Has
this ever happened to you?
Just as it's your turn to cross the railroad or trolley tracks
lights start flashing and the crossing guard begins a slow descent.
A myriad of questions besiege you.
Will those heavy cross arms dent the
roof of your new car?
Should you speed up and try to outrun
the approaching train?
No.
Never a good idea.
The car behind you is too close, so you
can't back up. Will your bumper clear the tracks?
A sinking feeling plummets to the
pit of your stomach. If you are too close will the fast approaching trolley drag
you and your car with it down the tracks?
What to do, what to do?
Authors,
after you
miraculously escape, capture the moment.
Commit those feelings to memory and capitalize on those emotions. Capture your
quandary over whether to stay put or take flight. Later try to recall every
emotion that washed through you and made you sweat, from your weakened knees
and the sudden dampness of your palms right down to the very real possibility you'd
wet your pants. Those emotions correctly captured on the pages of your next WIP
will make the reader unable to put down your published novel.
Suppose your toddler wakes you in
the middle of the night, burning up with a high fever. Should you call the
doctor? Rush your little one to Urgent Care?
Is
it even open at night?
ER is, thank God, but during the
long wait to be seen by a doctor your child might be exposed to something else,
something worse.
What should you do? Wait and see? Treat
the symptoms and pray?
And what if you smell smoke, but are
unable to locate the source?
Or you're driving down a lonely
stretch of highway and the motor quits?
Or you're home alone and hear the
sound of breaking glass?
Should you call 911? Scream? Get out
of the house? Or wait and see what happens next? You don't want to look like a
fool by calling the police again, but maybe this time, someone really is trying
to break in.
It's the same when you meet a good
looking stranger and feel an instant attraction. Or the stark fear of
approaching footsteps as you wait at an unlit bus stop. Or when you barely
avoid a traffic accident. Or experience
a first kiss. Or hug a loved one goodbye at the airport?
What if something happens, you
wonder, and your loved one never returns?
Capture
the moment,
and those doubts. Every parent has
faced this dilemma so most of your readers will have experienced it, too. If
you do the job right and capture the emotions the onset of high fever caused,
then step-by-terrifying-step describe your indecision and panic on the pages of
your manuscript, and your readers will relive that nightmare right along with
you.
Capture
the moment, the
doubts, the painful, deep ache in
your chest the run-away beat of your heart causes, the sudden cold sweat, the indecision. Make notes on those feelings in a notebook
labeled Emotions, or in a computer file.
This is your chance to make your
writing come to life. Use your emotions. Capture
those moments and you'll find yourself referring to your notes again and
again.
In Christmas Eve, my contemporary erotic novel Evernight Publishing will
release on December 14th, Real Estate Agent Eve Adohr faces emotional
indecision, too. She's snowbound in a mountain cabin with the owner, a total
stranger. Should she enjoy a pleasant dinner with the first true romantic she's
ever met? Or spend the next three days crouched behind a closed door,
senselessly fearing for her life?
Eve decides to wait and see what Nick's
intentions are. Soon, and with no regrets, she is sucked right into his fantasy
and garners lifelong memories of her unplanned romantic tryst.
Here's
a blurb:
In
a blinding snowstorm on Christmas Eve,
the jaded owner of a posh Las Vegas casino mistakes the stranded real estate
agent at his door for the classy call girl he's expecting to heat up his
holiday.
Passions
ignite. Eve has learned men believe bedding her the most direct route to her
wealth. Nick's female companions always want the keys to his Ferrari and to his
safe deposit box, never to his heart, so he distrusts the entire lot and
expects to simply walk away unscathed when his brief time with Eve ends.
Neither
expects to give marriage a try, but hearts have a way of going where cautious
souls refuse, and after screwing their heads off for six days and nights Nick
and Eve discover without love their former lives were little more than empty
shells.
And an excerpt:
Finally. Nick St. Clair took one last look around.
Everything seemed in order. Don't let
your irritation at your hired date's tardiness show. She might have a
reasonable excuse for being late.
Straightening the lapels of his
hip-length robe, he crossed to the door. Beneath the robe, black silk pajama
pants provided minimal warmth but kept him decent.
"I'm sorry to disturb
you," the statuesque woman on his porch said with a bright smile,
"but I've done something really stupid and wondered if you—"
"Don't just stand there."
Nick opened the door wider, anxious to see what his credit card had purchased
this time. "Come in."
"Thanks." After a slight
hesitation, the woman stepped gracefully inside. Ice crystals clung to the fine
wool scarf wrapped loosely around her neck, and to her stylish boots. She was
all bundled up in a long coat, but Nick's mind's eye had no difficulty
sketching what he hoped was hidden underneath.
The lady wore far too many clothes.
"I'm afraid my boots are
wet." She glanced first at him. His welcoming smile seemed to stun her.
She stared at her boots. "Where would you like me to stand?"
"By the fire." Nick
indicated the hearth. "You look frozen." Although in need of a woman,
he had no desire to bed an icicle. He wasn't that desperate. Yet.
She crossed the room at a slow pace,
her fluid movements an aphrodisiac to him, although each tentative step left
behind a patch of melting ice. Sex-deprived man that he was, his living room
suddenly felt too warm. Things were looking up.
"I've been busy on the
computer," he said, surprised by the sudden gruffness of his usually
smooth voice. He joined her before the fire. "I hadn't noticed it had
begun to snow."
A soft-looking, hooded leather coat
covered her to her ankles. What lay beneath all those layers?
To his surprise, the unknown whetted
his appetite. "Here, let me help you out of that coat."
"No."
No? Her response drew Nick up short.
"That won't be necessary,"
she said, her sexy eyes wide. "I'll just keep it on, since I'm hoping
we'll be going right back out."
Out? Was this some sort of sex game played to excite him?
"Problem is..." She
paused, smiling up at him, even daring to bat her eyes.
Unusual
eyes, those. Emeralds, flecked with gold, and about all Nick could see of his
date at the moment. He found the situation so damned erotic he began to sweat.
"...
my car slid in the ditch next door," she added, drawing his thoughts from
what treasures her long coat might hide. "I wouldn't bother you, but this
mountain seems to be out of my cell phone's service area and I wondered if I
might use your phone to call for a tow."
The
dimple nestled in the satiny cheek nearest Nick flirted with him as she spoke. Intriguing. Might as well play along.
"Sure."
Flame Arden talks like a well-bred
Southern lady. Nothing could be further from the truth. She claims to write sex
scenes with squirm factor. You be the judge as she opens the boudoir door to one-man,
one-woman relationships and gives you a glimpse inside. A happy and lasting
marriage has prepared Flame to write sizzling love scenes, and she doesn't
disappoint.
Flame
hangs out here:
http://flamearden.wordpress.com/
On December 14th you can download Christmas Eve here:
It
will be available that same day from your favorite eBook store!
