So, You want to write a book? ~ by Rita Karnopp

So, You want to write a book?

So, you want to write a book … and you’re wondering if you should read all the ‘How To’ books out there before starting.  What about books on pacing, characters, grammar, setting the scene, mapping out the story, creating a beginning, middle, and an end . . . and it goes on and on and on and . . .

Yep, if you decide before you write word one – you are going to do nothing but research – then you’ll never write a sentence.  I call it procrastination.  Of course, this is my opinion.  I firmly believe we learn to write – by writing. 

When it comes to creative writing - I know there are authors who won’t agree with me.  They’ll ask; “Why reinvent the wheel?”  Don’t get me wrong, reading ‘how-to write’ books is a great way to learn – but it shouldn’t overshadow real writing. 

I believe if you start writing you develop a natural flow – your style – and no stack of books can teach you that.  Don’t taint your creative writing by trying to follow the steps of an established author.  That is her/his style – not yours.

Don’t get me wrong, a beginning writer will find invaluable writing skills in the ‘how-to’ books out on the market. These books can improve your technical abilities and improve your writing skills. Just remember they are training tools – and you must take your own creative license to make a story yours – writing in your ‘voice.’ 

You accomplish this by writing – writing – and writing.  Writing is 80% revisions – and that’s how you learn.  You’ll never type a book from start to finish without revising and even re-writing.  Each time you’ll learn something new … something that will polish the new story … something that you hadn’t mastered when writing before.

I must add, it’s wise listen to advice and comments from editors, agents, publishers, and established authors.  You can learn so much from them if you respond to criticism with an open mind.  Never take it personal.  If you feel the suggestion is an improvement … go for it.  If not … you have the right to ignore it.

When I first wrote my first book, Whispering Sun, my heroine was deaf the entire novel.  An agent loved the story – but said, “You realize this book would be so much better if you could figure out a way to have the heroine get her hearing back early in the book.”  OMG!!  All I could think about is, I will have to rewrite the whole book.  I didn’t want to do that.  But, after thinking about it long and hard – and even if I truly didn’t want to – I rewrote the entire book.  Best decision I ever made.  The story is 95% better!  It’s still my best seller year-after-year - even though I’ve written 19 books! 

Best writing advice I was ever given – and I want to share it with you;  “You’re only as good as your next book.”

Sophie's Scoundrel by A.M. Westerling

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Sophie's Scoundrel

A Regency short story by A.M.Westerling

Sophie slid off her mare and looped the reins over a convenient shrub. 

Giving the horse a quick pat on the nose, she turned and began the familiar trip down the little path that meandered through the dunes to end up at the gravel and shell beach just on the edge of her family’s estate. When she neared the edge of the sea, she held out her arms and tilted her face to the sun before stripping off her bonnet. She tossed it in the air where the breeze caught it and whirled it about ribbons and all before it landed in a frivolous clump on the beach.

            She sat down and removed her riding boots and stockings and wriggled her toes with sheer delight. Then she unpinned her hair and gave her a head a shake so the chestnut curls spilled over her shoulders and down her back.

            “Aaahhh.” She sighed with pleasure. “I have missed this so.” Feeling a little foolish for talking to herself, she glanced around to be sure that she hadn’t been heard. It would not do to have the locals gossip that Lord Harrington’s eldest daughter was daft! 

Sophie gathered up the skirts of her velvet riding habit and crunched across the beach to the water’s edge, dabbling first one big toe then the other in the chilly waves. The gravel pricked against the soles of her feet, delightful in its intensity and for the first time in weeks she felt alive, well and truly alive. Not that she hadn’t enjoyed her stay at boarding school but it had been restrictive, to say the least.

She mimicked the head mistress. “Sophie, you must pour this way, Sophie, you must set a stitch that way, Sophie, mind that your voice is never raised.” Mama would be scandalized if she saw Sophie now, poking fun at Miss Smythe and standing bare foot in the sea.

“Your mama would be scandalized.”  A masculine voice interrupted her, echoing her thoughts perfectly.

She spun around, dropping her skirts into the water. Rueful, she glanced down for it was sure to leave a stain. Then she raised her gaze to the stranger before her. And raising her gaze it was for he stood at least a head taller than her. Her breath caught in her throat.

He was handsome, to say the least – tall, dark and lean with a rapacious air about him as if he would pounce on his prey at any moment. Judging by his burnished cheeks, tousled hair and the crop dangling from one wrist, he had also been out riding.

Sophie realized she must look a fool standing there dumbfounded and ankle deep in water. For once in her life she was completely nonplussed.

“You, you …”, she stammered, managing to wobble her way back on to the beach without incurring further damage to her frock.

“Yes?” Amusement tinged the stranger’s voice.

Bravado was her best option so she squared her shoulders and jutted her chin. “I meant to say you’re trespassing.”

“I think not.” He pointed to a marker just off to one side. “I believe that is the edge of my property. Indeed, you are the one who is trespassing, Miss…?”  The question dangled between them. When she didn’t answer, he swept forward in an elegant bow. “Allow me to present myself. I am Lord Bryce Langdon. And you?” Again he waited for a response and again she declined to answer.

            Oh dear, she knew very well who Lord Langdon was. He’d just acquired the adjacent land. In fact, they were all to meet him this evening for the first time.  However, if word ever got out that she’d met him in this situation, her reputation would be ruined. Anger at herself for the foolishness that had brought her here unchaperoned made her tongue sharp.

“You, sir, are an ill-mannered boor.” She spat the words at him. “Only an ill-mannered boor would compromise a young lady as you have just done to me.”

“I must beg pardon then for I had not recognized you as such.” He pointed to the ten toes peeping out from beneath the hem of her skirt. “I dare say your behaviour is sadly lacking.”
            “You, you scoundrel, how dare you insult me so,” she fumed.  “You, you -.” Her mind went blank, sucked bare by the devastatingly handsome man before her.

 “Wretch?”  He suggested, the corners of his mouth beginning to lift.

Sophie stared at him for a few seconds, watching the devilish grin threatening to take over his entire face. Her lips twitched and she scowled in a vain attempt to maintain her decorum. It didn’t work. 

Giggles burbled up and burst free and she began to laugh. He joined her, the sounds of their laughter mingling with the cries of the sea gulls circling above.  Bryce Langdon must be an astute judge of character for he was entirely correct in his assessment of her. She detested the rules and strictures of the upper class and it was that rebellious quality that had landed her in boarding school in the first place. There was no point in denying it.

“No, you’re absolutely right. I’m not behaving like a lady. That is,” she hastened to correct herself, squeezing out the words between giggles, “in the sense I do not enjoy sewing and such. Much to the dismay of my mother and sisters, I prefer to be outdoors.”

“And I am no drawing room fop. So I see we shall get along famously.  You have yet to introduce yourself?”

She curtsied. “Lady Sophie Harrington. We are to meet this evening for dinner at Harrington House.” A wry expression twisted her face.  “Please don’t mention to anyone that you saw me here today.”

Bryce took her hand and raised it to his lips. “Rest assured, I shall tell no one. Tonight when we meet, it will be as if for the first time.” His dark eyes were admiring and warm with promise as he kissed her hand again before dropping it. “I look forward to seeing you again, Lady Harrington.” He said her name carefully, rolling out the syllables as if he savored the cadence. He saluted her with his crop then turned on his heel.

Sophie watched him walk away, scuffing his polished black boots along the beach until he disappeared from view.

A secret smile curved her lips. Perhaps, she thought to herself, not everyone thinks I must conform to society’s rules. Perhaps I can be loved just the way I am. With a light heart she gathered her boots, stockings and bonnet and made her way back up the little path.

A Walking Tour of My Next Novel

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Ever since I decided to set the sequel to my debut novel, Kelegeen, in Worcester, Massachusetts, I’ve been seeing the city in a new way. I grew up and still live in a town that abuts Worcester and work a full-time job located in downtown Worcester. I’ve spent countless hours in the city of Worcester. I even rented a house there many years ago. Naturally, I thought I knew Worcester. I know how to get to a lot of places in the city and even when lost, I’ve been able to use landmarks I can see in the distance to figure out in which direction I should head. Of course, now that I have GPS, I don’t need to do that, but sometimes I do just to know I still can.

Recently, I discovered Crown Hill, a hidden jewel in a section of Worcester I never knew existed. My friend and fellow writing group member, Cindy Shenette, is a docent for Preservation Worcester. While discussing where my Irish domestic servant characters would have lived and worked, Cindy mentioned Crown Hill.  This, she said, is where Worcester’s middle class resided. They were the folks who could have afforded to hire one, possibly two, domestic servants. Perfect! Luckily for me, Cindy conducts walking tours of the Crown Hill area and offered to take me on a private tour. Naturally, I jumped at the chance.

On a lovely morning in late June, Cindy picked me up and off we went. The tour began outside a house a on the corner of Pleasant and Oxford streets. It was built in 1844 by Asa Walker, a merchant tailor who owned a store on Marion Street. Asa lived there with his wife, Lucy.  Made of brick, the house is unusual for the area since most were made of wood.

Greek Revival home of Asa and Lucy Walker built in 1844

Across from the side of this house stands a brick building that is now Rob Roy Academy Hair and Beauty School, but in the time of my story was the Pleasant Street Primary School. Could this be where the children of Meg's and Kathleen's employers were educated?

Originally the Pleasant Street Primary School - Now the Rob Roy Academy Hair and Beauty School

As the tour continued along Oxford Street, Crown Street, Congress Street and the sections of Pleasant Street and Chatham Street that pass through the Crown Hill area, we saw a plethora of homes that would have stood at the time of the setting of my novel. Most were Greek Revival along with a few Italianate and Second Empire houses.

Greek Revival House

Elijah and Mercy Brooks House - Served as a parsonage for a nearby Quaker Meeting House

Two views of an Italianate house

As we strolled along, the morning grew warmer and we were grateful for the tree lined sidewalks. We stopped to note the few remaining gas streetlamps (still in use!) and hitching posts for horses (not still in use).

Gas streetl lamp - still in use

Since Crown Hill is a designated historic district there are strict rules governing what residents are and are not allowed to do with the outside of their houses. Though now, many of the Greek Revival houses are painted in various colors, in the mid-1800s they would all have been an off-white, making the street resemble a row of ancient Greek temples. As Cindy noted, if all the vehicles were removed, the paved roads replaced with dirt, and the houses all painted the same color, it would look pretty much the same as it did back then.  It didn’t take much imagination to picture myself as one of my characters walking down these very streets. What an amazing feeling to enter into the world of my characters!

Tour guide and fellow writer, Cindy Shenette

Author, Eileen O'Finlan taking notes while happily walking the same streets as her characters