Helpless: 76 words that aren’t for NaNo (poem)

Helpless

By Michelle Garren Flye

 

I wish I could sing.

Glorious notes,

Beautiful arias.

Fill the room

With emotion.

Shout it out—

With melody.

 

I wish I could paint.

Dexterous strokes,

Shades of beauty.

Fill the walls

With truth.

Slash it on—

With skill.

 

I wish I could write.

Eloquent phrases,

Perfect words.

Fill the page

With wisdom.

Jot it down—

With brilliance.

 

But I can only scream.

Painfully.

Wretchedly.

Helplessly

Filling the world

With fire.

abstract art burnt color

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Writing is a funny, funny thing.

close up of hand over white background

Photo by Lum3n.com on Pexels.com

Funny weird, not funny ha-ha.

Funny in that when the fever is on you, you can write five to ten thousand words in a day.

Funny in that on those days, you don’t want to stop for anything.

Over the course of the past few days, I wrote the last fifteen thousand words of my next Sleight of Hand novel Dickens Magic. And then I started another one that I’m not ready to talk about yet. I’m now six thousand words into that one.

Writing is funny, but not exactly fun. While you’re in the fever, you’re aware of the other things you  need to be doing. But even though you’re not having fun, there’s no way you want to stop.

For instance, right now, I want to be back at work on my work-in-progress, but I knew I needed to stop by here and remind you that:

(a) Becoming Magic is out there now, just waiting for readers and reviewers. It has two reviews on Amazon and still sits at five stars.

(b) All my self-published books with the exception of Becoming Magic (because really, it’s a new release) are available in the Smashwords Summer Sale for FREE with coupon code SS100. Go get em!

With that said, I’m off to indulge myself some more in my funny, funny chose profession.

A New Kind of Romance: Changing the soul of romance literature

I just read a wonderful article in The New York Times by Alexandra Alter called “The Changing Face of Romance Novels”. The article addressed how romance novels are slowly changing to more accurately reflect the growing diversity in our world. However, Alter points out that many of the more diverse authors who write diverse romance must turn to alternative publishing outlets to get their books to readers as traditional publishing does not embrace change—at least not right away.

The article got me thinking. More diversity is a wonderful thing. More accurately reflecting the world we live in is invaluable. And yet, that doesn’t address what I see as the core problem in my genre the way my new kind of romance will. You see, though the face of literature definitely needs to change with changing times and audiences, the soul of romance must be addressed as well.

Gustave Flaubert said, “The art of writing is the art of discovering what you believe.” If the romance genre continues to explore the darker desires and pitfalls of humanity, is that what we romance authors believe love is all about? Is that what the publishing industry believes?

Isn’t it our duty as artists to illuminate the brighter side of love?

Yes, sex sells. It always has and always will. It sells books and clothes and cars. It sells candy and music. The publishing industry needs to take note, however, that you can’t just give the romance genre a facelift (even if it does need one). In today’s world, however, it is more important than ever to show through the romance genre that sexy does not need to include what women don’t want in their lives—whether that is controlling heroes, discrimination, assault or harassment of any sort.

 

 

Becoming Magic Release Day Reflections with Contest

IMG_3805I haven’t spent a great deal of time worrying about the release of Becoming Magic today, in spite of a glitch at Amazon that has prevented the Kindle version from being available. Oh well, that’s life.

No, instead, I’ve been participating in a Facebook moon photography “contest” hosted by a fellow author, Robert Beatty, author of the fantastic Serafina series. I love taking pictures of the moon, so I chimed in with my Juneau Moon, seen at the left.

Photography got me thinking about some of my other favorite things to photograph. My very favorite thing of all to photograph (besides my kids) are flowers. So, since I happen to have some very pretty roses sitting on my kitchen counter, I snapped a pic of one of those and posted it on Facebook. Because, hey, I’m a romance author, right? Red roses are my thing. I’m calling this one Kitchen Rose. (If you look hard at the bottom right corner, you can see breakfast.)

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And of course, no day would be quite complete without taking a picture of my cat. Her name is Calliope, who was the muse of poetry. She posed quite prettily for me with my daughter’s sneakers, but you can tell my floor needs sweeping!

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What’s your favorite thing to photograph? Do you have a favorite photo on your phone right now? Would you like to win a print copy of Becoming Magic? Visit my Facebook page here: Michelle Garren Flye, author and post your favorite picture of the moon, a pretty flower or your pet. I’ll choose my favorite and send you a print copy of Becoming Magic.

Release Day Warning: Amazon is a no go!

Sadly, Becoming Magic is NOT up in the Kindle store in spite of everything having been done right by me. I’ve sent them a message and hopefully it’ll be fixed within 24 hours. In the meantime, I’m sending everyone to Smashwords who have a lovely big sale going on in which ALL of my other books have a 100% off coupon (SS100) for the month of July only. And Becoming Magic is only $2.99, so you could catch up on all the Sleight of Hand books for the single price of $2.99—who wouldn’t want to do that? Check it out here: Smashwords Summer Sale!

Happy Birthday, Becoming Magic! Time for a new kind of romance.

pile of covered books

I pray I am not shouting into the whirlwind of too many voices this time. Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Happy birthday to my newest baby, Becoming Magic! It’s high time for this book. In a world with so much denigration of women, it’s past time for the genre of books most heavily written by women to honor what women really are.

We are powerful.

We are beautiful.

We are creative.

We are romantic.

We are sexy.

We are strong.

Does anyone want to deny any of the above? As a member of the “lesser” sex, I can say honestly that the only reason I can see that we were ever called that is so men can make us think less of ourselves. We’ve been victims long enough. It’s time to rise up and recognize the men who actually appreciate what women really are.

They are equal partners.

They are not afraid of us.

They are willing to treat women as equals.

They are romantic.

They are sexy.

They are strong.

Please notice that I didn’t say they are dukes or melancholy or macho or sadists. All except the last could, possibly, be part of who they are, but as women, it’s time to defy the melancholy, macho, duke hero who practices S&M. We know what we want, and it doesn’t include rape.

That’s what a new kind of romance is all about. Please try out my new kind of romance, Becoming Magic. You can find the first chapter here. Read it. If you enjoy it, download the whole book at your favorite ebook retailer. The paperback version should be available soon.

Read it.

And then tell me what you think.

Dear God, may this book please not be lost in the shuffle of many. May it not be caught up in a whirlwind of other voices that drown it out. May it please make it to the eyes of the readers who need it. In your name I pray, Amen.

Love,

Michelle

Three Days to Becoming Magic: Magic Numbers and Jack’s Beans

It’s three days to the publication of Becoming Magic and today I started thinking how in folk stories, three is magical and that number has entered our own lives in ways we might not really notice at first. Jack had three magic beans. The first time I pitched a book to a literary agent (someday I’ll write about this rather painful memory), he asked for three things: a 3-page synopsis, the manuscript and proposals for three more books.

I can’t help but wonder if Jack had five magic beans would I have been asked for a five-page synopsis? And five more book proposals?

At any rate, I’m hoping the magical number three will work for me today. I’m going to post three excerpts from Becoming Magic. And if the day is as magical as Jack’s beans, you’ll be intrigued enough to climb the Becoming Magic beanstalk to find the treasure.

Excerpt #1:

She gathered her notes and then slapped them back on the table, turning to him. “Look. We’re obviously going to be working together since there’s no talking my bosses out of this, so let’s lay down a few ground rules.”

He sat back in his chair. “Go ahead.”

“I know you’re a big movie star and you’re probably used to getting your way with women without even having to work for it, but let me just tell you here and now, there’s nowhere to get with me. I’m not looking to get laid, and your charming ways are not going to work with me. Okay?”

A light frown creased his handsome forehead. His eyes were very serious and he nodded. “Noted.”

In a probably vain attempt to keep from looking too vulnerable, she forced herself to take a deep breath. “I would also like to say that I don’t like dirty jokes. They make me uncomfortable and are mostly just rude, not funny.”

The frown on his forehead had deepened. But he just nodded. “Got it.”

“And finally, I don’t like to be touched. I’m not going to let you touch me to further my career, and I don’t care if you fire me. So don’t go for the brush-the-boob casual move or the light hand on my back or pinching my butt or whatever. None of it. I don’t enjoy it and if I don’t enjoy it, you have no right to enjoy it.”

He sat for a moment after she finished speaking, his expression very sober. Then he stood. For a moment, she thought he would just walk out of the room and she wondered what would happen if he went to Sabrina or Walt with what she’d just said. Her heartbeat pounded in her chest, thundering against her ribcage. But she raised her chin in defiance. If she was going to be working in Hollywood again, she was damn well going to do it her way.

He didn’t leave the room, however. After a moment, he asked politely, “Was there anything else?”

She’d expected indignation. His polite acceptance took her by surprise. “Umm, no.”

“Then we can get to work.” He held out a hand and she took it, bemused. He shook her hand and dropped it. “One condition of my own, however. I’d appreciate not being lumped into the same category as an abuser when I don’t think I’ve earned it.”

Excerpt #2:

“What were you feeling right then?”

“Right then?” He studied the screen. “Betrayed, I think. She was supposed to accept the rose. She was supposed to kiss me and later, she was supposed to make love to me. Because it was magic.” He shrugged, then glanced at her. “Sorry, was that too much information?”

“Maybe a little, but I did ask.” She watched onscreen Connor walk away—toward his trailer, probably.

“Why did you ask?”

“Why did you answer?” She countered him neatly, then hit the pause button. “But since you did, I’ll answer your other question. Yes. There are so many things I’d cut from my life if I had a delete button. Things that I worry not only delayed my reaching my eventual goal but may actually prevent it.”

“Like what?”

She hesitated, again torn between blurting out her whole sordid story and hiding it away in the dark reaches of her soul. Hiding won. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

He reached across and caught her hand. “That’s not really fair.” His thumb caressed her knuckles. “I told you mine.”

“Your what?” Her heart pounded in her throat.

“My secret. My too much information. It’s only fair if you share yours.”

Why did his lightest touch set her skin afire? It was so hard to think. And whatever the wine was, it must have a much higher alcohol content than she was used to. Or maybe he’d refilled it more often than she’d thought. At any rate, she felt like everything pleasant was intensified—like the feel of his light caress—and everything unpleasant had faded to the background. How much did Hollywood even matter, anyway?

She answered herself almost instantly, jerked back to reality by her need to conceal her too much information. “It’s not the same thing.”

“How so?” He closed his fingers over hers.

“I—mine isn’t so pleasant. Even yours is romantic and sweet. You just wanted her to love you as much as you loved her. But mine is—not that.”

Excerpt #3:

“How do you do that, anyway?”

“Do what?” He blinked innocently.

“Charm everyone. Her. The waitress the other night. Sabrina and Walt—”

“Oh, if you’d heard the talking to Walt gave me about none other than little old you, you’d know he’s not so charmed.”

“Oh, he’s charmed. But anyway, other people. People you’ve never even met like my sister. They’re all so taken with you. I don’t get it.”

“Well, that’s flattering.” He quirked an eyebrow at her.

She laughed a little. “I mean, I do get it. Sort of. But you and I—well, we know each other a little better, don’t we? It’s not like we’re passing acquaintances and I’m already charmed by you. I mean…”

She trailed off, but he nodded understanding. “Yes, that’s true. We’ve both seen a little of what makes each other tick. You’re wondering how others can see I’m someone worth investing in.”

“Well, yeah.” She shrugged. “For want of a better way of putting it.”

He paused, thinking. “I believe it’s like anything. It’s like picking up a book by an author you’ve never read before and deciding you want to read it. Or even listening to a song all the way through. You don’t know you’re going to like it. You might even hate it. But you sort of judge it from the beginning notes of the song or the first line of the book. I’ve got a good beginning note, I guess.”

She smiled. “I like that way of putting it. Like choosing a dessert. I can tell from the smell that you have some ingredients I like.” Her glance caught his and she felt her face heat up a little as she realized what she had said. “Or something like that.”

Thanks for reading. Hope your day is magical!