I had the privilege of interviewing Michael Hauge via Skype recently, and today I am thrilled to share this interview with you on the RWA blog. Michael will be visiting Australia in March when he presents his Advanced Story Mastery seminar, which is sure to be a valuable day for all writers wanting to give their stories the structure, emotion, and authenticity needed to be successful.
Archive for February, 2012
This is from my WIP Lady Caro’s Accidental Marriage. She’s been very ill and her fever has fluxuated from too high to too low. In order to keep her warm, Lord Huntley (they’re married now but in name only) decides to sleep with her. So the fever has broken and here is Caro, over analyzing why his hand is on her buttock.
The sounds of china clinking woke Caro. She was surprised to find her head and one hand on Huntley’s chest. And though the bed hanging was closed, her first thought was how improper being with him was. Then she remembered she was married and she’d asked him to join her in bed. One of his hands held her buttocks anchoring her securely against him. His slow steady breathing whistled in a soft snore. The hand felt—well—how did she feel about the hand? It was warm and oddly comforting. But why was the hand there? Was it convenient because it stuck out and thus made a good handhold? Or was it because he had long arms and it was more comfortable than resting his hand on her waist? He stirred and the hand tightened a little and drew her closer. Definitely a handhold.
Guys are simple… women are not simple and they always assume that men must be just as complicated as they are, only way more mysterious. The whole point is guys are not thinking much. They are just what they appear to be. Tragically.
I loved this so much, I tweeted it. Lately, in both my MSs and those of other writers, we have critique partners asking, buy why does he love her? There has to be a reason for the hero to fall in love with the heroine. So we make up reasons. She’s beautiful, intelligent, kind, funny, anything to justify the attraction. But the plain fact of the matter is that’s X chromosome thinking. Most men can’t tell you why they fell in love. I asked my husband of twenty-eight years why he loved me and got a deer in the headlights look. So then I gave him prompts and he agreed with all of them. Fortunately, I didn’t say anything bad about myself.
So I challenge you. Ask your significant other, it has to be a guy for this experiment, why he loves you. What is the very first expression on his face, before he has time to think? If he says, because I like your buttocks, I want to know that as well. Are other Alpha males like my husband or is he just strange.
I’m about to tear my hair out. I forgot to blog for over a week and now I have blog-block. On the other hand, many of my friends have been posting wonderful blogs and I’ve been madly dashing from one to the other leaving comments or trying to. That’s whole other issue, Blogger wanted cookies and for some reason didn’t ask for them, so I was unable to leave comments for over a week.
Because I’m unable to come up with anything particularly witty or provocative, in an intellectual way, I’ve posted the first paragraph from my WIP, Lady Caro’s Accidental Marriage. I hope you enjoy it, even if it is a first draft.
Early October, 1816, Padua, Italy
Gervais, Earl of Huntley, followed Lady Caroline Martindale up the narrow stairs of an inn in Padua, Italy. He was enjoying the view of her lush derrière when she glanced back over her shoulder and glared. He gave her the most innocent look he possessed and she stopped, causing him to almost, but not quite, make contact with the object in question.
Lady Caro closed her eyes briefly and clenched her jaw. “My lord, perhaps I should follow you up the stairs.”
He started to bow then realized that if he did, he’d be so close he could kiss her derrière. She must have had the same thought as she hastily backed against the wall, thus removing the tempting sight. He stifled a sigh and climbed past her. “Thank you, my lady.”
She inclined her head stiffly. “My lord.”
Huntley directed her to the room at the end of the hall, he took another chamber at the head of the stairs. If the Duca di Venier or his grandson came looking, he’d be there to greet them. Her maid and his valet had the chambers between Lady Caro’s and his. Huntley didn’t think he’d be returning to England so soon after he’d left on his tour of Europe. But all was not well when he arrived at his aunt’s house in Venice a few weeks ago.