Targeting Your Audience by Connie Vines

The ‘how long?’ question has to be one of the most commonly asked by new authors – perhaps even experienced ones, too. It was certainly one of the first to pass my lips when I began to cross genres.

“What’s the age range?” I asked a multi-published at my local OCC/RWA Chapter monthly meeting.
“I’m thinking of aiming for older children,” I told her.
“That would be ages eight to twelve, then. In that case, it should be between 30,000 and 50,000 words.”

The precision of her answer was satisfying, but it also piqued my curiosity.
“Why that particular length?”
“It’s just considered to be the ‘right’ length at the moment for that age range,” she explained. “Not too long, not too short.”

This ‘Goldilocks’ principle is good general advice to keep in mind, but there are also more specific factors to consider that will help you nail the ‘right’ length for whatever genre book you’re writing. While you should work to your natural style, it’s advisable to be aware of and (as much as possible) write to the length that publisher and readers expect (logon to a publisher’s website for ‘publisher-specific’ guidelines.)

Type of book and target audience

You can hone in on a rough idea of ‘how long’ simply by categorizing what kind of book you’re writing and its target audience. Clearly, any six-year-olds without the miraculous intellect of Roald Dahl’s Matilda aren’t going to want to read something the length of A Tale of Two Cities. Similarly, most adults won’t be very interested in a 40-page picture book.

Most of the data I’ll be using throughout this article was sourced from Writer’s Digest  and personal experience.

Children’s picture book: 500–600 words over 32–48 pages.

Children’s chapter book: 1,000–10,000 words.

Middle grade: 20,000–50,000 words.

Young Adult (YA): 40,000–70,000 words.

Flash fiction: 500 words or less.

Short Story: 5,000–10,000 words.

Novella: 10,000–40,000 words.

Novel: Anything over 40,000 words. Anything over 110,000 words is an ‘epic’.

Adult literary and commercial fiction: 80,000–100,000 words is considered to be the ‘Goldilocks’ zone, though you could get away with 70,000 words minimum and 109,000 words max.

Genre

Again, when considering the authority of agents and publishers, “adhering to the expected word count demonstrates that you understand your market.” The ‘right’ answer to ‘how long should my book be?’ is dictated by the audience’s expectations.

Genre has more influence on book length than you might think... 

Here’s a guide to the recommended lengths for genre books.

Sci-fi/Fantasy: 90,000–120,000, anything over 150,000 words might be testing for your readers. As I just touched on above, books in these genres are allowed and expected to run longer than others. This is due to the amount of world building required to introduce a reader to a fictional setting, but be careful not to let this expectation manipulate your natural style.

Historical: As above.

Romance: 50,000–100,000 words. The wide range for this genre is because of the number of sub-genres that it can divide into: supernatural, erotica, historical, ‘chick-lit’, etc.  It’s also worth bearing in mind that longer romance novels seem to be the trend du jour, with bestsellers Twilight and Fifty Shades of Grey both comfortably over 100,000 words.

Crime/Mystery/Thriller/Horror: 70,000–90,000 words.  Suspense is key to all of these genres. Pacing is vital in creating suspense, which means it couldn’t be any more important to nail the word count.

Personal style

While you should certainly keep the data I’ve provided in mind, being too prescriptive about sticking to word counts will only impede your personal writing style. If you end up way under the standard word count, you know that you either need to slow the pace a little or flesh out some underdeveloped areas.

Never, ever loose your 'voice'.  The way each and every author tells a story is unique.  Your readers are downloading your novel or snagging it off a bookseller's self knowing you are a gifted storyteller.  Allow your readers to feel the emotion of first love, see and hear the waterfalls, experience the sweet taste of a huckleberry. . .the possibilities are endless.  Allow your readers to live this adventure--guide them well!

Happy Reading,

Connie


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2018 Releases:

Why I love Science Fiction so much - by Vijaya Schartz

Find Vijaya's sci-fi & fantasy from BWL Publishing here

I would love to write a story where the problems we tackle today are faraway in the past, where children are safe, where women are equal to men in every way, where race or species do not matter, where people live long lives free of diseases, where everyone feels appreciated and loved, where society takes care of all its members regardless of age or status, where greed is irrelevant, where power has no meaning.

Keep dreaming. We are not angels.

Even as I envision the far future, I cannot imagine that human nature will evolve that much. Changing the laws for the better, yes. Treating everyone fairly or else, yes. Increasing longevity and good health, yes. So, what's the problem?

Have you noticed that when a refined society falls, it only takes days for it to reverse to bloodshed, savagery and oppression? Take away our power grid, food distribution, and communication systems, and we reverse to bloody savages fighting over the last water bottles and cans of tuna.

I like to think I would be one of the good guys, helping those who cannot help themselves. But I cannot condemn the mother picking up a gun to feed and protect her family, the older brother killing human predators to protect a younger sister. Then eventually, small groups get together around a leader to defend and organize themselves. New towns form, and new nations are born. Eventually they war against each other, then unite again... until a natural or man-made disaster sets them back to the dark ages.

I suspect the future will not be any different. Our very nature is emotional, volatile, ruled by self-preservation. As long as we carry these aggressive genes necessary for survival, we will fight. When we lose these genes, the human race will wither and disappear. So as long as there is a human race, we will fight for survival. The means of destruction and the weapons may change, but the motivations will remain the same.

This is why I enjoy science fiction so much. It's a magnifying glass to experiment with new ideas and build new worlds, and observe the far-reaching consequences of our actions. It's a learning tool to guide us into a better future. It may help us make better decisions.

In the meantime, I just finished some edits on the first book in a new romantic sci-fi series: ANGEL MINE. It's set on Azura, a planet populated by angels, an ideal society at odds with the harsh reality of intergalactic greed and domination... but no society is ever ideal. The heroine is a bad ass bounty hunter, and the hero is an angel... what else?

ANGEL MINE is set for release in May 2018 from BWL Publishing. Here is the blurb:

What in the frozen hells of Laxxar prompted Fianna to pursue her quarry to this forbidden blue planet? Well, she needs the credits... badly. But as if crashing in the jungle wasn't bad enough, none of her high-tech weapons work. She'll have to go native, after the most wanted felon in five galaxies. It's not just her job. It's personal.

Acielon has never seen an outworlder like this fascinating female, strangely beautiful, and fierce, like the feline predator loping at her side. He always dreamed of exploring the universe, despite the legends... and the interdiction. Is it truly a hellish place of violence, lies and suffering? If it spawned this intriguing creature, it must also be a place of wonders, adventure and excitement.

Fianna's hunter instincts tell her someone is watching. Sheba, her telepathic feline partner, doesn't seem worried... yet, something on Azura isn't quite right.

Hope you will enjoy this new series.

Happy Reading.

Vijaya Schartz, author

Romance with a Kick

http://www.vijayaschartz.com 

Find my list of books at:

Amazon - Barnes & Noble -  Smashwords - kobo - Facebook

Fact or Myth, it depends on which site you choose for your research—Tricia McGill

Find all my books and where to buy here on my BWL Author page.

My next book due out later this year is set in two time zones, the Viking era, circa 850 AD, and the present day. It is not a time-travel but more a reincarnation story, hence the different times. The original idea for this book came from a friend, I confess, but we share this interest in Vikings, and the idea of lovers though time intrigued me.

Why I keep returning to the Viking era I have no idea. They just seem to fascinate me. Because they didn’t leave a lot of written history in the early days, so much that has been written about them is based on what has been garnered from the excavation sites around Scandinavia, Britain and elsewhere. Of course every new book has to be researched, especially when you are returning to a subject such as the Vikings. During my research for this book, I found out facts unknown to me before.

Fact one—Norse weddings. These it seems were extravagant affairs, and planned well in advance.   So much tradition was tied in with the ceremony, partly to please their gods and partly to please the families of both parties. A lot of haggling went on between relatives of the bride and groom. Considering the Vikings gained a reputation of being a coldblooded lot of invaders who ransacked and ravaged their way through life their respect for the treatment of women was one of the reasons so much haggling went on. Marriage was a way to control sexual activity and reproduction in the community. Both important to them, as marriage was the heart of family structure in their culture, a fact that surprised me.

Weddings were held on a Friday, the sacred day for Frigga the goddess of marriage, and the proceedings generally lasted up to a week. Family and friends often travelled far to the wedding hence accommodation had to be provided for them, which took planning, not to mention the provision of food and drink for all these guests. A special ale was drunk by the bride and groom during the ceremony so this had to be brewed in advance.

The couple were separated before the big day and for the bride this entailed being stripped of old clothing and any symbols of her virginity, the main one being her ‘kransen’, a gilt circlet. This was handed down through generations of daughters. The bride wore a crown during the ceremony. Apparently the Norse women were not worried too much about the bridal gown but more about their hair, which indicated her sexual allure, and therefore was kept long and flowing. This crown was an elaborate article, decorated with silver and rock crystals, crosses and even leaves.

The bridegroom also didn’t worry too much about his outfit, but might carry a symbol of Thor to indicate his mastery of the universe. This symbol also ensured a fruitful marriage. It seems this was their main consideration, producing offspring. Sometimes the religious ceremony began with a sacrifice, probably to the gods of fertility. A poor hapless goat might be slaughtered and his blood collected, and then sprinkled on the happy couple, so ensuring the pleasure of the gods. Another fact that surprised me was to learn that the couple traditionally exchanged rings during the ceremony.

Find lots more on Viking wedding rituals here.

Fact two—Vikings were good seamstresses. Their thread was usually the same texture as the woven cloth they were stitching together. I have always wondered how their clothes were made, as when you see pictures of them, either during everyday activities or in battle, it is obvious their outfits must be stitched by someone.  They were pretty handy with a needle, actually using different stitches for differing fabric thicknesses, such as silk, wool or leather. Because their traders travelled far and wide bringing back silks and treasures from perhaps Byzantium, Cordoba or Alexandria they were never short of fabrics to work with. A coin dug up in Jorvik (York) that was from a town near the Himalayas signifies how far they travelled. Anything about the Vikings’ decorating of their garments technique is sketchy but they possibly liked gold thread.  

My thanks to this site for the above information: 

https://www.cs.vassar.edu/~capriest/asvembroid.html

Fact three—Viking burials. A lot has been written about how the warriors and chieftains were buried with their slaves, all their weapons and jewellery etc. and how they were sent off to Valhalla in their flaming ships, but I was more interested in learning how the ordinary folk were sent on their way.   It seems that most were cremated on a funeral pyre, and then their ashes buried. Some of the wealthier would have been buried along with a wagon, perhaps for transport to wherever they were going in the afterlife. Not a lot is written about the lower classes so we are left to presume they were cremated along with any meagre possession they might have treasured.

Find more here:

https://www.danishnet.com/vikings/viking-burial-customs/

If, like me, you enjoy learning new facts then have fun, as I do, while exploring the wonderful WWW. And, if like me you are fascinated by the Vikings or reincarnation, then keep an eye out for my next release, Powerful Destiny.

My Web Page

White Raven - a paranormal short story by S. Peters-Davis

Hello everyone – thanks for stopping: ) I belong to a short story writing group on GoodReads and I’d like to share one of my paranormal stories – a favorite genre of mine. Hope you enjoy – White Raven

            We met when I was thirteen. The cool morning mist lifted off the water, my parents had already launched to fish, and I was left tending the campsite. My book lay open on the picnic table and I was totally absorbed in the paranormal romance of shifters when a white bird the size of an eagle landed on the table in front of me.

            It studied me, cocking its head side to side, stepping to the right then the left of me.

            Watching it watch me might have been unsettling to someone else, but I found comfort with its interest in me. I studied it right back; a Raven, only white and a huge size, with deep purple eyes and dark lashes. So, it wasn’t an albino.

            “Where did you come from? You’re amazing.” My words must have startled it because it stumbled off the table, hitting the ground with a loud thud. I shot to the other side where it lay unconscious. “You can’t die. I’m sure you’re one of a kind.” I touched its soft feathered head. A tingle vibrated through my fingers and up my arm. The bird shivered and its eyes opened. “Oh, my gosh, you’re alive.”

            “And you, Lacey, are nothing like I was told you’d be,” a masculine voice spoke inside my head.

I jumped back landing on my backside. My heart beat erratic as I gasped for air. We stared at each other. “You just spoke inside my head. You know my name.” I croaked the words, still working to breathe. “What are you?”

* * *

            Blaze glared at me in the moonlight, his purple eyes glowed. “What are you doing? You’re supposed to be practicing.” His straight white hair fluttered around his broad shoulders, his lips pinched together. “You’re eighteen and should have full access to your powers. Now is when you need to be trained.”

            We stood on the edge of a Picture Rock cliff, he expected me to jump, gain my wings and fly. Only I’d never flown on my own, even though I could make feathers appear randomly on my body, it wasn’t like launching myself into the abyss of Lake Superior just to prove I can’t fly. He swore the full moon would give me insight on what would happen if I jumped off the cliff, but I definitely wasn’t feeling it.

            “Come on, Lacey. Your parents were strong flyers, both of them. You’ve spent too much time with the human family and lost your instinct to the Avian way.” He stepped closer, his palm rubbed across my shoulder blade, warming my insides and making me feel safe. “It takes a nice dose of adrenaline to get those natural abilities firing through your system.” He shoved me and I tripped off the ledge.

            The moonlit water was not my friend. I closed my eyes. The rocks below would kiss me dead.

My body jolted as his talons slipped around my upper arms. I opened my eyes, his strong wings worked to save us from the crashing waves and rocks.

            He sighed. “Enough for tonight, we’ll try something else tomorrow.” He flew toward the forest.

Blaze had introduced me to the Avian race of people on my sixteenth birthday. They told me that I looked like my mother, who I didn't remember. They also spoke of my parents as royalty, which made me giggle. My parents had left me, a newborn, at the campsite of a human couple. Perhaps to save me from the hunter that had killed them. My human parents never shared I wasn’t biologically theirs.

My ventures with Blaze and our people were in secret. The more I learned about our kind, the more difficult it became to live in the human world. Especially knowing my aging process had slowed, upon turning eighteen I aged one year for every one hundred human years.

But perhaps part of my draw to the changeling world was Blaze. He knew me like no other.

            Blaze flew us deep into the forest, where our people lived in a small village settlement far off the beaten path, a place no human would ever consider living. He set me on my feet outside his home then he changed into human form. He’d insisted as my mentor and protector that I stayed with him.

            “Maybe you should change out of that tiny bathing suit.” His gaze wove a web of sparking prickles from my chest to my toes and back again and then our gazes connected. Those sparks on the outside of my skin scurried into my veins like a hyper-wave of lava. He stepped closer, his head tilted toward me, breath brushing my lips.

            I lifted my face toward him, my heart spiraling, eyes closing.

            He kissed my forehead. “Go, change, sleep. We’ll start again tomorrow.”

            My spiraling heart dropped as if knocked-out with a punch. I opened my eyes and watched him walk into the house, no need for lights with our excellent night vision.

My human mother came to mind. She had worried about my deep teal colored eyes and the distance I could see…miles away. I learned at ten years old to keep certain things to myself after running through a ton of tests. Thankfully she kept me from becoming a lab rat. I never shared my ultra-fine hearing or my ability to feel the minutest vibrations of insects and small creatures.

Like now. Vibrations and sound, snapping branches and twigs, I scanned into the forest at my left.

A gun fired. I saw the flame, fumes ripened the air. I sensed the vibration of the bullet as it passed my shoulder and slammed into the side of Blaze’s home.

“Umph.” His groan echoed in my head, then a thud loud enough to be his body.

My heart hummed, blood pumping through my veins with force. I stretched tall, my body automated. My bones and muscles snapped into a new place. I stared downward at talons instead of toes.

Another shot fired, again just missing me. My wingspan freaked me out momentarily, wider than Blaze’s, and brindle in colored. I lifted effortlessly into the air, soaring around tree branches, ascending then diving, hearing the ragged breath of the hunter. He was reloading his firearm.

His look of surprise told me he’d never heard my approach. I knocked him down, used my talons to grab his gun and snap the night vision goggles from his face. The Avians swarmed overhead, all sizes, ascending and lifting the unconscious hunter. With flying stealth, they carried him away.

I flew back to Blaze’s home; the door was open. My body morphed into human form as soon as I landed. Arianna, the Avian medic, was already leaning over his prone body, her glowing hands spread across his abdomen.

“How is he?” I ran to his side. His eyes were closed. “Is he unconscious?”

She stared at me with a look of awe. “You are the one.”

Not the response I expected, nor a clue on what it meant.

Blaze shuddered, his eyes opened. “Lacey?”

“I’m here. It was a hunter. He’s been removed from the area. How are you feeling?” I brushed a tendril of hair from his eyes. My fingers vibrated at the touch of his skin.

Arianna slid her hands away and inspected the area. A bullet clinked on the wooden floor. “Looks like you’re going to make it, my King.”

My King? I’d never heard anyone call Blaze that before.

“A little rest ought to finish the tissue healing.” Arianna rose from the floor, pocketing the bullet, and reached out a hand. I did the same and we both helped Blaze to his feet.

“What happened?” His eyes narrowed, brows drawing inward.

“Your owling came into her own. She protected first and foremost, like a true leader, my King.” Arianna bowed her head toward Blaze, then to me, and said, “We’re honored by your presence.”

I shook my head in disbelief, not quite sure what she was talking about. Nor why she was calling Blaze “my King.”

Blaze’s wide smile took my breath away, and as his gaze connected with mine my brain stopped considering anything else.

“You morphed?” He pulled me in, wrapping his arms around me. I nodded. “You morphed,” he whispered.

Arianna clicked the door shut on her quick exit.

Blaze tilted my chin up. “You have no idea how long we’ve waited; I’ve waited. Your timing is perfect, my Queen.” He closed the gap between our lips, crushing mine to his in a smolder of passion.

I held his face between my palms, our chests pressed together and our heart rhythms matched as one. An owl and a raven…

To see books by this author – check out author pages below:

DK Davis BWL Publishing Inc. Author Page: http://bookswelove.net/authors/davis-dk-ya-paranormal/

S. Peters-Davis BWL Publishing Inc. Author Page – http://bookswelove.net/authors/peters-davis-s-suspense-paranormal/

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Giving in to Emmaline by Victoria Chatham

AMAZON AND ALL MARKETS

When I first saw Emmeline Devereux, my heroine in His Dark Enchantress, she was soaking wet with her long black hair plastered to her head and her dress cloaking her like a second skin. I saw her clearly, I knew her name, I knew she liked horses, I knew she was venturesome and then…what was I going to do with her? She really didn’t tell me anything more about herself and each time I put her into a story, it just didn’t work out for her or for me.

I’m sure there are many authors who will know exactly what I mean just as I’m equally sure that non-writers will shake their heads in disbelief or despair that anyone could be so fanciful. But it’s being fanciful that gets books written and on the shelves for readers to enjoy, or not, as the case may be.

Emmaline bugged me for weeks. I first gave her a Lara Croft type role. Anyone not familiar with that name might be more familiar with the Tomb Raider video game series that morphed into the 1993 movie starring Angelina Jolie. A remake featuring Alicia Vikander is currently playing. That role wasn’t quite right for Emmaline nor were any of the more contemporary settings I tried putting her in. A western romance didn’t work at all as she didn’t like the clothes. Once I knew that clothes had to be right for her, I started dressing her in different costumes. Maybe she was a Regency belle all along because as soon as I dressed her in a muslin gown, spencer jacket, and wide-brimmed bonnet everything fell into place and the words just flowed.

They weren’t necessarily good words, but first drafts rarely are. The purpose of a first draft is to get the story out of the author’s head and into a working document. Making it pretty and interesting comes with rewrites and revisions, help from critique partners and beta readers and a whole village of people. Here is an excerpt from His Dark Enchantress. I hope you enjoy it.

***

With Emmaline gone to the village, Lucius took a gun and two of his spaniels and set out across the park for a far covert where he hoped to flush out a brace of pheasant. 

The September afternoon basked under a clear blue sky. The gentlest of breezes occasionally buffeted his face and ruffled his hair, and all was as perfect as it could be. He traipsed through the fields, clambered over walls and fences that he would be jumping over once the hunting season started, got his feet wet in the trout stream that ran close to the southern boundary of the Park and the Beamish estate, and returned home well satisfied. 

He cut through the stable yard after leaving the dogs in the kennels and noticed the carriage house door ajar. Curious, he pulled it open. 

The place where the gig should have been was still empty. 

Puzzled, he closed the door and checked Sadie’s stable. It was also empty. He looked up at the stable yard clock. It was gone five. 

Panic gripped his heart, almost stilled his breathing. 

He charged up the stairs to the grooms’ quarters, two at a time bellowing for Noble who met him at the door. 

“What time did her ladyship leave, Noble, and who accompanied her?” he barked. 

“She left a little after noon, my Lord, and insisted she drive herself.” 

“Did she indeed?” Lucius seethed inwardly but paused for a moment, holding his temper. “And you let her go alone? Where were your wits? Saddle a hunter, Noble, I’ll go to Nettleford across country.” 

As soon as the horse was ready, Lucius set off at a steady gallop across the park, scattering the herds of fallow deer and sheep that grazed there. 

Damn her. The pig was one thing, but driving off without a groom? Who did she think she was to drive herself unaccompanied? And how could Noble have been so foolish as to let her go alone? 

He steadied the horse for a post and rail fence, soared over it and picked up the pace across the next field. A gate and two hedges later he was pounding along the road into the village where he pulled up abruptly and dismounted outside the inn. 

“Jackson.” he roared as he pushed into the taproom. 

The landlord had already heard him and sent a boy to take the horse and now met him in the corridor. 

“What’s amiss Milord?” 

“Have you seen her Ladyship?” Lucius demanded. 

“Put the gig up here while she did some visiting, left about mid-afternoon.” 

“Then where the devil is she?” Fear replaced the panic in Lucius’ heart and he cursed himself for not having asked the whereabouts of those she planned to visit. 

***

www.victoriachatham.com

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