Writing for Goldilocks

 

At the conclusion of a book club meeting, a woman stopped the discussion. "Dean, you struck the right balance when describing the scenes and characters. I finished another author's bestseller in one evening. The author spent so much time describing meaningless details that I skipped over pages to find the story's meat. I don't care what shape a cloud is or what shade green a room has been painted. I want the plot to move ahead."

Another reader added, "Yes, you give us enough description so we can form an image of the characters and place in our minds without putting us to sleep. You hit the Goldilocks spot."

Those comments made me reflect a couple of things. Twenty years ago, I contacted a literary agent about representing me. I send her a manuscript. It came back a week later with the first twenty pages marked up with red ink like a term paper. She said, "I quit after twenty pages because you aren't giving me enough character and place description. You need to open every scene with at least one page describing the scene, the characters, and how they're dressed. Send this back after you've done that."

I declined her advice. and we parted ways. I'm sure she's representing some best-selling author who fills his/her books with flowery descriptions. I'm very plot driven. After some minimalist description, I want the readers to create their own images of the characters and locations. Jill Fletcher is slender, doesn't wear makeup, and is hung up about her figure. Doug is middle-aged and ruggedly handsome.

That approach has led to some interesting discussions. A reader approached me after a book event and said, "I know just what the killer looks like. He's Garrison Keillor's twin brother."

I've read authors who spend a great deal of the book painting verbal images for the readers. I started reading a book by famous British author. She spent the first three pages of a book describing a dingy dormitory hallway as her protagonist walked to her room. It was wonderfully detailed, right down to the description of the different shades of lipstick on the cigarette butts in the sand outside the doorway. The problem was, I didn't care. I wanted a hook to pull me into the story.

At a recent Mystery Writers of America conference, a famous author spoke about the process of his best-selling book becoming a movie. He sold the movie rights to a film studio. The studio hired a screenwriter (a whole different skillset than writing a mystery). The book's author received a copy of the screenplay (for his approval). He was appalled that the opening scene, a man walking into a room where his wife was decorating their Christmas tree, had been boiled down from three pages to "Man enters room where wife is decorating Christmas tree." He called the producer, who explained that they had set and costume designers who would create the room and dress the characters. It was at that point that the book's author realized that he'd sold the rights to his characters and a rough plot. The screenwriter, producer, director, and actors would modify it as they saw fit. His input was neither wanted nor appreciated.

Back to Goldilocks. I try to walk a fine line. I got two conflicting bits of feedback on Dead End Trail. A female friend, who attended Catholic schools in a small town where all the children were immaculately conceived because no one in her town had ever had sex, called. "Dean (sigh) I was disappointed by the extreme amount of sex in your recent book." I seized up, trying to recall ANY sex in the book. Eventually, I replied, "My characters went into their motel room and closed the door a few times. I moved to another scene once the door closed." She replied, "But I KNEW what they were doing, Dean!"

A different reader spoke to me about the same topic, in the same book. "Dean, you break away from the romance scenes just when they're getting interesting." After a deep sigh, I replied, "I leave what happens next to your imagination." After a pause the reader replied, "My imagination might not be as good as yours. Keep the scene going next time."

Having decided NOT to write erotica, I prefer to leave Jill and Doug's romance scenes behind a closed door. Use your imagination. They're married and in love. I'm sure that's how Goldilocks would want it. Not too little. Not too much. Just right.

Check out "The Last Rodeo" and my other Doug Fletcher books at: 

Hovey, Dean - BWL Publishing Inc. (bookswelove.com)

I hope I hit the Goldilocks spot for you.

Apple Peels and Snails to Snare a Husband in the Eighteenth Century, by Diane Scott Lewis

 

To purchase my historical novels, click HERE

To celebrate February, the month of love, with Valentine's Day, I delved into the superstitions of the past when a village lass searched for her one true love.

Folklore abounds in the villages of England around the single girl’s search for a husband—as in the eighteenth century marriage was what most young women had to look forward to, or they’d be ridiculed and regulated to spinsters, farmed out as governesses, or forced to live on the charity of their family.

Most of these search-for-true-love customs revolved around the seasons.

 
At the ruined Abbey of Cerne Abbas in Dorsetshire, girls flocked around the wishing-well in all seasons. To obtain their heart’s desire, they’d pluck a leaf from a nearby laurel bush, make a cup of it, dip this in the well, then turn and face the church. The girl would then “wish” for presumably a man she already has in mind, but must keep this wish a secret or it wouldn’t come true.

Other customs included, in Somersetshire on May Day Eve or St. John’s Eve, a lass putting a snail on a pewter plate. As the snail slithered across the plate it would mark out the future husband’s initials.

On another ritual to this end, writer Daniel Defoe remarked by saying: “I hope that the next twenty-ninth of June, which is St. John the Baptist’s Day, I shall not see the pastures adjacent to the metropolis thronged as they were the last year with well-dressed young ladies crawling up and down upon their knees as if they were a parcel of weeders, when all the business is to hunt superstitiously after a coal under the root of a plantain to put under their heads that night that they may dream who should be their husbands.”

Throwing an apple peel over the left shoulder was also employed in the hopes the paring would fall into the shape of the future husband’s initials. When done on St. Simon and St. Jude’s Day, the girls would recite the following rhyme as they tossed the peel: St. Simon and St. Jude, on you I intrude, By this paring I hold to discover, without any delay please tell me this day, the first letter of him, my true lover.

On St. John’s Eve, his flower, the St. John’s Wort, would be hung over doors and windows to keep off evil spirits, and the girls who weren’t off searching for snails in the pastures, would be preparing the dumb cake. Two girls made the cake, two baked it, and two broke it. A third person would put the cake pieces under the pillows of the other six. This entire ritual must be performed in dead silence-or it would fail. The girls would then go to bed to dream of their future husbands.

On the eve of St. Mary Magdalene’s Day, a spring of rosemary would be dipped into a mixture of wine, rum, gin, vinegar, and water. The girls, who must be under twenty-one, fastened the sprigs to their gowns, drink three sips of the concoction, then would go to sleep in silence and dream of future husbands.



On Halloween, a girl going out alone might meet her true lover. One tale has it that a young servant-maid who went out for this purpose encountered her master coming home from market instead of a single boy. She ran home to tell her mistress, who was already ill. The mistress implored the maid to be kind to her children, then this wife died. Later on, the master did marry his serving-maid.

Myths and customs were long a part of village life when it came to match-making.


Source: English Country Life in the Eighteenth Century, by Rosamond Bayne-Powell, 1935.

Diane lives in Western Pennsylvania with her husband and one naughty dachshund. 

Growing old is...lucky! by Sheila Claydon

Find my books here

I know this book cover doesn't seem to match the title of my blog, but bear with me!

A couple of weeks ago my cousin was 80, so I called him to wish him a happy special birthday. Our whole life we have teased one another so I knew our conversation wouldn't be emotional nor full of the cliches often used on such occasions. What I wasn't expecting when I laughingly asked him how he had got to be so old, however, was his answer.

"It's because I'm lucky." he said.

Wow!

Then, on 9 Feb, I read fellow author Barbara Baker's BWL blogpost 'He's determined to Ski again' about her 90 year old father, and I clicked on the link to her YouTube video of him doing just that Dad Skiing Again - 90 years young - YouTube . He was amazing. So graceful and determined.

Double wow!

That video together with my cousin's words, were so uplifting. And my cousin is right. To achieve a very old age relatively healthy in both mind and body is not just lucky, it's a privilege. A privilege not granted to everyone. Like many people, I have lost friends in their forties and fifties. I also know two children who lost their mothers while they were still in reception class and another girl who died from a brain tumour when she was barely in her teens. The unlucky ones.

So old age needs to be celebrated. Medication, even operations, might be needed to keep some aches and pains at bay but they need to be celebrated too because, even as recently as the mid twentieth century, very little of it was available.  We are the lucky ones, which is something we should never forget, which brings me on to my book Saving Katy Gray the final book of my When Paths Meet trilogy.

It is a romance but behind the romance is the story of a bright and intelligent woman gradually succumbing to dementia and how, with Katy Gray's help, she found herself again. Not completely but enough. Enough to live a fulfilling life. Enough to use the skills she never forgot even on her worse days. The hero, the heroine, the romance are still there but I hope that readers will take from it the wider lessons. The ones that make growing older just part of life's story. 

I have two favourite sayings about ageing. The first is a slick throwaway, attributed to the film star Bette Davis.  And there is a lot of truth in it for even the healthiest of us as we grow older.

Old age ain't no place for sissies 

The second, by Albert Einstein, is the one I want to live by though.

Do not grow old, no matter how long you live. Never cease to stand like curious 

children before the great mystery into which we were born.

If I can do that right to the end, then I will indeed be lucky, and privileged. I hope you will too.

Other books in my When Paths Meet series deal with autism, childhood trauma, adoption, desperation and death. Not subjects that are usually associated with romance you say! Don't be fooled, these books are contemporary romance with a capital R. It is romance that is embedded in real life, however, because very few of us tread a smooth path where love is concerned. If you decide to read them, I hope you enjoy them.

More Than Romance by Helen Henderson

Fire and Amulet by Helen Henderson
Click the title for purchase information

February - the month of romance. For couples who didn't get engaged on New Year's Eve, Valentine's Day is an alternative. Then a June wedding is held. However, there is more to the month than the one event. Before the heart-shaped boxes of chocolate come out, there is Groundhog Day, celebrated on February 2nd.

What could be the most well-known event celebrating Groundhog Day is held in Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania. People gather in Gobbler’s Knob to see Punxsutawney Phil predict the weather for the rest of the winter. According to legend, if Phil sees his shadow (meaning the Sun is shining), winter will not end early, and we’ll have another 6 weeks left of it. However, what many wish for is a cloudy day. For if Phil doesn't see his shadow, there will be an early spring.

Pennsylvania is not the only place which claims a weather prognosticator. Among the other furry marmots which join the activity are Jimmy the Groundhog, Sun Prairie, Wisconsin; Sir Walter Wally, Raleigh, N.C.; Shubenacadie Sam, Shubenacadie, Nova Scotia, Canada; and my favorite, Staten Island Chuck, New York City.

The Ivy Hill woodchucks loved
to eat the tall grasses in the field and
along the lane.

According to the Farmers' Almanac, "Groundhogs prefer to eat wild grasses, leaves, berries, and, as any gardener who’s ever had one around knows, food crops." In some parts of the country, a sign of approaching spring is when the groundhogs, also known as wood chucks, leave hibernation to eat their fill of grasses alongside the interstate or country lanes.

The average groundhog can move approximately 700 pounds of dirt When digging its burrow. Burrows can be up to 46 feet long and up to 5 feet underground. On my family farm, they liked to burrow beneath the corner of buildings. Especially the wooden-floored shed where saddles, bikes, and gardening equipment were stored or the corn crib.

 

When snow covers the ground, the woodchucks
hibernate below ground in their burrow.

 

One canny groundhog had an entrance at the front corner of the shed and another at the back. He would come up see if anyone was sitting on the porch, before popping back into his burrow and coming out at the back of the shed to munch on whatever caught his fancy. To discourage using our garden as a buffet, the kitchen garden was on the other side of house to put the structure between it and the groundhog. We had to walk around the entire house to get to the garden, but the would-be thief had to go even further.

 

 I hope you enjoyed these memories.

~Until next month, stay safe and read.   Helen

 

To purchase the Fire and Amulet: BWL

Helen Henderson lives in western Tennessee with her husband. While she doesn’t have any pets in residence at the moment, she often visits a husky who have adopted her as one the pack. Find out more about her and her novels on her BWL author page.

I'm excited by Nancy M Bell

 

To learn more about Nancy and her books please click on Kayla's cover.

I'm excited because I am about to embark on my very first author tour! Jude Pittman, publisher of BWL Publishing and I will just be back from a whirlwind tour of Nova Scotia, Newfoundland, and New Brunswick when you read this. Currently, the date is February 7, 2023 and I am in the middle of preparing for the departure.

I've only been to Nova Scotia before and it was a quick visit, although I did get to Peggy's Cove and the best lobster roll ever! This time, we will be promoting the new audio books of the Canadian Historical Brides collection. SInce Jude is the co-author of Pillars of Avalon (Newfoundland) and I'm co-author of On a Stormy Primeval Shore (New Brunswick) we are covering as much of the Maritimes as possible in a short period of time. We will also be meeting with some BWL authors who live in the area, so doing double duty in that respect.  It will be so great to meet with everyone and enjoy talking about books and writing.  

Hopefully, the weather will co-operate as we're busing it and taking an overnight ferry from North Sydney, NS to Port aux Basques NFLD and then returning the same day via overnight ferry to North Sydney. Should be quite the adventure.

See you next month, until then stay safe, stay warm.