by Charlene Teglia | May 20, 2005 | Uncategorized
Since I’m on the official sick list (nothing lethal, don’t worry), I get to lay around reading with no guilt over the fact that I’ve left my imaginary friends hanging. Yesterday I re-read Lord of Scoundrels by Loretta Chase, an old favorite. Today I have some EC books on my reading list. Here they are:
Erin’s Fancy, NJ Walters. Already up to chapter two and it’s very funny. For those who like the hot stuff without anything too whacky, this is an S-rated book and might just be up your alley.
A Fine Work of Art, Shelby Reed. Also an S-rated book, featuring a younger hero. I like the older woman, younger hero stories but there are very few of them out there. I’m looking forward to reading this one. It was also an EPPIE finalist.
Wildcat by Cheyenne McCray. I haven’t read any of Cheyenne’s books yet, pretty much because I want them in paperback. I dunno why, I just do. There’s a wild B&N spree in my future. But this one has a hot cowboy on the cover and I just couldn’t resist. Also it’s supposed to be funny. And it was an RT Top Pick. I wanted funny and sexy with a hot cowboy, it sounded like just the thing for a sick day.
What kinds of books do you look for when you’re feeling rotten and want to be swept away?
by Charlene Teglia | May 19, 2005 | Uncategorized
There was a truly terrible Ben Stiller movie on recently, which I watched with my daughter because we don’t allow her to watch anything but Disney Channel and that’s what was on. It made me realize that I’d only see two Ben Stiller movies I liked, and both of those I liked so much I wanted to buy them; Zoolander and Starsky and Hutch. What do these movies have in common? Owen Wilson.
Owen Wilson is one of those rare people who seem to bring out the best in others. Put him with Jackie Chan? I’m so there! With Ben Stiller, the byplay becomes truly entertaining instead of the kind of humor I don’t relate to. (Yes, I know lots of people loved Something About Mary. I just found it painful.)
Which made me think, “All of us need Owen Wilsons in our lives.” Not the actor. Those people who bring out the best in us, who raise our performance to a higher level.
There will always be people willing to criticize, judge, undermine and discourage us. No need to ever worry that we won’t have enough of those around! But the people who bring us up, we need them and sometimes they’re hard to find. When we do find them, they deserve our appreciation along with the very best we have to offer.
I’m grateful for the Owen Wilsons in my life. They make me better.
by Charlene Teglia | May 18, 2005 | Uncategorized
What a thing to wake up to; a review of Dangerous Games from Just Erotic Romance Reviews in my inbox! It’s not on the website, it’s in the latest edition of the newsletter. Link to the newsletter is on their site. (The next JERR newsletter will have a review of Legendary Tails II. Can’t wait to see that one!)
Giving Dangerous 4 stars and the highest heat level rating, O for Orgasmic, reviewer Kay Smith says:
“Drake is commanding and demanding and warrants a very high drool rating. Melinda is shy and sexually insecure but she is willing to meet Drake head on. I really enjoyed this story. Melinda humorously rationalizes her responses to Drake by blaming his “mate-with-me” pheromones and her out-of-control hormones as the reasons. I laughed as I read Melinda’s comparison of their sex games with the razing of Tokyo by Godzilla. When it comes to razing, Godzilla has nothing on Drake. If you like fun and games, you’ll enjoy Dangerous Games.”
Whoop!
by Charlene Teglia | May 17, 2005 | Uncategorized
On Writing is one of those wonderful books that unfortunately didn’t exist when I started. I wish it had. I held off writing my first book far too long out of sheer intimidation. The process looked so scary. So huge. So full of 3×5 cards and plot outlines. (Don’t even mention the hero’s journey or GMC. My head will explode.)
Where to begin? I’d always written shorter works first and then done the obligatory outline (or whatever a class required) afterwards. With a book, it looked like I would be forced to reverse the process. But there’s a problem with that. My brain doesn’t work that way.
I finally just came to the point of “now or never, just do it” and leaped in. I figured I’d never been an outliner so I shouldn’t expect myself to become one. If I could finish short pieces my way, why not something longer? I studied the construction of novels intensively before trying to write one and I had years of voracious reading to draw on so I knew roughly what a finished novel should look like. And I had an idea that I thought would support a novel.
My first novel was not a thing of beauty, but it was far from the worst piece of trash ever created and it gave me courage. I did it. There it was, hundreds of pages of proof that it could be done. In my second novel, if I ever felt doubt all I had to do was look back at that five pounds of paper to see the physical evidence. At the end of my second novel, I breathed in relief; the first one had not been a fluke. I could do this. I really could. And I could do it the way that worked for me.
I’m having a lovely email conversation with another author about the writing process right now and she brought up something that’s made me think hard. Could I teach somebody else to do it the way I do? I’m honestly not sure because it seems intuitive to me. I start with X and write that and then I know Y and I go from there, but from my point of view there’s an intuitive leap in between. Underneath intuition there’s always logic, though. So I ought to be able to work backwards and figure out how I got from X to Y and from there to a finished book.
My method, by the way, is using theme as my road map. I have a core idea, I identify the theme, and then I have the story’s map. I can’t write a step-by-step plot outline at this point. I just have the map and until I’ve made the trip I don’t even know all the landmarks I’m going to see, but I can see them in the distance as I approach them. I know what kind of country I’m travelling. I know where I’m going and I don’t get lost.
How do I know what my theme is? Um. Well, I’m thinking about it. Like I said, I ought to be able to work backwards and find the logic. “I just know” can’t be the whole answer. I might be an intuitive, instinctive writer, but there is underlying logic to the process. If I can figure out the logic, this might be something that’s useful to somebody else. Because “I just know” is not particularly useful.
I’ll continue to think about this, and if I can come up with something beyond “I just know” I will blog about it.
by Charlene Teglia | May 15, 2005 | Uncategorized
Since Legendary Tails II is already shipping and/or on shelves in some places, I’m posting an excerpt in the blog. Not the same one that’s on the Books/Home page, a different one, featuring…the first kiss.
My wonderful web guru husband has done site updates, including linking Legendary Tails II to Barnesandnoble.com, since they’re already shipping it. If you read the excerpts and just can’t wait, you can click on over and order your very own copy. Happy Monday!
Love Spell, Ellora’s Cavemen Legendary Tails II
coming June 21 (or right now from B&N.com)
Copyright 2005 Charlene Teglia
Ellora’s Cave, Inc. all rights reserved
Blurb:
When it comes to love, demure Lucy Wilson wants to get carried away.
Literally. The inept witch has a history of relationship failure and she fears
that without passion, she won’t have lasting love. In order to have proof that she’s
the object of his desire, she wants a man who will capture her body and her
heart.
Attorney Mitch Davis is too conservative and too controlled to be the
passionate lover her heart yearns for. After months of platonic dating, Lucy
knows what she has to do. Give up on Mitch, and go after the man who will be
everything she needs with a love spell that can’t go wrong.
So why is Mitch the man she sees in the candle flame as she completes the
rite? And why is he suddenly giving her everything she needs? Does she
have him under a spell, or are they both caught up in the magic of love?
Excerpt:
Lucy set out a small, brightly colored fabric sachet of herbs, placed a pink
candle next to a crystal holder, and lit a stick of jasmine incense. As the
fragrant smoke curled around the end of the stick, she closed her eyes and
visualized a protective circle around the herself and the small draped table
that served as her altar.
She unrolled a piece of parchment and wrote, stopping often to twine a strand
of curly hair around her finger as she thought, then jotted down another
phrase or scratched out a line and rewrote.
The incense was reduced to a smoldering stub when, finally satisfied that the
list was complete, she set the parchment aside and took out a vial of rose oil.
She coated a fingertip with the oil, traced a line down the candle and
consecrated it. She opened the sachet, poured out vervain and rolled the
candle in the herbs. Then she stood the candle in the holder, lit it, and softly chanted the incantation.
“Moon of love, shining bright, aid me in my spell tonight. Guide my true love to me; as I send, so mote it be.”
Lucy gazed into the candle flame and envisioned the man who would
embody all of the qualities written painstakingly on her parchment. The man
who would be her soul mate, her knight in shining armor, her pirate, her
passionate and adoring lover. She said the words that called him to her three
times, completing the rite.
On the third repetition, a gust of wind from an open window made the candle
flicker and the picture in her mind wavered, then changed from the fantasy
pirate of her erotic dreams to the repressed Armani-suited image of her
nightmares.
Instead of a lusty hero come to sweep her away into a deeply satisfied happily
ever after, she saw a certain frozen-faced, suit-wearing, buttoned-down, aloof
and austere, emotionally and sexually withholding lawyer.
Lucy swore, blew out the candle, and scattered the herbs on the altar with one
impatient hand. “Thanks for nothing,” she muttered, instead of the traditional prayer of
gratitude.
And she’d been so sure nothing could go wrong this time. She was a terrible
witch. She couldn’t do the simplest spell.
Was a man who wanted her too much to ask for? Why had she seen Mitch, a
man she knew perfectly well found her completely resistible?
So much for love spells. Maybe she should try a dating service, instead.
Frustrated and defeated, Lucy stalked down the hall to her bedroom, yanked
off her clothes and left them in a heap on the floor, climbed into bed and
hauled the covers up over her head. She was more than ready for this day to
be over.
Sleep came eventually.
The firm masculine hand that closed over Lucy’s mouth brought her abruptly
out of her fitful dream and into a waking nightmare.
Her heart pounded as she stared into the eyes of a stranger, his face
obscured by a dark mask that left only his mouth and chin exposed. The rest
of him disappeared into the shadows and Lucy realized he must be dressed
all in black.
How had he gotten in? Her eyes left his and went to the open window she’d
forgotten to close. She let out a muffled groan at her own stupidity.
She forced herself to look directly at him again, to meet those eyes that
glinted in the moonlight. She brought her hand up to shove his aside and free her
mouth to speak.
“You don’t want to do this,” she said. Be cool. Be in control. Be firm. “You
won’t be able to undo that much bad karma in this lifetime.”
“Oh, but I do,” he answered, leaning forward until the mask touched her nose.
“I do want to do this.”
Then his hard slash of a mouth closed over hers. Lucy lay frozen between
shock and a nagging sense of something not quite right, a piece of the puzzle
she was missing in her barely-awaken fog.
That voice. She knew it. She’d heard it earlier today.
It was Mitch’s voice. Mitch Davis, Mr. Straight Arrow Attorney. A man who
would rather pass her the salt than make a pass. A controlled, dignified man
who wouldn’t be caught dead dressing up like a cat burglar and breaking into
a woman’s bedroom in the middle of the night to ravish her.
But then, maybe Mitch had hidden depths. Mitch had never kissed her before,
either. He was certainly kissing her now. Hungrily. Urgently. Like a dieter
who’d broken under the strain of prolonged denial and gone for the forbidden
double fudge brownie with single-minded fervor.
She dragged her mouth free of his long enough to gasp out, “Mitch?”
Her wrists were trapped easily by strong hands and her lips were recaptured
by his devouring kiss. “Shut up,” he growled against her lips as they parted in
amazement. “Just shut up and kiss me.”
Unable and mysteriously unwilling to do anything else, Lucy pushed aside all
the reasons why he was all wrong for her and kissed him back.
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