A Night Out with Pure Passion

What a treat to put that subject in my mail!

I attended the Pure Passion presentation last night and I took my daughter as my guest.
First I have to thank Rosemary for the invitation. What a lovely night it was!
We arrived by train from Warrington and, as always, I entered Manchester Town Hall with a fair bit of awe. The Town Hall was built in the era when Manchester was the wealthiest city in the world, sometimes called Cottonopolis because it was the centre of the cotton industry. The Town Hall was built in the high Victorian Gothic style, embellished inside with murals, vaulted ceilings and grand staircases. It really is a wonderful sight. If you ever go to Manchester, the Town Hall and the Exchange are the two buildings that really express the grandeur and wealth of the time.
http://www.manchester2002-uk.com/buildings/town%20Hall.html
Gathered in the Conference Room were writers, editors, librarians and readers. What better combination of people could there be?
The presentation went very well, helped along by witty speeches by Jenny Haddon, Catherine King and special guest Jan Etherington, TV scriptwriter and all-round good egg. Fashion notes I'll leave to someone else, except to say that my daughter looked her usual astonishing self.
A very enjoyable celebration of romantic fiction, and a fitting tribute to the genre. I'm looking forward to the exhibition in June at the Manchester Central Library, another tribute to the breathtaking confidence of the Victorian occupants of the city.

Revisionism

Recently, I've been rewriting books I wrote before and a few things occurred to me. "Sunfire" is heavily rewritten, for example, but that was for a new publisher (Ellora's Cave) who had different requirements to the book's first publisher. I really thought the book was improved by the rewrite. But there wasn't much time before the original and the rewrite.
I'm currently going through edits for "Devonshire," the second book I had published and I'm finding myself less inclined to make any big changes.
Why? Because I wrote it long enough ago for me to have been a different writer then. I did things in that book I wouldn't do today, but that doesn't necessarily mean I'm better now - just different. I know what I was trying for when I wrote it, and it isn't always what I go for today. My concerns have changed, my writing style has changed.
And I revised "The Chemistry of Evil" ready to present it to publishers. I was happy to revise that because it is part of a series (Dept 57) that I'm still writing today. It gives me a chance to check the continuity. But I deliberately held back on heavy rewriting. I added a scene that I thought improved the story, but it's only a little one, and kept other things I wasn't entirely sure about, but I was then.
So where does revisionism stop and improving start?

The RNA's best male celebrities

In a fun poll earlier this year, I voted for my favourite male celebrities, along with most of the other members of the RNA (Romantic Novelists' Association). So here are the results. What do you think about our choices?

The top ten male celebrities voted the Perfect Romantic Hero were:

1. Johnny Depp

2. Daniel Craig

3. Sean Bean

4. Richard Armitage

5. Hugh Jackman

6. Colin Firth

7. Alan Rickman

8. Pierce Brosnan

9. George Clooney

10. David Tennant


A second poll, taken by members of the RNA bravely admitting to being ‘over a certain age’, voted for male celebrities over fifty who’ve ‘still got it’. Remarkable for his appearance on both polls, Pierce Brosnan took the crownfor the over fifties by a huge margin.


The top ten Over-Fifty Perfect Romantic Heroes were:

1. Pierce Brosnan

2. Harrison Ford

3. Ranulph Fiennes

4. Bill Nighy

5. Liam Neeson

6. Sam Neill

7. Sean Connery

8. Peter O’Toole

9. Clint Eastwood

10. Omar Sharif

Met By Chance

A new book out in time for Valentine's Day!

There’s more to this man than satin and lace.

After a serious riding accident, Perdita Garland is back in society. Unfortunately the first man who catches her interest, Charles Dalton, Marquis of Petherbridge, turns out to be a popinjay with a spoiled daughter in tow. And his equally spoiled sister is flirting with the same fortune-hunting suitor who almost cost Perdita her life. What’s a lady to do? Warn the marquis of the danger, of course.

Charles knows that English society finds his manners and dress astonishing, but they cover a man broken by a disastrous marriage to a faithless wife. Now a widowed father determined not to be fooled again, he is nevertheless charmed by Perdita and the steely strength of will under her fragile exterior. If only the lady would mind her own business.

But when his impulsive sister elopes and kidnaps his daughter, he finds himself wishing he had listened to the little busybody. And Perdita, feeling partly responsible for the disaster, boldly sets out to help him put things right.

Alone in a strange city with his lordship, plunged into danger, Perdita discovers there is more than meets the eye under the pampered skin of the marquis. There is strength, power…and passion beyond her wildest dreams.

Met By Chance, from Samhain Publishing
There's more to this man than satin and lace!
Order Page: http://samhainpublishing.com/romance/met-by-chance
ISBN:1-59998-892-5

A sharp exclamation, swiftly bitten off before the profanity entirely escaped his lips made her pay complete attention to the man by her side. “Good God, what is she doing here?” he cried, in a completely different tone of voice.

If she was less surprised, Perdita might have admired his skill in bringing his horses to a swift halt, and even more by his athletic leap from the vehicle, while his tiger scrambled to take the reins and climb up beside her. He started in the direction of the trees, a discreet gathering of oaks and sycamores, intended, she assumed, for added privacy, if needed. A flash of yellow drew her attention to a parasol wielded by a lady with her back to them, her hand resting on the arm of a man Perdita knew and had long wished she didn’t.

Berrington.

Charles was halfway to the trees before he realised just how improper his behaviour was. He didn’t stop walking, since the deed was done, but he owed Lady Perdita a deep apology for his behaviour. The trouble was, once he saw Millicent heading for the undergrowth he knew precisely what would happen next.

Exactly what happened last time. Only this time the result might not be as favourable as the last. His sister was an accomplished flirt, and didn’t know where to draw the line. The last time it had taken a fortune to quiet the budding scandal. Kissing a man in the corridor at the Opera they had, not unnaturally, been seen. She was at it again, and Charles intended to save himself considerable expenditure by finishing it now.

They were some way ahead, Millicent and the unknown man, and Charles hadn’t caught up with them by the time they disappeared between the trees. Only a flick of blue from Millicent’s gown betrayed their progression to the rear of the copse, where it was darkest. Charles quickened his stride, until he heard something behind him and turned to see the cause of it.

Damn! Lady Perdita was determinedly following. Why couldn’t she have waited in the phaeton? He would have to take her into his confidence now. Charles frowned when he saw her stumble on the rough ground. He had no choice. He waited for her.

Her breath came in short gasps, and it was only then he recollected her accident, the one that had broken both her legs. His agitation had driven the memory momentarily out of his mind. Lady Perdita had only been ambulant for a year, and still felt the effects of such severe injury. He’d felt as much last night, when he’d danced with her. He cursed his carelessness that made him forget.

She stared at him, getting her breath back. “Don’t stop! Go after them!”

Astonished, Charles held his arm out for her. “Come. We’ll go after them together. How did you know?”

She shot him a frowning look. “What else could it be but an impending scandal? Who is she?”

“My sister Millicent.” The hand on his sleeve tightened, but she did not use him as support, instead using it to help her quicken her stride.

They reached the trees. “Where are they?” he wondered. In the time he’d taken his attention from his sister to attend to Lady Perdita, Millicent had disappeared.

“Shh!”

All he could hear was her laboured breathing, slowly settling.

Then he heard a giggle, some way distant. “There!” He set off as quickly as he could, considering he had to consider someone else. He didn’t have to tow her, although his pace was probably too quick for her.

The trees here, past the sycamores, were old elms, interspersed with newer saplings, an artificial construct. Not being familiar with Hyde Park, he wasn’t sure where they led. Although reading his mind she said, “This comes out by the Serpentine. There will be people there.”

He let out the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. “She’s a flirt,” he said, lightly, “but too young to have complete control of herself. I returned from France to find her deep in trouble, and having extricated her from that, I have no desire to see her do it again.”

“She could empty your coffers.”

So she realised just how he’d extricated Millicent last time. He glanced at Lady Perdita’s face, and saw total understanding there. He hoped he saw discretion, too. His irritation with his sister grew. He had been enjoying his drive, and enjoying her company. Millicent had ruined it. He dismissed his twinge of regret and plunged on, determined to do his duty.

Lady Perdita kept up, gamely refusing to lean on his arm, but determinedly keeping pace with him. When he glanced at her, he saw her lips tightly compressed, a sure sign of strain. He prayed the swift walk would do her legs no damage and fervently wished she’d remained behind.

They came out of the trees suddenly, a small copse, but artfully designed. People strolled this side of the bank of trees, enjoying the fine day and the view of the small river winding through the park. The sunlight blinded him and he blinked while his eyes adjusted to the altered circumstances. Then he spied his sister and the unknown man. She stopped walking, and faced her suitor, ready for his kiss.

Charles watched, aghast, as Millicent moved closer to her swain. How much this time? Two thousand? Three? More?

Then another couple moved out of the trees, heading for the Serpentine. Charles recognised them at once. The Earl and Countess of Ilford. Incorruptible leaders of society. If they saw this little scene, the game would be up, and his sister married to a man who was likely a fortune hunter, prepared to milk Charles and his family of everything he could get, and more importantly, make Millicent’s life a misery.

He felt a tug on his sleeve, and he turned, but without taking his attention from the awful scene being enacted before him. When he finally looked at Lady Perdita, the entreaty in her eyes startled him. Her hand curled behind his neck, and he bent towards her, rather than resist. Then he realised what she was about.

A distraction. Perfect.

Their lips met. Feeling hers part under his, Charles succumbed to the urges never far under the skin since he’d met her last night and clasped her closer, so she couldn’t get away even if she wanted to. Her mouth hot under his, he pushed her lips further apart with his own, so he could enter her with his tongue.

Exquisite hot, damp, warmth. Something he hadn’t felt for five years. The welcoming, feminine form moved closer, and his hands tightened on the warm silk of her gown, giving himself up to the kiss, forgetting everything but their startlingly intimate embrace.

When she gasped, he pushed his tongue between her lips in exploration, found the firm, sweet roof of her mouth and stroked it, as though caressing her bare skin with his hands. She was open to him, unknowingly offering all she could give, and if it weren’t for the time and the place he would be tempted to take it.

His own thoughts reminded him of the time and place. Allowing courtesy to dictate his actions, he slackened his grip, removed his tongue from her inviting mouth and finished the kiss with a quiet, closed mouth caress.

Charles allowed himself a moment to gaze at her, so close, her wondrous blue eyes as dazed as he knew his own must be. Then, brought back to the immediacy of the situation, he drew back and looked around him.

Munich

Today is the 50th anniversary of the Munich Air Disaster.
I'm a Manchester United fan, so I'm remembering today and raising a glass to the boys who died that day. And they were boys.
In case you don't know what I'm talking about, Manchester United is one of the best football teams in the world. And the richest in the UK. On this day in 1958, the United team of the day was the best in the country, packed with young hopefuls and on its way to winning the European Cup. The manager was Matt Busby and the team was called "The Busby Babes."
Until Munich.
On its way home, the plane didn't lift off, but crashed at the end of the runway. There were 44 passengers on board, and 23 died. Including 8 players. The manager was in intensive care for a while.
Ten years later, Manchester United won the European Cup under Sir Matt's managership but nobody has ever forgotten Munich.
So spare a minute tonight to remember them.

MET BY CHANCE - Out today!

The third book in the Triple Countess series.
Set in the glamorous age of Georgian England, Met By Chance is Perdita's story, the sister of Orlando, featured in A Chance To Dream.
For brand-new excerpts and buying, go here:
http://samhainpublishing.com/romance/met-by-chance

Now read on:
There’s more to this man than satin and lace.
After a serious riding accident, Perdita Garland is back in society. Unfortunately the first man who catches her interest, Charles Dalton, Marquis of Petherbridge, turns out to be a popinjay with a spoiled daughter in tow. And his equally spoiled sister is flirting with the same fortune-hunting suitor who almost cost Perdita her life. What’s a lady to do? Warn the
marquis of the danger, of course.
Charles knows that English society finds his manners and dress astonishing, but they cover a man broken by a disastrous marriage to a faithless wife. Now a widowed father determined not to be fooled again, he is nevertheless charmed by Perdita and the steely strength of will under her fragile exterior. If only the lady would mind her own business. But when his impulsive sister elopes and kidnaps his daughter, he finds himself wishing he had listened to the little busybody. And Perdita, feeling partly responsible for the disaster, boldly sets out to help him put things right.
Alone in a strange city with his lordship, plunged into danger, Perdita discovers there is more than meets the eye under th pampered skin of the marquis. There is strength, power…and passion beyond her wildest dreams.

Met By Chance, from Samhain Publishing
There's more to this man than satin and lace!
Order Page: http://samhainpublishing.com/romance/met-by-chance
ISBN:1-59998-892-5

I hope you like! And get a shufti at that beautiful cover!

Resolutions

So much for daily blogging! I tried, I really did. But so many things happen and all at once I don't really believe January is actually over!
I have a new release tomorrow, which I'll blog about then, and January was a blast, with the release of "Sunfire." I absolutely loved writing that book and the reviews that have come in have blown me away. They like it. So I'm safe to keep writing for now!

Accuracy

I was pointed to an excellent post on historical accuracy in romances:
http://speakitsname.wordpress.com/2007/10/03/malibu-historical-barbie/
Go read. It's good.

Sales!

To celebrate the release of Sunfire, I went and did the tail-end of the sales yesterday.
I love the tail-end. When the sales first start, you go out and get the things you really want, or the things that are in short supply. Then, towards the end of the sales, one last trawl for those hidden gems, the piles of things that have been overlooked. I got some bandanas for 50p, silk ones, a great bargain, and now I've decided to keep my hair long for the time being, I need more hair stuff. And a skirt from Monsoon. I can rarely resist Monsoon so I have a new skirt to add to the beautiful new handbag I bought at the start of the sales. I've been stroking that bag for weeks. It's velvet, you see, very strokable!
Or is it just me and my inveterate bargain-hunting self? Perhaps nobody else likes them. Debenhams was packed with stuff, mostly clothes, so there is some indication of overbuying, or maybe they just didn't buy what people wanted. Oops. I had an interview for fashion buyer there many moons ago, but I didn't like the unwieldy corporate structure, so I went into advertising and marketing instead, which was huge fun but I always wondered what I'd missed!
I might just go back for that John Rocha skirt.......

Sunfire is out today!

Sunfire is out today!
I am really thrilled that this book is getting a new lease of life, and the others in the series will be released for the first time.
Rock musicians and shapeshifters, yum!
You can read an excerpt on my website, here;
www.lynneconnolly.com/sunfire.htm

and you can buy the book here:
http://Sunfire.notlong.com

Rock meets classical. Paranormal meets mortal. Will anybody get out
alive? The members of rock band Pure Wildfire are firebird
shape-shifters. Manager John Westfall will sacrifice anything for the
power they wield, even his daughter Corinne.

Corinne attracts Aidan in a way he's never known before. He'll do
anything to release her from Westfall's trap. He offers her marriage,
but Aidan wants more from Corinne — he wants her heart. And he'll give
her his in return.

Classical guitarist Corinne is desperate to escape her father's
control. She loves Aidan but craves her freedom — can she trust him to
give it to her? Can she trust the wild man of rock with her heart?
There's only one way to find out. Dive into the wildfire!

And here's a snippet to tempt you!
Aidan’s way out of the manor led past the rehearsal room, he made sure
of it. Maybe Corinne might still be there. Maybe he’d have another
chance with her.

The waves of grief hit him like a wall of icy water on his way past. He
couldn’t ignore such anguish, so he turned the knob and went in.

The door opened silently, like the door to Westfall’s office, gliding
on well-oiled hinges. She stood with her back to the door, head bowed,
shoulders shaking in quiet pain. Her sobs filled the room with sorrow.

At first, Aidan wasn’t sure which sister wept so heartbrokenly, but the
white clothes and the feel of the atmosphere soon told him. Guessing
her wish for privacy, he closed the door quietly before he walked
forward and placed his hands on Corinne’s shoulders to tell her she was
no longer alone.

“What is it? Is there anything I can do? Who made you cry like this?”

Her shoulders froze, tensing under his touch. She drew a deep breath
and her hand went up to wipe away the tears. Only then did she turn.

Her eyes, made even darker by her tears, gazed steadily into his. Her
cheeks were still wet but she’d composed her face before she turned to
him. She looked ethereally beautiful and heartbreakingly lovely. Aidan
caught his breath in wonder.

“You,” she said. “You made me cry.”

Let me know what you think!

The plagiarism debate

Except it's not a debate any more.
A best selling author of 100 books, Cassie Edwards, has been accused of lifting material from other books without acknowledging them.
http://www.smartbitchestrashybooks.com/index.php/weblog/cassie_edwards_extravaganza/
It's now become so bad that people are asking if there is a book where she didn't copy.
I've heard some authors saying that "we" should stick together to support the romance community. To my mind, there is no "we" in this case. Copying someone else's material and claiming it as your own is wrong. Whoever, whatever. The whole thing makes me very sad, but just because one person is doing this, doesn't mean it's okay to do it or that everyone who ever writes a book is the same as the next person who writes a book. If there's anything I've learned about writers, it's that there are no generalisations, the only common factor being the writing. Every writer has her own technique, every writer has his methods.
But this isn't a writing technique. It's a patchwork way of constructing a saleable product. Until somebody finds out. And they have found out.

Read me! Read me!

I've been thinking about promotion lately. I freely admit I'm not all that good at it. I can't do the "I am better than X, read me" post, or the "I am great, look at this!" one either.
I write what I love to write and I'm continually astonished that industry professionals and readers enjoy what I write, too. They even take me seriously.
Not to say that I don't, because I work very hard at it. But I didn't know I could do it. Then I read a book of mine that I've let "rest," before I edit it and think, "That's not half bad." And when I get a severe round of edits, it's almost a relief because I knew something was wrong and I couldn't quite work it out.
Which brings us back to promotion. Brits are notoriously bad at trumpeting their own worth, and I seem, in this regard at least, to be typically British. I cannot stand up and say I'm better than all the others, I can't even admit I'm a published writer sometimes. I still blush.
Daft? Yes, maybe. But a lot of writers do it because they feel they're socially inept, that they don't fit in, in a strange kind of way and perhaps they're used to it by the time they achieve any kind of success. Used to people thinking they're a bit odd, used to the pitying looks when they talk about their work.
After that, promotion can be a bit tricky. But I've found a way, one that works for me and doesn't leave me looking either obnoxiously pushy or stupidly self-effacing. Just about.
Of course, what I dream about, what every author dreams about, is being told that she is great, having people talk about their books and how much they enjoy them. Some achieve it, some naturally, most with a bit of artful promotion, the kind I don't seem to be able to do, or afford. Which is a bit strange because I did a stint in marketing and for the most part enjoyed it very much. But when it comes to my own wares, I'm not so brilliant.
Am I complaining? Not really, just indulging in a bit of wishful thinking.

Sucking

I'm definitely having an "I suck" day. Every now and then I get these, and I'm told others have them too. Days when you think that everything you do is doomed to failure, when you read what you've just done and you're convinced it doesn't work. It usually comes along with a rejection, but today, it's probably post-Christmas gloom.
It helps when others admit to feeling the same way but I've learned that you just have to wait it out.
Or is it just me? Or do I really suck?

Happy New Year!

I do hope you all saw the new year in the way you wanted to. So we're in 2008. And I have to take stock because that's what people do at this time of year.
New publishers, a new venture I can't really talk about yet and a new series to start writing. Recently people have commented on how busy I am, how hard I write, but really, it's just that I find it hard to do anything else. I never imagined it would be possible that anyone else would enjoy my work, but they do. And I never imagined I would make new friends through my writing, but I have.
Still gobsmacked, though keeping on!

Back to normal?

Not quite back to normal. But getting there! The WIP is coming on nicely, though of course the real test will be when I send it out. I can't not write, or I get edgy. But with the whole family around it's hard to find time to do some decent writing.
I'm branching out into contemporaries. No paranormal involved, and I have the concept for a new series that I'm going to start in the new year.
I can't wait, but I do have to finalise a few things. Like the last Pure Wildfire book, and the last Triple Countess book, and the next Dept 57.

Happy Holidays!

I do hope everyone has a happy and peaceful time this year, and a really good 2008.
I've had a torrid time recently, writing-wise. Edits, and a new contract with Loose Id for the next Department 57 book, "Topaz Delirium." I sent "Moonfire" in to my editor at Ellora's Cave, and I'm writing "Thunderfire," as well as an exciting new venture I can't even think about yet.
I can't believe this year is nearly over, but I'll do a roundup nearer to the end of the year. Torrid is a pretty good description!

Romance?

I came to a big decision recently. Well, for me, anyway.
I've been reading some great books, but although they're called 'romances' the romance is a bit, well, distant. Or it's based on lust, and by the end of the story I'm not entirely convinced these two were made for each other. They just fancy each other like mad, but they don't really know each other. And then there are the 'fated mates' stories where biology dictates that they get together and their desire is overwhelming. So in theory, they could hate each other's guts and still go on bonking their little hears out.
So, I'm putting the romance back. Or, trying to. I pledge that the couples (or threesomes occasionally) are going to fall in love. They will go through the process. True, in the case of my paranormal beings, they might be a bit faster, because they can read each other's minds, but they will fall in love. No 'fated mates,' no lust instead of love (although they will probably lust the hell out of each other because that's part of falling), no adventure that overwhelms the romance, although you know me, there will still be adventure!
2008 will be, for me, the return of the romance.

How do you keep it going when times are tough?

It's a question I've been thinking about for the last few days. The Triskelion closure hit me harder than I wanted to admit, even to myself. I kept going, delighted when other publishers took my work, but looking back at what I wrote in this time, the strain shows, it really does.
I wrote two books I'm not happy with and I'm currently in the process of rewriting heavily, to the point of making them new. They just weren't up to what I usually write, and I don't understand why I couldn't see it at the time, except that I didn't. I presume it was all the fuss when Triskelion went into bankruptcy, because the rest of my life is as it always was. Stress is a funny thing and sometimes you think you're coping when you're not, but now, I think it's getting better because I can feel it in myself. I'm very tired, still, but that comes with insomnia, but I'm beginning to sleep for more than 3 hours at a time. And being British, I hate complaining. A national trait, or it used to be and as a nation we're still not brilliant at complaining.

Life! Don't talk to me about life!

I love Douglas Adams' books!
This one has stayed with me for a long time. It's what my DH says a lot when he's just tired or doesn't want to go into details.
Sometimes I feel like that. At times in the recent Triskelion bankruptcy mess I've thought "I might as well just abandon those books" but there were twelve books, all of which I lived and wrote and loved, so I just couldn't.
Now, thanks to Siren Publishing, those books are free. Some of them I got back in June from a release letter but the owner of Triskelion asked me to leave the others to "tide them over a bad time" after Gail Northman left. I did.
So what has the whole experience taught me?
That there are a few people who can't see further than their own houses and their own concerns, that all their insistence of fair play and transparent dealing were about as fair and transparent as loaded dice. That there are other people who are truly honest and open. And that I find it very hard to see the difference.
Will that make me behave any differently? No. I won't assume that everybody I meet in the publishing business is after Number One and nobody else, or that they're out to fool me. That way lies madness and a way of life I really don't want to contemplate. I'll consider to write the best books I can and to offer them to publishers I think I can work with. I won't hold anything back, and I won't say anything I don't mean. If they want to trick me and fool me, that's their problem, not mine.
I write because I love it. There is no way I could write anything I didn't enjoy doing because of all the work involved. When I find someone who feels the same, or someone who feels they can work with me to present the work as a saleable commodity, I'll work as hard as I can to make it a goer. If they don't, I'm still going to write.
Oh yes, and that good can come out of bad. My reputation as a writer increased, I met some people I respect and like very much, and I'm in a different place now than I was when I went into the Triskelion venture.
So thanks for all the fish (another Adams quote!) but I ain't ready to go just yet.

Finished!

I finished Moonfire over the weekend, helped by a wonderful beta reader and friend. She saw straight to my problem, whereas I'd been reading it over and over again and knowing there was something not right and not knowing what it was.
Frustrating.
Beta readers are wonderful, they go through the book and immediately say - hey, you didn't explain why... or you forgot this bit....
So it's off to my editor now and on with the next book!