospitality.  A delicious lunch of pork belly and apple washed down with beer soon had us putting the world to rights again. And then, right in the middle of everything, serendipity came to call.

I had only just decided that I wanted a musical background in my next book.  I hadn't even got as far as deciding what sort of music, and I was still in a dilemma about the hero when...there he was playing jazz piano at a jazz evening that we were taken to later that day, and where we swayed and clapped and drank wine with the best of Yorkshire.

So thank you Yorkshire, thank you Red Stripe Band, and thank you jazz piano player.  Don't worry.  You won't recognise yourself in the book because it isn't you, so please don't fret and please don't sue!  I just needed someone to point me in the right direction and you did it, with your music, your band, and your wonderful enthusiasm...so let's hear it for The Red Stripe Band.

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A drink, a dance, or something else?

The Red Onion Saloon

This month I'm going to take you on another journey - one of the most entertaining I've experienced during my travels.

This took place in Alaska which is wild and wonderful, and one of our stops was Skagway. In the 2010 census its population was 920 people. During the height of the Klondike Gold Rush in 1898, however, it was the largest city in Alaska, with a population of around 8,000 and with an additional 1,000 miners passing through each week. 

Nowadays, of course, the numbers of visitors are much larger. 900,000 annually, mainly from cruise ships, and each and every one of them enjoying an existence far removed from the tough lives of the gold prospectors. The memories haven't gone away though. The cries of “gold in the Yukon” still echo from steep canyon walls, as do the sounds of bar room pianos and boomtown crowds. It's a place where the romance and excitement of yesteryear lingers around every street corner, every bend in the trail.

Like all historic towns, Skagway boasts buildings full of artefacts and tells stories of hardships endured. People had to be tough to survive the gold rush. The prospectors' journey included climbing the mountains over the White Pass above Skagway in often terrible weather. Then on across the Canadian border to build a barge on one of its lakes so that they could float down the Yukon River to the gold fields around Dawson City. Soon, overwhelmed by the number of prospectors, officials began to insist that everyone entering Canada had to bring their own supplies to ensure that they didn't starve during the winter. This placed a huge burden on the prospectors as well as the pack animals who had to climb the steep pass.

It wasn't all bad though because it also offered a lot of opportunity to the people who decided to stay behind. Pretty soon there were stores, saloons and offices lining the muddy streets of Skagway. The Red Onion Saloon, was one of these.

A portrait of one of the original girls

 In 1898 it was one of the classiest dance halls and saloons in town. Was that because it also provided something extra? Maybe. You see the upstairs was a bordello which comprised 10 small rooms, known as cribs. Each crib was very small but elaborately decorated by the women who used them. A weary miner could wander into the Red Onion Saloon for a bottle of liquid courage and a dance or two with a beautiful lady. Then, ready to order something a little more personal, he would choose his girl in a very unique way. Behind the bar were 10 dolls that represented the 10 girls upstairs. As soon as the customer chose a doll, the bartender would lay the doll on her back, indicating that that girl was 'busy'. Once the personal services were complete and the customer had returned to the bar, the doll sat upright again, waiting for her next customer.

So what, you say? Interesting, but that was life in the gold rush. Well yes it was, but this was different. The Red Onion Saloon, having gone through a long history of thriving success and then dwindling to nothing as bigger dance halls and casinos were built in Dawson, is now operating again. Not as a bordello I hasten to add, but as a saloon full of beautiful, laughing girls who all dress in the style of the madams of the gold rush era.

So nowadays, after years of being used variously as an army barracks, a laundry, a bakery, a union hall, a television station and even a gift shop, it is open for business again. This time, however, the girls are merely guides and historians when they lead a group of visitors up the stairs to look at the 10 small cribs. And in their revealing red and black dresses with a black top hat perched on their piled up hair, they add a touch of glamour to the simple business of buying a drink. So do the barmen and the musicians who also dress the part. Stepping inside The Red Onion Saloon and hearing the tinny sound of the piano and the strum of a banjo, both overlaid with the the buzz of voices and the clatter of glasses, it is possible to see a shadow of the history of the gold rush right in front of you.

Modern day 'Madams'

But why did I find it especially entertaining? Well that's because our particular 'Madam', a beautiful young lady with the pretty and unusual name of Tamar, was born and educated in England in a place not very far from where I grew up. So there I was, approximately 4,250 miles from home, being served beer and tortilla chips by an attractive girl dressed as a gold rush Madam even though her origins were very far removed from the history of Alaska.

 Why was she there? Well in the manner of a true Madam, she winked and told me it was because of a man! " Isn't it always," she said.

Of course, as a writer of romances I had to agree. However, in her case, I should also hasten to add that she married the man well before she started to work at the Red Onion saloon. She told us that she had been working there for 10 years and it was one of the best jobs in the world. Five months of hard work during the cruise ship season and then seven months of relaxation with friends and family, not just in Skagway, but in warmer places during the cold Alaskan winter.

She made our day as we watched her dispense jokes and witty repartee with every sign of enjoyment. She tucked dollar bills into her cleavage while she collected empty glasses, smiled, laughed, posed for photo after photo. Thanks to the history of the gold rush, I suspect than the Red Onion Saloon has given the beautiful Tamar far more than it ever gave to those poor souls who lived and worked there at the end of the nineteenth century.

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The day an elephant kissed me... by Sheila Claydon

I'm still talking about the things that happen on a journey that are often so much more interesting than the journey itself and today I'm remembering what happened to me in Thailand.

If you think of Bangkok you might conjure up images of elaborate and beautiful temples, huge statues of Buddha covered in gold leaf, shaven headed monks in saffron robes, and the picturesque floating markets where women sell tropical fruit and vegetables, fresh, ready-to-drink coconut juice and even local food cooked from the floating kitchens on their boats. All these things would be true, of course, as would images of flower bedecked hindu shrines and the ubiquitous 3-wheeled tuk tuks that are used all the time by locals while the less adventurous stick to a conventional taxi. There is the exciting and colourful nightlife too. Full of beautiful girls, and of the even more beautiful katoeys who are so feminine that it's almost impossible to believe they're not female, and who work for airlines, at cosmetic counters in upmarket shopping malls or star in cabaret shows. Some are even television celebrities.

There are the markets too. Vast affairs. In Bangkok the largest is the 35-acre Chatuchak market which has more than 8,000 market stalls with just about everything possible on sale, from underwear to live animals, or, if you're feeling tired, you can have a restful foot massage instead. Then, of course, there is the food. Thai food is wonderful. It has so many flavours, one for every palate, and the best food is very often found in shopping malls and on the street. Thai people love to cook and they love to eat and I once had a wonderful meal sitting at a dilapidated table outside a cafe only a few feet from the road. Frequented mainly by locals, every dish was such an assault on the taste buds that I didn't care at all about the traffic zooming by.

This post is not about all that, however. I'm not going to go into detail about any of the above. Instead I'm going to show you what was truly magical about my visit.

Overwhelmed by the noise of bustling Bangkok we decided to spend a few days at Hua Hin. Once a tranquil fishing village it became a Royal resort when King Ram VII discovered it in the 1920s, and even though it is now a popular holiday centre it still retains some of its original quaintness and peace. In addition, its beaches are spectacular, with clear blue seas, palm trees and all the other things that make for a cinematic setting. So was the highlight of my trip a few days in the tropical sunshine topping up my tan, or was it just resting under an umbrella while I sipped a beachside cocktail? No, those things didn't happen. Instead I went swimming with a baby elephant.

It wasn't planned, it wasn't touristy, I was just there when the mahout brought the baby onto the beach for his first glimpse of the sea. Although my elephant is probably full size by now, his behaviour was exactly the same as the one I've posted here. He was nervous at first, then excited and finally, totally elated as he rushed in and out of the waves and let them roll him over. And while he did all this I swam with him and played with him, and then, when he was finally too tired to do anything else but totter back up the beach, I was allowed to share his bananas. I had one to his dozen or so, and feeding them to him was wonderful. He took them so delicately and gratefully, and at the end, just before his mahout led him away, he kissed me. Well that's what it felt like anyway when he gently touched my cheek with the end of his trunk.

I know it is possible to have elephant 'experiences' in elephant sanctuaries and I'm sure those experiences are enjoyable but the magic of my encounter was that it was entirely spontaneous and natural. My baby elephant wasn't trained or domesticated, he was just full of the energy and joy de vivre of the very young. How lucky I was to be on that beach that day. I will never forget it.

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What makes a writer?

What makes a writer? There must be a thousand answers to that but in my case it’s because other people fascinate me, and on my recent journey to Russia that fascination got the better of me despite the glory of my surroundings.

The Hermitage Museum in St Petersburg is almost beyond description. The 3 million people who visit each year cannot begin to view even a fraction of the millions of artifacts on display or stored in its ten buildings, seven of which are monuments of 18th and 19th-century Russian culture, so when I was taken to the banks of the River Neva to admire one of the most iconic views of the city, I should have been concentrating.  Instead something else caught my eye.

Sitting close together on the edge of the cobbled walkway were a young couple. Next to them were discarded takeaway coffee cups. She was holding a camera. Why was I more interested in two strangers than in the magnificent view opening up before me? Why did I stop looking in the direction of the tour guide’s pointing finger, and what made my ears deaf to the history all around me?

The answer is simple. I am a writer. So while my companions listened to the guide’s potted history of the city and how, once upon a time, it had been a great trading port, I was more fascinated by the couple in front of me who appeared to be completely oblivious to the rest of the world.

Why were they here? It was eight thirty in the morning, which explained the coffee but nothing else, so while everyone else in my tour group learned about the construction of The Great Hermitage (1771-87), the Russian Revolution (1917), and how more than a million items were evacuated from the museum to the Urals during World War II, I began to create a story about the here and now.

Were they illicit lovers who were stealing a few moments together on their way to their respective jobs, or were they new lovers who couldn’t bear the thought of having to spend a whole day apart? On the other hand, maybe the camera was the clue and they were just tourists like us who had set out to enjoy the view and been sidetracked.

I was intrigued by their body language too. The woman was slightly hunched against the early morning chill, one hand in her pocket, so had it all started when he’d put his arm around her to keep her warm? Was that her clever ploy? Was this their first kiss? Or maybe they were they saying goodbye, knowing they wouldn’t see one another again for a long time, if ever. No! They looked too happy for that. One thing was for sure, they were in love…hopelessly and ecstatically... and for a Romantic fiction  writer like me it was a joy to see.

I’ll never know their story of course, and nor should I. I will use that short glimpse into their lives though. One day, in one of my books, there will be a young couple sitting beside a river and they will be so locked into their own world that they will be completely oblivious to the people passing by. She might even be wearing a green coat…but the story will be mine. Whether The Great Hermitage will also feature remains to be seen!

Visit my website at sheilaclaydon.com where I often use things I have learned on my travels and where readers are promised a ticket to romance when they read one of my books.

Dear Artist: Favorite Styles

Dear Artist

Do you have a favourite style? I know you produce wonderful covers for BWL and I am sure that they are always the absolute best you can do based on the writer's requirements, but you must have favourites. What do you consider to be a five star design for a cover with regards to layout, colour, content, background etc?

UK Lady

* * *

Dear UK Lady,

Thank you for taking the time to ask such a fun question.  Really, it all depends on the genre of the book. 

When it comes to anything from sweets to erotic romances, I like covers that actually clue in to heat level.  I don't like to see, or create, a cover that is sweet at best for a smoking hot story.  Flipside, when a cover is hot enough to melt my monitor, but the story is lukewarm at best.  

For softer historicals, I am a fan of the older Julie Garwood time period style covers - with a castle, a flower, etc.  I LIKE those covers for soft historical romances.  That said, for the hotter works, I HATE that style of cover.  For hotter historicals, I like the ones with a couple on them.

Paranormal and Suspense romances should most definitely be evocative of the genre.  If there is a wolf shifter who is the main love interest, then either the title or the cover should express that in some way.  Same for if the book is set in the year 3125 on a far-away planet.

I am not much into straight horror and suspense and all, because I never feel like I am pulling it off well.  I am a 'fluffy bunny' cover artist - I like creating light, fun, sexy, covers.  So I don't have much insight to offer there.

Young Adult should be FUN and to some degree flirty, even if there isn't a strong romance.  The cover should flirt with the reader ... so a person, or an object, is fine either way on those.

Fiction, just general fiction - either historical or modern chick lit, etc should also be fun or somber, sexy or spooky depending upon the sub-genre.  Again, either people or objects look good to me.

Non-fiction can also go either way.

As for what makes a 5-star cover (to me), well ...

* The font has to match the images, and the images needs to convey/fit the genre

* The images need to actually look good together!  I can't express that enough.  Poor quality photo morphs where images of different characters are just slapped together without blending them into each other in a cohesive fashion just don't work for me.  And let's be real, there are a ton of them out there like that.

* The cover should absolutly, without a doubt, clue the reader in to the truth of the story.  There should be nothing misleading about it (unless the point is misdirection).

* The color choice needs to fit - in all details.

Like always, this post is just my opinion, so mileage can and will vary from artist to artist (and reader to reader).

* * * ~ * * *

If you have a question that you would like Dear Artist to answer, you can leave it in the comment section and it will be addressed (reasonably) soon.

Behind the Cover Artist's Curtain: Cover Branding

By Michelle Lee

BWL Art Director

When it comes to branding, there are many different schools of thought for each form of branding.

INDIVIDUAL COVER ARTISTS:

Some artists might suggest always using the same fonts for all of an author’s covers.  Others might want to keep the same style of images, colors, and so on.  Some could prefer just keeping series the same, and letting the rest of the covers have their own unique style.

PUBLISHER:

Each publisher might also have their own methods of branding.  That can vary from a logo on all covers, to a band along the top, bottom, or side of covers.

MY STYLE:

As a cover artist, I focus on making sure series books match each other (see my post on the subject).  Other than that, I tend to follow the authors lead on branding.

Some authors have requested a logo, image, or certain style to link all of their books.

As you can see here ... Rita has several different logo styles, depending upon the genre.  But for all her books, there is a logo with her initials in it.

Other authors have requested the same general style of fonts, or image layout.  

With Geeta's books, the first three are part of one series, but the last one is from another series.  Yet they all share similar styles with image layout.

 Still others have expressed no preference whatsoever, and so each cover is different from the others.

It does get more challenging the more genres an author writes in to help 'brand' the author's books with their covers … but as an author myself, I know sometimes I specific genre just calls to you.

As for how to brand yourself as an author, well, I am still trying to figure that out myself.  So if anyone has an ideas - please share them.

Now … this brings my original Cover Art series of posts to an end.  From here, I will be posting about whatever comes to mind, or addressing a specific topic I have been asked my opinion on.  So feel free to leave a comment if you want me to give my personal take on a cover topic.  I am certainly not lacking in opinions.

A Few Lines From. . . Sheila Claydon

Kissing Maggie Silver by Sheila Claydon

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean that to happen.”

Her face was flushed, her lips still slightly parted as she looked up at him. “I know you didn’t,” she said, her voice and her gaze steady. “I know you are going away again Ruairi, and I know there won’t be a place for me in your life when you do but…but can’t we pretend it’s not like that, just for today.”

At a complete loss for words, he stared down at her. She was keeping whatever was going on inside her head to herself. All he could see reflected in her wide grey eyes were his own feelings of desire and frustration. It brought him to his senses and, his heart heavy, he shook his head.

“You know it doesn’t work like that Maggie. If we take today, then we’ll want tomorrow too, and the day after that.”

“And would that really be so terrible,” she whispered, her face pale now, her body rigid in the circle of his arms.

"Yes, because then I'd break your heart."

The buying link is: http://amzn.to/10hfmBq

Next week it's a few lines from…Pat Dale

 

 

 

On the Casting Couch with Maggie Silver

I'm sitting on the Casting Couch myself this week to talk about my latest book, Kissing Maggie Silver and what prompted me to write it.

What prompts any writer? It can be a photo, an overheard conversation, a personal experience, a snippet of news, a throwaway remark by a friend...the list is endless.  In the case of Maggie Silver it was two things.  The first was a visit to a nature reserve in New Zealand, a place where seals, penguins and sea birds are allowed to breed and feed naturally without any interference from the rangers who protect them. The peace and the wild  beauty of the place is magical and especially memorable is a spectacular beach of pale sand that belongs to the tiny blue penguins that live there. No human had walked on it for many years. Instead the penguins and visiting seals  are viewed from camouflaged hides that are built into the surrounding cliffs.

The second inspiration was a photograph of a lovely red-haired model whose clear gray eyes seemed to be full of wistful  longing. I couldn't get her face out of my head and thus, Maggie Silver was born.

Once I'd found Maggie Silver I knew she would visit that beautiful beach in New Zealand one day; the problem  was how to get her there. I knew it was so far from her own life experience that she had a long way to go...much further than the geographical distance she would have to travel...to reach it. As soon as I understood that, then her whole personality clicked into place.She was the youngest of a large family, the only girl, used to being teased and treated as little more than a child. She was also kind, helpful, sparky and full of life. Deep down, however, she was still immature and lacking in confidence. I also knew she was someone who was actually more comfortable with her own company than she realised.

Ruairi was far more difficult.  I knew he was the person who would open up the world for her, but how? His face came to me long before I knew he was a wildlife photographer and there were no prompts. He just appeared, fully formed, in my imagination, the absolute counterweight to Maggie. After that it was only a matter of time before his tan skin, his size and strength and his casual confidence turned him into a world traveller, someone who could quickly be at home wherever he was.

After that it was easy because I already knew that Maggie had fallen in love with him when she was far too young to know what her feelings meant. I knew, too, that she had always had a special place in Ruairi's heart, so all I needed to do was to find a way for them to meet up again, and with Maggie's large and ever present family ruling her life, it wasn't difficult. What was difficult was finding a way for them to be alone.

Then there were the small glitches in their personalities that I had to overcome; Maggie's temper and her tendency to feel sorry for herself, and Ruairi's obstinacy. Maggie had to grow up and Ruairi had to learn that sometimes he was wrong. Fortunately they had good people on their side, people who wanted the best for them because they loved them, and because they knew, even if Ruairi and Maggie didn't, that they were absolutely right for one another.

To find out what happened and how they  got there go to http://amzn.to/10hfmBq or http://bookswelove.net/claydon.php. When you do you will understand how much I enjoyed writing about them.

And finally, who would I most like to meet? It's the question I ask all the authors who sit on the Casting Couch so I can't avoid it myself. In this instance it would be Ruairi. Maggie I already know intimately because I lived with her through every emotion and I suffered her frustration with Ruairi when he walked away. Ruairi is another matter entirely.  He has been to so many places in the world and seen so many things that he would be the ideal dinner companion, and the fact that he is easy on the eye would just be another bonus.

On the Casting Couch with BWL author Juliet Waldron

“Not all who wander are lost.” And Juliet Waldron has certainly been a wanderer. She earned a BA in English, but worked at jobs ranging from artist’s model to brokerage. Then, twenty-five years ago, after the kids left, she dropped out of 9-5 and began to write, hoping to create a genuine time travel experience for herself—and her readers. I think you will agree that she achieved her aim when you read about her books and listen to what she has to say on The Casting Couch. 

Juliet loves cats and grandkids and when she's not writing she enjoys taking long, long hikes through fields and forests, and making messy gardens.  She also hopes to make a few more pilgrimages abroad, and often rides behind her husband on his absurdly fast 'bucket list' sport bike.

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Welcome Juliet. Just reading your personal history makes me breathless. You have achieved so much in your writing career too so I am looking forward to finding out a whole lot more about you on the Casting Couch.

First, Sheila, Thanks for the invitation to join all the other great writers on your Casting Couch.

It's my pleasure. Now to the questions. Which characters are the hardest for you to develop? Is it the hero, the heroine, the villain, or the secondary characters?

My secondary characters walk on without much hassle by the time a story has begun to 'run' movie-like in my head. I often find them so obliging and talkative that I have to shut them down. Christoph, who began as a secondary character in Mozart’s Wife, proceeded to be so bull-headedly charming and persistent that I wrote Red Magic to wind up his story.

Sometimes writing heroes can be a toughie, especially if I’m trying for a romantic historical which involves cross-over into genre writing techniques. Beta males aren’t that popular, but it always seems to me that a real life Alpha male is not exactly as pleasant a guy as he is often cracked up to be. (Too much testosterone -- not quite housebroken.) I have written a couple of true alphas that I’m rather proud of; Christoph, above, and Jack in Angel’s Flight.

 When an idea strikes, do you work through the plot first and then cast the characters, or is it characters first? Or does it vary? Perhaps you develop the plot and the characters together.

Of necessity, plot and characters grow together, because I write historicals. In that case, the plot is already written for you—at least, if you’re going to follow the lives of real people, or use historical events for the storyline.  In historical novels, characters are deeply enmeshed in the period in which they live. People are, after all, shaped not only by unique personal circumstances, but by the world view they grow up with.

Can you give an example from a published story?

In Mozart’s Wife, the feckless young couple leave their first born, only a few months old, in the care of a 'baby farmer' while they travel to Salzburg to visit his family for two months. In the 18th Century, this was normal for theater people who had to travel on business.  It seems heartless, even criminal, to us today, but this was accepted practice. Infant mortality in the packed, dirty cities was necessarily high, and, pre-contraception, there would always be another baby quickly on the way. It was a tough part of their story to tell, and it had to be done in a way that a modern reader could understand and still maintain sympathy for the principals.

Do you have a system for developing their character traits? I know some people use Tarot or Astrology. Others produce detailed life histories. There are also writers who allow their characters to develop as they write. What's your method?

I fret a lot over my characters. In writing historicals, however, you know the facts, (or think you do) but sometimes you’ve got to continue to ponder the puzzle pieces, in order to understand their actions.  It took me over a year to produce a fair portrayal of Stanzi Mozart,  to satisfy myself that I understood some of the things we know she did.

All characters have goals. Can your character’s goals usually be summed up in a word or two, or are they multi-layered? Do they change as you write the book? Could you give some examples?

Multi-layered. The characters grow in the course of the stories, as they experience the unfolding of their lives.  Nanina, in My Mozart is a sensitive, talented, musical little girl when the story begins. She is innocent, naturally sensual and obsessive. In the crucible of her love affair with the remarkable musician who has been her beloved teacher and friend, she realizes her greatest passion, but the suffering which follows, combined with the strength of her obsession, tip her into madness.

 Motives drive a character. How do you discover your character’s specific goals? Are they based on back story or do other elements influence their motives?

Back story plays a big part for me, as well as qualities innate to the characters, which will push them in a certain direction. In Genesee, the heroine, Jenny, is Dutch and Iroquois. Acceptance and inclusion elude her, whether she is at an elegant ball in a fine house in Albany, or in a long-house deep in the wilderness.

 And last but not least, do you like your characters? Are they people you would want to spend time with? Assuming they are not just a paper exercise, which of your characters would you most like to meet, and why?

Roan Rose just released, is set in medieval times. It is the Ricardian novel (Richard III) I’ve wanted to write since my teen years, and it is full of characters I’ve imagined for a very long time. Of course, I’d like to meet Richard and his wife Anne, just as I’d like to meet Mozart and his Stanzi. (In a way, I feel I’ve “met” fragile Nanina, as that story was—yes, it sounds nuts--channeled.) 

However, the character I’d most like to meet is Roan Rose herself, a freckled Yorkshire peasant woman who is servant to Anne, and the narrator of the story. Rose is a gardener/herbalist and a lover of wild places, who draws strength and courage from Mother Earth. I’d love to dig with her, to plant with her, and to follow her sheep as they wander the dales. But heck, I’d love to spend time with all my 18th Century creations: Angel, pondering a quilt as a civil war tears her world apart; Jenny, who loves to climb trees and knows how to swim; Alex, the brilliant, brave West Indian; Red Caterina, who loves her horses far more than people…

Well one thing's for sure Juliet, there are a whole lot of your books I now want to read. I am also intrigued by the fact that when you write historicals you not only have to imagine yourself into a life very different from modern day but you also have to put yourself into the mind of a real person and try to imagine why their story unfolded as it did. It has been fascinating to learn how you do it. Thank you for sitting on the Casting Couch.

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Juliet has written a number of very successful books. Mozart's Wife won the First Independent e-Book Award, Genesee (an interracial love story) won the Epic Award for Best Historical. A companion novel, Angel's Flight is an on-the-road romance set during the American Revolution. Her other novels include Hand-me-Down Bride which is set in post-Civil War German Pennsylvania, Red Magic, a fantasy romance set in 18th Century Austria, Roan Rose which is a story of tangled loyalty and love during the Wars of Roses, and My Mozart, the 'mistress' companion to Mozart's Wife.

Go to http://www.amazon.com/author/julietwaldron to find out more about Juliet and her books 

She is also featured by Second Wind Publishing at http://bit.ly/X8gupd and by Books We Love at http://bookswelove.net/julietwaldron.php