A Story is Born

I am often asked where my stories come from. My response: everywhere.

The Promise of Change is the result of a trip to Christ Church College, Oxford University in Oxford, England. I spent three summers taking a course as part of Oxford University’s Adult Education Program. A way cool experience! You can read more about my experiences here.

A trip I took to Costa Rica with my husband inspired Rescuing Lacey. An actual experience on a small plane while in that country appears in the book and was the first chapter I wrote. The story grew in both directions from there, but first I had to ask why was my heroine there? What was at stake? And what role did the hero have in her journey?

Now, I have no idea what inspired my latest book, Dreams of Perfection, which is the first in a three-book series. Also, when I began writing Dreams of Perfection, I had no plans to write a series. For Dreams, I started thinking about what would happen if a romance writer’s hero actually came to life, a la Pygmalion, and the story took off from there. About a third of the way into the book, I realized two secondary characters, Laura and Millie, each deserved their own stories, and the Dreams Come True series was born. Laura’s story, Ship of Dreams, is available on Amazon. The "first meet" scene from Ship of Dreams actually happened to me. When the inspiring incident occurred, I hadn’t yet started Ship of Dreams. I had the characters, and I had the premise, but I didn’t know how the story would start or how my characters would meet. Then, voila, an incident with my shoe. Perfect.

Dreams of Her Own, Book #3 in the Dreams Come True Series, features Millie's journey, and will be out Fall 2015.

Beyond the series, I have lots of ideas percolating in my brain – so many that I’m having a hard time deciding which one to write next. One in particular that I’m leaning toward was inspired by one of Sting’s old songs that I’ve always loved. Another sprang from an RWA workshop I attended way back in 2012, and yet another grew out of my, ahem, thirty-year class reunion in 2011. Then there’s the idea that came to me while riding down a two-lane road through Sonoma County, California, where my husband and I were vacationing, when I saw a dilapidated Victorian house sitting on the corner of a forgotten vineyard.

So many stories, so little time. Sigh.

In sum, my story ideas come from travel, songs, experiences, and the firmament (as in Dreams of Perfection). I can see a person standing on the corner and wonder what her story is. And since I can’t know, I invent. And another story is born!

Dreams of Perfection

Ever had one of those girlfriends who went on one date after another only to find something wrong with every guy she went out with? One of those women who’s looking for Mr. Perfect, instead of Mr. Right? Well, that’s my heroine, Darcy Butler, in Dreams of Perfection (Book #1 in the Dreams Come True Series).

See, Darcy’s a best-selling romance writer whose endless round of dates never live up to the guys she creates from her own juicy little imagination. She’s had her heart stomped on for sure, but her defense mechanism is to her standards a tad too high.

Admittedly, some of her blind dates were, well, a little creepy. Like this one, where she’s meeting a guy at a coffee shop on the recommendation of her accountant.

“Now, let me tell you about myself.” He opened his briefcase and pulled out three files, laying them carefully on the table. “I’m looking for a mate, not a date. I don’t have a lot of time to waste dating, and I understand neither do you, if you want to become pregnant before you’re too old.”

He glanced up, clearly mistaking her expression for awed speechlessness rather than horrified incredulity. He patted her hand. “Oh, don’t worry, I am not opposed to children. I have a strong sex drive, so children are inevitable, but I don’t believe in premarital sex, so marriage is mandatory and soon.”

Aghast, Darcy looked around the coffee shop, expecting her family and friends to storm the table, laughing and teasing, certain this must be a joke.

He gestured to each file in turn. “This is my resume.”

Resume? He did realize this wasn’t a job interview, right?

“These”—he pointed at portrait size photos of happy, smiling, neatly dressed children—“are my three children, Kempton the Third, Angela, and my youngest, Thornton.

Children!

“And these”—he picked up a stack of paper— “are letters of recommendation.”

Flabbergasted, and not a little intrigued, Darcy waited for him to continue. After all, she enjoyed a good joke, even if it was on her.

He placed his resume in front of her, which she noted included his salary and net worth. Seven figures—impressive. Next came a description of his home on Long Island and his country club privileges.

Darcy suppressed a giggle, still waiting for the punch line. Let everyone think they’d pulled a good one over on her.

I had so much fun writing Darcy’s story. She’s a little ditzy, a lot adorable, and I just wanted her to find the happily-ever-after (HEA) she writes about—after I finished torturing her, of course. Darcy learns many things on her journey to HEA, like not to take people for granted, and that when you love someone, you love them warts and all.

She learned some of these lessons while visiting her Aunt Rosie and her Uncle Al, who were celebrating their sixty-third wedding anniversary. I modeled Rosie and Al’s relationship after cousins of mine whose long, happy marriage I admired.

To spend time with my cousins, let’s call them Mary and Bob, was to see first-hand what two people still in love after all those years looked like. The little gestures of affection, the flirtations, the sparkle in their eyes when they looked at each other, and the deep respect they had for one another, made you hope for that very thing when you reached those same milestones in your own life. Bob never hesitated to tell you that he’d married his best friend and the love of his life.

Mary and Bob had been married sixty-three years when he passed away, and along with their daughters, they can boast four grandchildren, and fourteen great grandchildren. Quite a legacy.

As a romance author I write stories with happily-ever-after endings—modern-day fairytales. But my stories can’t compete with Mary and Bob’s. They lived the fairytale.

Darcy makes a mess of things trying to figure everything out, and it takes her aunt and uncle’s anniversary party for the light bulb to finally come on:

It suddenly occurred to Darcy that fairytales weren’t found in books. They were found in real life—everyday life, with both its triumphs and its tribulations. And her aunt lived that real-life fairytale every day, while she had been wishing for the wrong fairytale all along.

Dreams of Perfection is available on Amazon. 

Set Sail on the Ship of Dreams

While researching and designing my character’s ten-day Mediterranean cruise in my latest book, 

Ship of Dreams, I discovered cities I now long to visit. Although I have visited Florence (and other Italian cities not on the book’s itinerary), I have not been to the remainder.  But with Google earth, Wikipedia, and travel books, I was able to see and learn enough about these European cities to now feel like a tour guide. Here’s my brief guided tour of the Mediterranean ports of call.

France

First stop on the Ship of Dreams cruise is Marseille, gateway to Provence. Most tourists bypass the port city of Marseille in favor of the rolling vineyards and lavender fields in the region, but the city has a great deal to offer, including the Norte Dame de la Garde, a Catholic basilica. The basilica features stunning mosaics throughout, and a breathtaking view of the city.

Vallon des Auffes

No trip to Marseille is complete without dining on bouillabaisse, a traditional fish stew. Visit Vallon des Auffes, a small fishing village for picturesque fishing boats and renowned restaurants.

St. Tropez, the gem of the French Riviera, is the next port of call. It caters to the wealthy and fashionable with stunning boutiques, charming villas, and of course its beaches, many of which are topless or clothing optional. Visit the Quartier de la Ponche for pétanque, a game of boules, and pastis, an anise-flavored liqueur.  If you’re a fan of licorice (I shudder), you’ll like pastis.

Monaco

Monaco is a small principality ruled by the Grimaldi family and made famous by actress Grace Kelly’s marriage to Prince Rainier in 1956.  But it’s also well-known for Monte Carlo, prominently

Casino de Monte Carloe

featured in many a James Bond film.  No visit to Monte Carlo would be complete without a night of roulette or black jack in the Casino de Monte Carlo.

Italy

Italy’s first port of call is Portofino, on the Italian Riviera, with its picturesque harbor.  

Santa Margherita Ligure

Portofino offers tourists tours of the Abbazia di San Fruttuoso and Castello Brown, interesting
medieval structures.

The small resort town of Santa Margherita Ligure, about three miles from Portofino, boasts cafés, yacht-filled marinas, and fashionable hotels. The town’s older buildings still feature trompe-l’oeil frescoes typical of the Riviera. Laid back and understated, it’s a perfect escape from the glitzier areas of Portofino.

Next up in Italy, Livorno. The port of Livrono itself doesn’t offer much for tourists, but as the gateway to Pisa and Florence, it’s a popular port of call. Tourists can take a ninety-minute train trip to Florence, my favorite Italian city or a fifteen-minute train trip to Pisa. Florence is a city that deserves extra time. With so much to see, a week may not even be enough. There’s the Duomo, the 15^th century architectural wonder. Those adventurous

Duomo in Florence

enough to climb the four-hundred-plus steps to the top are rewarded with splendid views of the city and the Tuscan hills beyond.

Visit the Galleria dell’ Accademia and gawk in awe at Michelangelo’s David, or tour the Uffizi Gallery and view some of the world’s greatest Renaissance paintings. Shop on the Ponte Vecchio, the only remaining bridge with shops. Tuscany also offers gastronomic delights like panzanella (bread salad), pappa al pomodoro (soup), cacciucco (fish stew), and when truffles are in season, try them in pasta, salads, or just about anything.

Of course Pisa is famous for its leaning tower, but it also boasts it’s own duomo, both of which can be found in the Piazza dei Maricoli.

Citavecchia is next. The large port city’s better known destination is Rome. Like Florence, Rome requires more then a day to see even its most popular sites. The must-sees are endless: the Sistine Chapel, Vatican City, the Pantheon, St. Peter’s Basilica, Trevi, Fountain, the Spanish Steps, and of course the Colosseum. If you're a fan of the movie, Roman Holiday with Gregory Peck and Audrey Hepburn, stop by the Bocca del Veritá (Mouth of Truth) and test your courage.

Mouth of Truth

The final stop on the Ship of Dreams cruise takes you to Naples in the Campania region of Italy. Although there’s lots to see and do in the sprawling city, it does have a reputation for pick-pocketing and bag snatching.  While in Naples, visitors can take a seventy-five minute boat ride to the island of Capri, where Capri Town perches 450 feet above the harbor. 

Capri

Archeologists, both amateur and professional will relish tours of the ruins of Herculaneum and Pompeii, both destroyed by the massive explosion of Mt. Vesuvius in 79 A.D. Beware, Pompeii and Herculaneum cultures were quite liberal when it came to sexuality. The museums are full of erotic art uncovered during excavations of the cities.

Designing the itinerary for Ship of Dreams was a little like being my very own travel agent creating a dream vacation. Now, I just need to talk hubby into that Mediterranean cruise.

How To Speak Southern

Nathan Maxwell, my dreamy hero from Ship of Dreams, is from the South — North Georgia to be specific. I was born in Florida, but I come from a Southern family, and growing up, I spent my summers with my grandparents in Georgia. When I was writing Ship of Dreams, I did some research to refresh my childhood memories. 

Of course, we all know the ever popular “y’all” which never refers to the singular. It always refers to the plural.

My grandmother guarded her pocketbook as she pushed her buggy down the aisles of the Piggly Wiggly.

My grandfather was fixin’ to cut the grass.

Bless your heart was never intended to be literal — or kind. It’s a bitchy way of saying, “Are you that stupid?” As in, “She’s wearing white after Labor Day. Well, bless her heart.”

When company was coming over, my grandmother would give the house a lick and a promise, as in a quick once over with a broom and dust cloth. 

I would get a spanking if I sassed my grandparents or pitched a hissy fit. 

Hissy fit and conniption fit are not to be used interchangeably. A hissy fit is a childish display of temper, like a tantrum, only worse. A conniption fit is a sudden, violent emotional outburst generally triggered by shocking news or an unexpected turn of events.  

Even so, I found myself doing research on Southern phrases. Some I remember from my grandparents, but some I’d never heard before. Here are a few of my favorites:

• Too big for your britches
• Won't hit a lick at a snake
• She was madder than a wet hen
• You can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear
• Knee-high to a grasshopper
• Haven't seen him in a coon's age
• Comin' up a cloud
• Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free

How about you? Do you know any funny Southern phrases?

Five Best Days (So Far)

I recently celebrated my birthday, which prompted reflection and a conversation with my hubby about my top five best days (so far). So, in chronological order, here are my top five best days.

First up, the day my husband proposed, or should I say the early morning my husband proposed. It was New Year’s 1995. We were visiting friends in Maine, if you can believe that. It was bitterly cold as one would expect of Maine in the dead of winter. We were at our friends’ home for a New Year’s Eve party, and after an evening of imbibing, everyone was dancing and generally partying like it was 1999, only it was 1995. After having danced with the mother of our friend, my boyfriend paired up with me for another dance.

As we danced, he said Jamie's mother told him we should get married. I laughed. We had already both been married and divorced and he once said he would never get married again. Then he followed up that comment with, “So what do you think, wanna get married?” I know, not the most romantic proposal, but I thought he was joking. So, my response, a heartfelt, "Excuse me?"

When he made it clear that it wasn't a joke, I said yes. The evening ended with me stepping out the front door only to step onto a patch of ice and landing on my butt. It took my brand new fiancé a few moments to realize that I'd even fallen. My hero. This May we'll celebrate our 20th anniversary. And they said it wouldn't last.

The day I graduated from law school also makes the list. After seven long years of school (undergrad and law school), it was a momentous occasion. I entered the workforce right out of high school and didn’t attend college until I was 30, graduating from law school at 37. I was the first member of my family to earn a college degree, much less a professional degree. It was a proud day for me, my husband, and my family.

Six months later, the day I learned I’d passed the bar exam was even bigger than the day I graduated from law school. The state bar gives you a date when the scores will be out, so you can go online and check. That morning my husband had to go out of town, but he hung around an hour to see if the scores had come in. Finally, he couldn’t wait any longer. He had to get on the road or he’d be late for his first appointment. Not 10 minutes after he left, I checked again, and sure enough the scores were up.

The scores are just a list of bar numbers, with a column for each test, and a column that indicated whether you are eligible to be sworn in. The person above me failed, and the person below me failed. I finally had to get a ruler so that I knew I was lining my scores up. I practically fainted when I read it. I called my husband and he was so disappointed that he wasn’t there to share it with me. About 45 minutes later, the doorbell rang. He’d sent the biggest bouquet of flowers I think I’d ever seen.

Rounding out my five best days so far, was the day I got “the call,” or in my case, the email every unpublished writer longs to receive. A publisher wanted my book.

On the morning of September 20, 2011 (yes, I have the date memorized), I got “The Email.” When I saw the subject line (the book title), and who the email was from, I sat there, staring at my computer screen, afraid to open the email. Did I really want to start my day with a rejection? I sucked it up, and opened it.

I was shocked to read the line, “Great news! I enjoyed The Promise of Change so much, we’d like to publish it.” I read it again, just to be sure. Then I jumped from my chair and danced around my office, before racing out to tell my secretary. She wasn’t at her desk. I’d forgotten she had a dentist appointment that morning. Then I raced into my colleague’s office. Empty.

I picked up the phone and called my husband. It went to his voice mail. Next, I called my sister, got her voice mail. Finally, I called my dear friend and beta reader (the one who was responsible for getting me to actually writing the book to begin with). Voice Mail.

Argh! Here I get this exciting news and I'm dancing around the office (maybe it's good I didn't have witnesses), and I had no one to tell. Not a single soul who had been on the journey with me. So, I did what any sane person who’d just learned her baby was going to be published would do, I danced around my office some more. Needless to say, nothing got done on my day job that day. I rode that high all week!

Hopefully, there are more “best days” to come.

What are some of your best days?