L.J. Wilson

Author of Ruby Ink

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How to Post Your Novel Status on Facebook

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975708_10101459160073470_57961841_nFor what seems like stationary thing, status is a busy word. It can tell you something simple, like the “in transit” location of the cat tree you ordered on Amazon. Traditionally, the word status speaks to one’s life achievements. Nowadays, status is most commonly associated with Facebook vernacular. The other day, because my brain hit a wall, (not so strange) I thought: What if you could capture a novel’s progress in terms of a Facebook status? Would it look something like this?

To Send a Friend Request: This is where you and your novel idea meet—maybe it’s in a bar, maybe it’s at the dry cleaner. But it starts with a casual glance, an idea that seems… appealing. The next thing you know you’re trolling Facebook, searching names. It has to be the right name. (Hopefully you haven’t met John Smith, because Facebook is a big place and you could literally spend days searching for your particular John Smith) In the case of a book, you’ll likely settle on a few names for your burgeoning characters. You might change them along the way; you might not. Names are a highly personal choice for the author. But I’ve noticed this about novel names: Alice, Emma, Sarah, or Ann is far more likely to show up as a female protagonist than Helga, Irene, Rita or Gladys. Interestingly, I couldn’t draw the same conclusion about the names of male characters.

Let’s assume your book accepts your friend request and the two of you are …

In a Relationship: Things begin to happen. In terms of a book, this means your plot is brewing. Like any relationship, and if you’re wise, there is a reasonable getting to know you period. This is where you figure out if you and your book have any chance at a future. It starts out like wildfire—there’s chemistry. It’s hot and sexy—though not necessarily sexual—and a page-turner. You don’t want to do anything but be with this book. You barely have to make an effort and things happen. It’s magic.

Then around page fifty (the three-month mark for human relationships) you hit a snag.

Suddenly this book has a few bad habits that are hard to overlook. Instead of pages on fire, you’re holding a book of wet matches. It all seems so confusing and frustrating and, quite facebook-broken-heartfrankly, pointless to continue. The characters you thought you’d fallen in love with don’t appear exactly as advertised. There’s a fight and you almost give up. You yell. You may throw things. You are ugly to the people you live with. You consider changing your Facebook status to separated, maybe even back to single.

To hell with this stupid book.

But then you notice all your mutual friends on Facebook. There are expectations—you’ve posted things about this book relationship. People will notice. You’ll have to explain. Worse, you’ll have to start over. Haplessly… begrudgingly, you trudge forward. And then, damn. Before you know it, you have more than one hundred pages. You and your book have made up. It doesn’t send flowers because, hell, it’s a book—but it does manage to deliver that killer line, at precisely the right moment. You can see a real future with this book and that’s called…

Engaged: This is the day real people post all kinds of sparkly happy shit on Facebook. This might be where writers post: Plunging with hopeful speed toward the last chapter! Ready the champagne! Pray for me! Human counterparts show off surprisingly manicured ring finger close-ups, bearing brilliant diamonds. Maybe it’s tasteful; maybe it’s so big that your Facebook friends secretly message each other saying, “OMG, did you see that post? She just wants to so totally shove it in everyone’s face.”

Either way, as far as you and your book are concerned, this is a sure thing—for better or worse, you are destined to finish this novel and you do. But before long…

tumblr_mb6kk9T1EI1r4nitmo1_500It’s Complicated: You thought you had it. You thought this book screamed, “You complete me…” Then the outside world barges in—what did you expect? This is social media. Everyone will have an opinion. When it comes to your book, this might be your agent or editor. “It’s really very good,” they say. “But just think what would happen if…” You want to cry and shriek and break up all over again—maybe with your agent or editor, but mostly with your book. You don’t want to take it apart and start again. It’s too hard. Dear God, at this point, becoming an astrophysicist would be an easier feat. So you sulk and don’t look at any kind of book for days, maybe a week. You consider deleting the entire thing. But before long, the temptation is too much and you find yourself…

Married: This is code for On Sale Now in the world of books. And for a time, everything is bright and shiny and wonderful. It’s only after the honeymoon stage that you realize this is work. Like a marriage, your book requires your loyal dedication and serious commitment if you want it to succeed. Still, things may be so wonderful that on anniversaries you post one of those Facebook status updates about how lucky you are to have married your “best friend.” Translation: “I wrote a bestseller, and, man, am I damn lucky I stepped in it.”

 

 

Seriously? She Writes Romance?

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The blog below originally appeared on One Curvy Blogger. Many thanks to Sarah, who had this to say about Ruby Ink: “Hey, Curvy Readers! Today I have a guest post to share with you guys. Earlier this week I reviewed Ruby Ink. I loved it so much, I invited L.J. Wilson back so she can give us an in-depth peek at the author behind such a unique story!”

ruby-promo-Aar-MindBodySoul-6aIf we met at a party, on an airplane, or got stuck in an elevator, then were asked “Can you tell me something about L. J. Wilson?” the last thing you’d answer is “She writes romance.” Sarcastic, wine drinker, cat person, lover of Georgia football (woohoo, Georgia fan!) and inappropriate humor, any of those would be a solid guess—and you’d be right. I don’t wear romance writer on my sleeve and I tend to roll my eyes at rom-coms. I never got Jane Austen. I am a poor representative of my romantic writing peers.

That said, show me a man with a desperate story and an unshakable love for one woman and I’ll make a hero out of him. I’m fascinated by unearthing the good in a character, and my niche is damaged men. Maybe it’s because the breed is rare and odds of success so small. The best male characters, for me, are those who confound readers in the role of hero but prove to be exactly that. And I’m not talking textbook bad boy, but protagonists challenged by extraordinary circumstance. I’m drawn to their dilemmas—imaginary as they may be—and I love to write about them. Is it fantasy? Perhaps. Is it possible? I like to think it is. Am I encouraging hot daydreams and wistful happy endings? Damn, I sure hope so.

I’ve dabbled in other genres. It’s been suggested that I write thrillers. I’m not so bad with intense action scenes—the rhythm oddly mirrors heated romance—but I’ve always known enough to say “What’s the point?” If I were to spend two-hundred pages plotting a spy novel involving cold war countries and high-tech tactical operations, I’d only end up telling you the love story. How the rebel forces leader—the one who’s really a covert U.S. operative—is secretly planning to rescue his lover, held hostage by an old nemesis.

My Laura Spinella novels, Beautiful Disaster and Perfect Timing (and a third, Ghost Gifts, out next year) are categorized as women’s fiction, but at the heart of each book is a romance. When you write like that it’s a lot to balance. You have to weave romance into other layers, giving each portion of the story amble elbow room. When I committed to Ruby Ink and the Clairmonts, I dove in head first and hard. It was wildly freeing. Readers in this genre would not only welcome, but demand, serious steam. I hope I delivered. I also hope you’ll join me as we unravel the love lives of the entire Tribe of Five—Alec, Aaron, Honor, Jake and Troy—even their never-married parents, Sebastian and Evie, who have their own surprising tale to tell. When it comes to a sexy, thrill-seeking read, you never know what a Clairmont will bring to the pages.

 

Catching the Ghostwriter

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house-treeI live an old house. It makes sense: writer, vintage property, high on a hill, seclusion. If the liquor store delivered, I’d never leave. Atmosphere is never in short supply, the house adapting to seasons like a clapboard chameleon. I connected to this house the second I saw it, even after confronted by a kitchen that looked like something the Property Brothers would reject. In its favor was a to-die-for sunroom and built-in character, the kind modern homes can’t possibly produce.

Despite the lures—intangible and otherwise—what I didn’t know was the house’s history. Recorded deeds site conflicting dates: 1900 and 1910 as the year built. At the time of purchase, neighbors-in-the-know and memories were fading fast. No one recalled, with any veracity, its past before the late 1920’s. It didn’t matter. Whatever its history, I was in. Over the years, the house lived up to expectations. I’ve written and sold several novels since living here, wholly inspired by the house on the hill. I’d even go as far as to say the house deserved nearly as much credit as my own imagination.

With that in mind, you might be surprised to learn that recently I discovered I’d been duped. While I’ve been crediting character and gabled rooflines to serving as my steady muse, I should have been thanking Anna Reed Rathbun—my ghostwriter.

Let me explain.

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Birch Knoll, circa 1900

Last week, a friend sent a link to an online photo album. Its aged leather cover is engraved Birch Knoll. The family name connected to the album was Rathbun. I’d never heard of either. But with the click of a mouse, I found myself looking into a 125-year old mirror. Exterior photos depict a property that sits on a hilly plot of land unique as a fingerprint. Less the sunroom, which I knew was added around 1940, this was my house. But where were the looming water towers? Behind the property sit two impossible-to-miss water towers, erected in 1888. That would put the year built as prior to either date the deed called out. It was the smallest mystery the photos would reveal.

The album went on with interior pictures, both magnificent and perplexing. Room after room was lavishly embellished, showcasing paintings and rich tapestries, bookcases brimming with novels, mementos that reflected imagination and a rousing sense of adventure. Perhaps most stunning are the nude drawings proudly displayed—shocking for the era certainly. Even the ornate furniture and robust potted plants conveyed how much the people who lived there loved life and their home.

Screen Shot 2015-05-03 at 10.14.14 PMBut at a glance, much of the square footage didn’t make sense, neither did the grandeur. The rooms in these photos were dressed like a manor home, not my period Arts & Crafts abode. It was confounding, but eventually I realized how architectural changes aligned with long-ago photos. This was my house, inside and out. But who were the Rathbuns—a name I’d never heard of?  It took some digging to unearth the family, in particular Anna Rathbun. She was a highly accomplished woman for her era and this one. A graduate of Wellesley College, she was schooled in the fine arts, furthering her artistic pursuits in Paris. Apparently, she brought her passion for all art forms into our house, which turned out to be a summer home for the well-to-do Rathbuns of Providence.

So do I now believe my lovely house is haunted? Not at all, at least not in the chain-rattling, traditional sense. From what I’ve learned about Anna, she doesn’t seem the type to pursue anything so pedestrian. But if muses do exist and creativity is energy, I can only have benefitted from her legacy. That and I stand corrected in attaching inspiration to brick and mortar. My attraction, my connection to the property doesn’t have nearly as much to do with a house as it does the person who lived in it.

Ruby Ink, We Are Go for Launch

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home-slides-peace-3“There are a thousand steps…” It’s my favorite line from my favorite movie. It’s a malleable multipurpose phrase, great for teenagers prepping for SATs and works well with husbands asked to purge garages filled with 15 years of junk. Excuse me, valuable odds and ends, for which a purpose may be imminent.

The thousand step theory also applies to book writing and publishing—two very different undertakings. Although the thousand steps of book writing can feel more like a game of Chutes and Ladders. Climb to step 598 and you may slide back to step 212. Of course, step 212 looks remarkably similar to step 887, which mirrors step 413. Translation: revision, revision, revision. You get to claim 1000 when you send your manuscript off to your agent or editor, and if you’re lucky the counter only resets to step 712.

Publishing comes with its own thousand step process and on March 31st, a day I’ve dubbed Ruby Tuesday, I can loudly proclaim, “Five-hundred and ninety-nine!”

I bet you thought pub day was a sure thing 1000.

Not so fast.

Publication is an accomplishment—an asterisk-marked date for certain. And aside from a lot of Amazon numbers checking, you might indulge in champagne or even attend a launch party (virtual or live) to celebrate. But enjoy the moment, because step 600 forward is a steep hill.

Promotional methods and madness vary with some subject to the generosity of your publisher, perhaps your own pocketbook. My dream “money is no object” publicity event is a themed affair. After scrupulous auditions, actors would be cast to portray the characters in Ruby Ink.

Naturally we’d hold our paparazzi lined soirée at a breathtaking inn, scouting locations until we find something like this. Abstract Enchantment is the seductive setting for much of Ruby Ink, and we’d leave no bottle of wine uncorked in search of the proper locale. Once inside, Aaron, Ruby and the supporting cast could mingle among the guests, offering enticing storyline tidbits. Of course, our launch party is a public—not private—bash, so we’d have to stick to hints—just enough innuendo to let readers know that things get pretty steamy in Nickel Springs. Fun, huh? Well, a casting director I’m not. But if I were considering men for Aaron’s part, you can bet they’d look something like this.

Realistically, Ruby Ink’s promotional efforts will be more social media oriented, working Facebook, Twitter and Pinterest with the vigor of a Jerry Lewis telethon. The biggest boon might be a Ruby Ink virtual book tour, courtesy of TLC Book Tours. I don’t think any publicity effort can out maneuver old-fashioned word of mouth, and a book tour is a great way to light that fuse.

Amidst the Ruby Ink fanfare, real and imagined, I’ll also keep in mind advice my agent gave me when my first novel debuted in 2011: Make every effort you can—you never know. But also know that books launched into the stratosphere usually do so because of an unexpected windfall of publicity.

Here’s hoping Lady Luck blows a little good fortune Ruby Ink’s way.

 

The Permanence of Ink

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In 2015, body art is as common as cell phones and social media. In fact, you have to be north of 30 to recall a time when two of those staples didn’t exist. Tattoos, on the other hand, have been around, seemingly, forever. A recent Bored Panda post, and the prominence of tattoos in Ruby Ink, got me thinking about the vast history of the topic. From Henna-dyed Egyptians to Julius Caesar, Somoan warriors to 18th century British officers, tattoos are a well-documented form of expression.

Woman_with_upper_body_tattooed_1907_cph.3a01441
One of the earliest known “tattooed ladies” of the circus, circa 1907

In the United States, the history of ink is more casual, kind of like back roads on a map— always there, not necessarily seen at a glance, and never erased. My earliest recollection of tattoos belongs to a dog-eared copy of Playtime for Nancy—go figure. In the story, Nancy takes a trip to the circus where she gorges herself on hotdogs and soda to the point of puking. Amid the lesson about quality versus quantity, the book references the circus’s tattooed lady, who is stereotyped along with the fat lady and happy trained elephants. Interesting how times change and mercifully people evolve. Today, the same number of tats and a couple of bucks might get you in line at Starbucks, but it certainly won’t rate as an attraction.

Aside from Nancy, I had an uncle who—much to my mother’s disapproval—proudly bore several tattoos. He was a jokester of sorts, a man whose ink complemented his irreverent, colorful nature. He would have been a prime candidate for Bored Panda pixs, if the Lucky Strikes hadn’t gotten to him first.

Ink, for as long as it’s been around, can brand wearers and readers in new and evocative ways. Case in point, my decision to use tattoos as the symbolism in Ruby Ink. I wasn’t breaking new ground; in fact, the easy popularity of tattoos may have spurred me on. Body art is, nowadays, so accepted I saw the tats as a relatable hook for readers. Although, admittedly, one scene in particular uses the tattoos as a well-placed plot device, cranking the heat up a notch.  See how I put body art and my characters to work in this exclusive, sneak peek excerpt.While tattoos are universal, their individual meanings are highly personal, and I didn’t hesitate to take advantage in Ruby Ink.

Want to read more Ruby Ink and discover if Aaron triumphs? Pre-order today, read the book on March 31st! And don’t forget, only days left to enter my $100 Amazon Gift Card Giveaway! Click here to enter. 

Is a Pen Name a Good Thing?

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SONY DSCA blend of folklore and fact explains how Samuel Clemmons became Mark Twain, another byproduct of the famed author’s time as a riverboat employee. The most validated tale revolves around captain Isaiah Sellers and his pragmatic descriptions of the Mississippi River—its water levels and favorable, or not, sailing conditions. In the margin of his logs, it’s said that Sellers embellished the dry waterway notes, detailing the river with more interesting and less perfunctory information. He’d sign his all his findings—exaggerated and unadorned—“Mark Twain.” And so was born the identity that Samuel Clemmons chose for his own writing. The words he saw as extensions of the truth, or the fiction we know as Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn.

Fast-forward a century and a half, to J. K. Rowling, who chooses her pen name based on a business hunch. Would pre-teen and teenage boys (her intended audience for the yet to be published Harry Potter) respond favorably to a woman’s name (Joanne) on the book’s cover? Well, in addition to a great story, it certainly didn’t seem to hurt.

Between Twain and Rowling, countless authors have chosen pen names for a variety of reasons—some gender bending, others to protect their privacy, ease of use if their given name were nearly unpronounceable, or to avoid confusion. Should you have suffered the curious luck of being born Stephen King or Margaret Mitchell, and decide, you too, were a writer, separating yourself from these greats would be a no-brainer. If not, be prepared. Any and all comparisons are guaranteed literary suicide.

With the dizzying metamorphosis of publishing, authors have turned the pen name page again. A pseudonym, along with the aforementioned uses, also signals a shift in genre—something more and more authors are embracing. Rebranding is how trendsetters and even traditional publishing houses refer to it, and L. J. Wilson is my own example. After publishing two women’s fiction novels, the idea sprouted to do something… shall we say, tastefully risqué. Not long into the first draft, it became apparent that if I wanted to write sensual romance, if I wanted to properly brand myself and the Clairmont series, a pen name was paramount.

I tried on names like dresses in a fitting room—you just know what’s a keeper and what to toss aside. I thought about pseudonyms that might resonate with readers, wondering what would do more harm than good. In the end, I went with something that was a natural fit, choosing my maiden name and initials. Because I’m so pleased with Ruby Ink, and having developed such a fondness for the Clairmont stories, I was fine with closely associating, and hardly hiding the fact that L. J. Wilson and Laura Spinella are the same person.

Is it necessary? Will the trend continue? Could Laura Spinella have just as easily written Ruby Ink? Opinions will vary, and like everything else in publishing, no one knows for sure. But I suspect there’s a good chance J. K. & Robert Galbraith would agree with that much.

ruby-in-cvr

While you’re here, enter to win a $100 Amazon Gift Card, celebrating Ruby Ink’s release, and don’t miss the Goodreads giveaway. I’m giving away 7 signed copies of Ruby Ink.
“A sultry story… intensely emotional and full of heart. L. J. Wilson is a discovery.”
—Shannon McKenna, New York Times bestselling author
Photo courtesy of gratisography.com

Oh, the Drama!

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couple-278269_1280Writers—romance writers in particular—require drama. I mean, if it weren’t for conflict, books would be rather boring things. In real life it’s not so black and white, as no one likes endless jags of drama, fits of jealousy or continuous battle rounds—unless it’s The Voice. Still, whether drama is found in your living room or a novel, occasional emotional anarchy is unavoidable.

A recent Washington Post article put the topic of personal drama under a microscope, dissecting and classifying the scientific explanation of human turmoil, especially when it comes to couples: “During times of stress, the hormones cortisol (which makes us feel anxious) and oxytocin (which prompts feelings of love and nurturing) are released into the bloodstream. Men, however, produce lower amounts of oxytocin than women. As a result, men tend to respond to stress by becoming angrier and more aggressive.”

The article goes on to note that men often use the accusation of drama to end an argument, thereby watering down their significant other’s complaint.

It explains a lot regarding this specific human condition, as well as facilitating the scope of emotions available to the characters writers’ create.

As noted, I write romance—so I do a lot of thinking about how men and women react to drama: arguments, feelings of jealousy and even rage. Overall, the Washington Post article mirrored my general rule of thumb when expressing how men and women interact—particularly characters whose heartfelt emotions might overrule their intellectual response. To dumb it down, boys do it differently than girls.

A good example can be found in my upcoming novel, Ruby Ink—yes, even a romance novel can further the insights of the Washington Post. The scene I’m thinking of centers on the hero and heroine, who are reunited after a pain-filled seven-year separation. During that time, each character had to deal with the emotional aspects of the estrangement. By the time we get them in a room, the reader, Ruby and Aaron are primed for conflict, not to mention a healthy slathering of drama. As the fly on the wall that makes it all go, my job is to craft reactions that ring true to life, and even the Washington Post.

As the scene unfolds, Aaron is aggressive—and I don’t mean aggressive in a violent way. Remember, this is romance, so I have leeway in terms of how he reacts to being alone with Ruby—a woman he’s hopelessly in love with and that Aaron had never expected to see again. Ruby, on the other hand, approaches the moment from the opposite end of the drama meter. She pleads her case verbally, although emotion is clearly driving her thoughts, both dialogue and physical cues.

The tension builds as Ruby’s emotions begin to spill over, heightening the drama and hopefully encouraging the reader to turn the page. But as the scene concludes with the interruption of a third party, I’m brought back around to the reality of the Washington Post article.

In the end, it’s Aaron who can’t flesh out what he’s feeling or how he should respond to Ruby’s sudden presence. The scene fades to black, leaving a sea of unsettled emotion, and our hero feeling rather angry, almost stunted in his reply—hence that lack of oxytocin. For Ruby, it’s the opposite result. The return of her hero has opened a floodgate of emotion that is clear to herself and the reader. Throughout a novel, whether it’s the main characters or minor players, the writer must be conscious of nature’s natural order—or allocation of hormones as the case may be.

Want to discover the story behind Aaron and Ruby’s seven-year separation—what tore them apart and the incredible circumstance that brings them together? Pre-order Ruby Ink, on sale March 31st!RUBY-FinalCover

 

While you’re here, enter to win a $100 Amazon Gift Card, celebrating Ruby Ink’s release, and don’t miss the Goodreads giveaway. I’m giving away 7 signed copies of Ruby Ink.

“A sultry story… intensely emotional and full of heart. L. J. Wilson is a discovery.”—Shannon McKenna, New York Times bestselling author

picture courtesy of pixabay

Is Clorox Gluten-Free?

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I’m a writer. But I never thought I’d write a blog, or even a note to myself, about being gluten-free. Now, surely you’ve just concluded I’m newly diagnosed, that I’ve found my social conversation cross to bear via genealogical fate—but you’d be wrong. I’ve been a card-carrying Celiac for nearly six years. I’ve just never been particularly motivated to put pen to paper—or fingers on a keyboard, as the case may be. If I were to tackle the topic, I’d start with my grandmother. I owe her. In addition to hips wider than I’d like, I’m certain she was the giver of this special gift, although she was never diagnosed.

gram 2Gram lived in an era when people died from the measles (though there seems to be a fresh uptick on that) and doctors were far more concerned with curing polio. Her belly pain was reduced to skeptical curiosity with likely theories running the gamut: it was the coffee, the tea, the beans, the tomatoes, the protein, her gallbladder, the mustard, the milk, the Mylanta she took for the pain.

No, Gram. It was the wheat.

It was the cookies you made by the dozens and the delicate Christmas tarts, the endless pasta dinners, and the warm delicious Zeppoles—which, by the way, is a recipe you managed to take to the grave. The disease, not so much.

So what about Celiac disease has finally brought me to the gluten-free table of conversation? On my most recent trip to the grocery store—and I do this a lot in a family of five—I’d suddenly felt as if I’d been zonked on the head by the gluten-free fairy. Madness. I tell you, it’s madness. I take exception to the glut of GF tagging. Nowadays, I half expect to find the Clorox and Duraflame logs stamped gluten-free.

Don’t get me wrong. Awareness is a good thing. Choices are even better. But those two things, bound together, seem to have resulted in an industry born out of a disease. Is that also a good thing? I’m not sure. I certainly can’t complain about the aisle dedicated to GF products in my grocery store. But I do wonder if the market is taking advantage of the trend.

recite-1ycmnhtFor those who dabble in gluten-free thinking, the misnomers are vast. Savvy marketing and misinformation have many believing that gluten-free falls into the same healthy eating habits that MyPlate.gov encourages. Gluten-free, right up there with antioxidants, low carbs, more greens and less sugar. It’s not the same thing. Gluten-free—while theorized to influence a number of maladies—is really only proven as the “maintenance drug” for Celiacs, additionally offering relief to those who are gluten sensitive.

Add to this the cost of going gluten-free. Years later, and I’m still stunned by the prices—$19.99 for a sack of flour, $3.00 for a 3 ounce box of Rice Thins, a tasty product manufactured by Nabisco. Their counterpart would be Wheat Thins, 8 ounces, on sale for $1.98 on the next aisle over. It’s just an observation, but last I checked, rice was as plentiful as wheat.

It begs the question, if GF demand is so great, why are prices so high? Haven’t manufacturers had the time and technology to mainstream their GF products and neutralize some of the cost? Are gluten-free goods still really considered a specialty item? Maybe not the Clorox, but when a bag of plain frozen peas bears a fancy “gluten-free” label, you have to wonder if you’re being given information or a sales pitch. And speaking of sales, gluten-free products are projected to exceed $5-billion dollars in revenue this year. As the GF world grows, so should questions about the profit margin of consumables that, for many, are a necessity.

A last thought on going gluten-free and how Gram might have reacted to all the GF fuss. Maybe it’s better she never knew. Maybe her suffering was a tradeoff. But mostly, I think, she would have looked at the cost of going gluten-free, muttered a few choice curse words in Italian, and taken her chances on the aisles of plenty—and that would have been a shame.

 

Are you gluten-free? If so, please share your story below! 
Also, don’t forget: Ruby Ink is available for pre-order now on Amazon! Click here to be among the first to receive your eBook when it goes live on 3/31.
“A sultry, tantalizing story… intensely emotional and full of heart. L. J. Wilson is a discovery.”
–Shannon McKenna, New York Times bestselling author

 

 

Pictures courtesy of the Public Domain Archive and Laura Spinella

 

This Is The Reason Lovers Lie

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rose-615281_1280Good lovers lie. Or so said a pre-Valentine’s Day New York Times post on the subject. The well-written article goes into great depth when it comes to passion-prodded lying—to your significant other, your children, and your friends. “If you want to have love in your life, you’d better be prepared to tell some lies and to believe some lies.”

This past weekend, my daughter put that concept to the test. Her new beau, while a delightful young man, didn’t seem terribly dialed in to the nuances of the special date. When she mentioned having purchased him a gift, his response was, “Oh. I made a dinner reservation. I didn’t know we were doing gifts.”

He’s young. He’ll learn. (Though perhaps not on her dime.)

Reservations were made, but to keep the evening from downward spiral trajectory, I suggested she be prepared with two gifts—the sporty, but hardly Rolex, watch she purchased, and a more casual box of chocolates. If his gift wasn’t worth a Facebook post—i.e., an I ♥ NY coffee mug—she should smile and hand over the candy. No need to take him to task and letting the lesson be hers: meaningful gifts are free will inspired. I went on to hint she should look at the bright side: take solace in the fact that he didn’t decide movie tickets to the Fifty Shades debut would be a point-scoring gift.

This latest Valentine’s Day snafu, plus a few of my own, made me think about lying in the name of love when it comes to books. It’s a natural segue, as romance writing is what I do with most of my non-mom time. In real life instances, like my daughter’s date, these sorts of lies must be carefully weighed and measured. Real life consequences, not to mention Facebook relationship statuses, rely on it. If you read the NYT article, you’ll see that a valid argument is made for lying to spare the feelings of our loved ones. Romance novels, on the other hand, bring a far more brutal reality to the mix—without lies there’d be no books.

Imagination is all about fabrication, and what is fabrication? Well, I believe it’s a synonym for lying. Storybook lies, in fact, make romance thrive. The hero lies to save his love interest from certain doom. In turn, the heroine lies to keep the peace and to stay the course. But never fear, it’s all for naught, as certainly every lie will lead her back to her one true love. The villain plays a part too, lying to inflict pain and suffering, a move that will surely result in his or her undoing, making the circle of lies complete. Love lies, on this stage, make the romance market go round.

Aside from a little mother-daughter advice and everyday writing, I prefer to leave the psychological ebb and flow of love lies to the New York Times and the experts. But I think I speak for many romance authors in recognizing that untruths are paramount to a good love story.

 

Pre-order Ruby Ink today!ruby-in-cvr-final
Centered around the lives and loves of five fascinating siblings—Alec, Aaron, Honor, Jake and Troy—the Clairmont series novels deliver complex characters, intriguing romance and tantalizing stories.
In book one, Ruby Ink, questions are asked as the answers unfold. How far beyond prison walls does Aaron’s bad-boy persona go? Was Ruby right to swear him off forever?
Picture courtesy of Pixabay.com