Humour in Writing – Sue Fortin

Posted on July 16, 2014 by wordsfromanneli

Whilst I don’t think I could write a rom com, I have noticed that humour finds its way into my writing without me realising it. It happens when the characters really take over and you find them saying things you hadn’t planned. It comes in different forms, depending on the character.

In my novel, “Closing In,” I used humour to end a love scene and a chapter. It wasn’t planned; it just seemed to appear on the page. I’ve had several people comment on it and how it made them chuckle. Overtones of a ‘Carry On’ film, I feel.

Excerpt from “Closing In”

The come-down was slower; gentle waves lapping over her body, her breathing levelled, her heart rate dropped and the dizziness subsided. Donovan was spent, exhausted, and lying half on her and half on the chaise. He kissed her cheek and brushed a strand of hair from her face.

‘Much as I love this chaise, it wasn’t built for two,’ he said.

‘Where do you suggest instead?’ asked Ellen making sure the kiss she gave left him in no doubt what she had in mind.

‘It’s king sized,’ he said between kisses.

‘I know that.’ She grinned. ‘Now, show me what size your bed is.’

Also from “Closing In” : This is probably closer to sarcasm than humour, but it suits the character of Carla – a bit caustic.

Excerpt:

The clunk of the receiver being slammed back into its cradle made Ellen jump. She heard Carla’s chair wheels squeak as they rolled over the carpet and before Ellen had time to react, Carla was yanking open the door.

She looked startled to see Ellen there but was quick to regain her composure.

‘Is there something I can help you with, Ellen?’ Her voice was the epitome of politeness but her eyes told a different story.

Ellen gulped. ‘Do you know what time Donovan will be back?’

Carla appraised her for a moment. ‘No, I don’t. These networking meetings can run on for some time. Is there something urgent that I can help with?’

‘No, it’s fine.’

‘Good. Now, if you don’t mind I’ve got work to do and I’d rather you didn’t lurk outside my office door like some sort of spectre. I know it’s Halloween, but still.’

“Closing In” is available at Amazon UK and Amazon.com

*****

“United States of Love” – Again, this just suited my character. It’s exactly how he spoke and the sort of expression he would use.

Excerpt:

‘Let’s sit down.’ He gestured towards the seats. ‘That’s better. Look, I was just out for a drink. I forgot you said you’d be here, but when I saw you with your client, I was, well, hurt.’

‘Hurt?’

‘Yeah, like shocked. Jealous, I suppose.’

‘Jealous?’

‘Blimey, Anna, it’s like having a conversation with an echo.’ Mark let out a sigh. ‘You know how I feel about you, I told you the other night. You said you were going to think about things. Since then you’ve avoided me like a dose of the clap.’

United States of Love is available at Amazon UK and Amazon.com

Turning Points – Nicky Wells

Posted on May 13, 2014 by wordsfromanneli

My guest today is an author you may recognize from a previous visit.

Nicky Wells is your ultimate rock chick author. Signed to US Publisher, Sapphire Star Publishing, she writes Romance That Rocks Your World, featuring the rock star and the girl next door… because there’s no better romantic hero than a golden-voiced bad boy with a secret soft heart and a magical stage presence!

Nicky’s books offer glitzy, glamorous romance with rock stars—imagine Bridget Jones ROCKS Notting Hill! If you’ve ever had a crush on any kind of celebrity, you’ll connect with Nicky’s heroes and their leading ladies.

Nicky loves listening to rock music, dancing, and eating lobsters. When she’s not writing, she’s a wife, mother, occasional knitter, and regular contributor at Lincoln’s Siren 107.3 FM. Rock on!

And a special news flash: ‘Sophie has now been nominated as Best Heroine in the eFestival of Books Awards 2014. Here is a “turning point” excerpt from one of the Sophie books, “Sophie’s Turn.”

Excerpt:

I found myself dialing her number before I could give it any further thought. I was desperate. This was an emergency.

She answered after the fourth ring, sounding sleepy and anxious.

“Rach,” I burst out. “I’m sorry to wake you. I’m desperate. Girlie emergency. Can I talk to you?”

All of a sudden, I cried again. All the pent-up anxiety and frustration came out without warning, and the relief at having caught Rachel on the other end of a phone line didn’t help matters either.

“Sophie,” she mumbled, suppressing what sounded like a monster yawn. “What time is it?”

“About one, your time. It’s two here. I’m in Paris. In a hotel. On my own, for the moment.”

“Right,” came her sleepy response. “What’s up?”

“I’m engaged to be married,” I announced. I needed to wake her up, and fast.

“I know that,” she muttered, now sounding slightly cross. “Except I thought you were having second thoughts?”

“I’m engaged to be married,” I clarified with emphasis, “to Dan.” I paused. “To Dan, as well as to Tim.”

There was a clatter and a shriek at the other end, and then some frantic clawing noises and a suppressed swear word. If my interpretation was right, she had just dropped the phone and knocked over a glass that had sat innocently on her bedside table.

“You. Are. Kidding.” She was finally back on the line and, as I had intended, now fully awake. “Please tell me you are kidding.”

“I kid not.”

I gave her an edited version of events and I could sense her excitement through the wire.

She kept a long silence after I finished. Eventually, she asked the million dollar question: “Now what?”

“That’s why I’m calling,” I informed her. “I don’t know. But I’ve just realized something.” I paused dramatically. “And I need your advice.”

“Go on,” she coaxed.

“You’re going to laugh at me. After all this time, you are going to laugh at me,” I warned her.

“What is it?” she demanded.

“I’ve just realized that I don’t love Tim. Never have. At least, I don’t think I ever have. I don’t really know. I think I was in love with the idea of him, the idea of our relationship, the idea of our life together. Does that make any sense?”

Rachel did me the favor of remaining completely serious.

“Absolutely. That makes a lot of sense.” There was not a hint of “I told you so” there, and I welled up again in gratefulness for having such a wonderful friend.

“But,” I continued, “I don’t know if I love Dan, either. I mean, how could I ‘know’, I mean?” I didn’t talk much sense, so I tried to put more coherence into my thoughts.

“After all, I have lusted after this man since I was nineteen, never mind he’s ten years my senior. Because that’s what teenagers do. He was like a dream. And when I first met him, it was like a dream come true. Having him woo me, romance me, and make love to me…that, too, was like a dream come true.”

I halted. “You still there?”

“Sure am,” Rachel confirmed. “Just listening.”

I took a deep breath. “I think Dan obviously gives me something that Tim isn’t giving me. And whatever that is—I haven’t quite worked it all out yet—but whatever it is, it’s obviously important to me. But does that mean I love him? How do I know?”

Nicky’s books: Sophie’s Turn | Sophie’s Run | Sophie’s Encore | Spirits of Christmas

Did you know? There’s a single out now by Nicky’s fictional rock band Tuscq come to life! “Love Me Better” is available for download from Amazon, iTunes and many other places.

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Turning Points – Carol E. Wyer

Posted on May 6, 2014 by wordsfromanneli

Meet today’s guest, author Carol E. Wyer.

Carol writes light-hearted humorous fiction and non-fiction aimed at those who wish to grow old disgracefully. Recent books caught the attention of the media and with the release of Grumpy Old Menopause, she appeared on BBC Breakfast television, over thirty radio shows, and now makes regular appearances on BBC Radio Derby as a Loud Mouth. (I can’t imagine why!)

Carol says:

My novels are full of twists and turns so it’s difficult to say they have one turning point. In reality there will be several moments where the reader will raise his eyebrows in surprise (I hope). Just Add Spice is one of those. It’s about Dawn, a middle-aged woman, who joins a writer’s group full of eccentric characters-and a young man who has a keen interest in her- in order to learn how to best write her first novel. She is advised to make her character as credible as possible by thinking and behaving like them. That’s fine, except her character, Cinnamon Knight, is an avenging Lara Croft type, out to exact revenge on every badly behaved male she encounters and who will happily murder them if necessary. Gradually, Cinnamon Knight begins to take over her creator, or has she always been there lurking in the depths of Dawns’ soul?

Through writing, Dawn discovers her own true identity and soon realises that she has been blinkered to the truth behind her own marriage. The complexity of relationships, love, marriage, danger, lust and confusion are all within the pages of the novel which might make you wonder if you should inject some spice into your own life.

Here’s an extract:

It was very late when she went to bed having completed the latest chapter. Jim was fast asleep and didn’t hear her slip quietly between the sheets. He was making that puffing sound he usually made, just before he burst into rhythmical snores that would increase in decibels until Dawn felt like screaming. She was tired now. Her eyes were sore from staring at the screen and she needed some rest before Jim decided that it was time for them both to wake up.

He was one of those, “early to bed and early to rise” people. About five o’clock he would start to become restless in bed which would inevitably waken Dawn. He would then yawn noisily several times and huff as if he didn’t fancy another day on the planet. Some short time after that, he would throw back the covers and tumble out of bed, clumping about the bedroom, opening wardrobe doors noisily and then running the bathroom tap for ages and flushing the toilet several times, oblivious to Dawn who was still bleary-eyed from tiredness.

Age was creeping up on him. She glanced at him. Light cast from the digital alarm clock glowed blue across his face. His mouth was open and he was dribbling slightly. She prodded him gently in the side to encourage him to move off his back and onto his side, where he might not make that irritating puffing sound.

Dawn pulled the covers up to her chin and nestled into the warm of the duvet. The puffs turned into gentle rumbles. Dawn burrowed further under the duvet. The rumbles became louder. Dawn gave him a prod. The rumbles stopped. Dawn sighed and covered her head with the duvet. Sleep wasn’t far away. She edged towards it relaxing and welcoming the night which would envelop her and leave her refreshed. She began to drift, floating towards that comfortable oblivion.

She was woken from the almost dream-like state by an almighty snore. Jim was at full volume. She shook him gently. Nothing. He continued to snore. She tried to move him. No way. He was out for the count. She hid her head under the duvet and fumed. She needed some sleep for goodness sake. It was 3 a.m. She needed those two precious hours.

Cinnamon suddenly appeared from nowhere. She was in Dawn’s mind whispering to her. Cinnamon wouldn’t listen to this holy row. She’d give him a sharp kick. As soon as the thought entered her mind, Dawn’s leg shot out involuntarily and caught Jim’s sharply on the tender portion of his calf muscle. The snoring stopped instantly. Cinnamon winked at Dawn. Dawn snuggled down again. A few minutes later the rumbling began once more. Cinnamon leapt up and grabbed the Tempur pillow from under Dawn’s head. It was weighty and sank in the middle. Straddling Jim with her long strong legs, she placed the pillow over his head and prepared to hold it over his face. Dawn shook her head. Too much Cinnamon. He’ll suffocate. Cinnamon blew a strand of hair away from her nose, nodded and got off Jim. Dawn leant across and instead pinched Jim’s nostrils together until he started spluttering. As soon as he started coughing, she feigned sleep. Jim coughed some more, then rose to get a drink of water. When he got back to bed he turned over onto his side and dozed back off.

Dawn smiled quietly in the dark and held her thumb up to Cinnamon who disappeared again into the recesses.

Turning Points – Emma Calin

Posted on April 27, 2014 by wordsfromanneli

My guest today is author Emma Calin.

Emma Calin – novelist, philosopher, blogger, poet, would be master chef. A woman pedaling between Peckham & Pigalle, in search of passion & enduring romance.

Emma Calin writes romance novels and gritty short stories about love and survival in the 21st century. She has published a number digital and paperback books which are available from Amazon worldwide.

She blogs about her dual life in St-Savinien sur Charente, South West France and Romsey, a market town in England. She feels extremely lucky to be able to experience the world and life through these two, very different, lenses. She spends any time she can, when not writing, on her tandem exploring the countryside.

Emma also records and produces audio books and plays the trombone (although not at the same time).

Turning Point – Excerpt from Shannon’s Law by Emma Calin

Of course they traveled at the front of the cabin on wide leather seats. She relaxed and watched him working seriously on his laptop. This was a business trip after all. The absence of chatter somehow allowed a wordless blanket to wrap around them. As they walked from the plane an Italian official greeted them. They bypassed all customs and immigration checks as he showed the way to a waiting burnished motor launch. A couple of minutes later a bowing porter delivered their luggage and they set out across the still lagoon. The sky was white through to midnight blue and turning to rose. The sun brushed its last kiss before fleeing from the night. The scent was of the sea, summer heat, and humanity. The view ahead was a picture postcard. Slowly the Campanile grew larger as the onion-domed roof of the Cathedral of San Marco formed a silhouette against the hot pink sky.

She realized how little they’d spoken. They’d held hands, smiled, and let the presence of the other speak for itself. It was a quietness that was hard to kick-start into life. It had become a pause that had become a question. There was a depth in their simple presence together which their first new words mustn’t trivialize. Shannon knew that these coming words mustn’t fill their moment with chatter. She saw him look at her seriously several times as they sat in the back of the speeding launch. However they moved on from here would set the agenda of her life. She was sure of that. So far they had run headlong like playing children along a corridor towards a door which would either open, or not. They paused breathless and silent looking at each other. They were about to try the handle.

The launch slowed as they neared land. He stood and drew her up beside him. Now the shapes of the buildings of Venice were overpowering against the twilight. He tilted up her chin and kissed her with a soft urgency that left her breathless.

“Such beauty, and the view’s not bad,” he said.

Her mood lifted a little as they kissed again. Other vessels and gondolas were close by. His words had awoken her but had left a void longing to be filled.

“It doesn’t seem real, this city and being here with you.”

“You’re real enough. I don’t have the talent to dream you up.”

“Spencer….” she began, not knowing how she was going to continue.

“This is Venice, Shannon. I have no obligations or rule book here….”

He was fencing and probing. There was no need to crowd him. She studied his strong, handsome face. He was one man with one woman. The world could make whatever it would of the rest of their story. It would never be more or less than that. They were passing La Piazza San Marco and heading up into the wide mouth of the Grand Canal. Ahead was the fabulous church of Santa Maria Della Salute. They both stared into the dusk. The navigation lights of vessels were bright. A bridge spanned the canal ahead of them. She thought to ask its name but let it slide over their heads into the darkness. His arm was firm around her shoulders. She softened into him, willing him to understand his own strength through this metaphor of body against body. She closed her eyes. His voice came deep from his chest.

“I love you,” he said.

The evening of Venice sighed and surrendered into the arms of night. The weight of all the words unsaid lifted from her heart and she was free.

“I love you,” she answered.

“Do you? Do you really? I’d been so afraid to say—in case you ran from some fool.”

“I’ve loved you since we sat by the lake.”

“Yes, that was it for me too.”

“So we’re both fools not to know that such a thing could happen,” she said. “I’ve been fighting it because I couldn’t believe anyone else was as crazy as me.”

The door had opened and they had charged headlong into a new space. She hugged his waist as his arms folded her in to him. Her mind raced ahead. What was the destination of this love?

“Before I said it, it was the most difficult thing on earth to say. Now I’ve let it out, it’s the only thing I can say,” he said.

“If I love you then it’s total, my hugga-bear. There’s no way back from love or murder. The jealous beast is out.”

“Jealous of a man like me?” he said smiling.

“Grrrrrr,” she replied.

“I wouldn’t want any other kind of love.”

“There is no other kind of love,” she said.

They were at the Rialto Bridge. They clung together in a kiss, oblivious of its magnificence. The launch had cut its engine and was coasting. There were only their words.

“My man.”

“My woman.”

Emma Calin’s Links:

Amazon Universal Link: http://www.bookshow.me/shannons

Barnes and Noble Link: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/shannons-law-emma-calin/1118020965?ean=2940045552899

iTunes Link: https://itunes.apple.com/gb/book/shannons-law/id793730238?mt=11

Smashwords Link: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/395170

Goodreads Link: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18964441-shannon-s-law

Pinterest Page for Shannon’s Law:http://www.pinterest.com/emmacalin/shannons-law-launch-reveal-on-pinterest/

Facebook Page for Shannon’s Law: https://www.facebook.com/ShannonsLaw

Website for Shannon’s Law: http://emmacalin.wix.com/shannons-law

Emma Calin’s Website

Emma Calin’s Twitter

Emma Calin’s Facebook

Emma Calin’s Blog

About.me page: http://about.me/emmacalin

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4915751.Emma_Calin

Turning Points Series – Miriam Wakerly

Posted on April 25, 2014 by wordsfromanneli

My guest today is Miriam Wakerly.

Miriam launched Gypsies Stop tHere in Waterstones in 2008, the day after she retired. No Gypsies Served followed in 2010, as she felt there was more to say. To be self-published was pretty daring then!

This excerpt is from Miriam’s third novel, Shades of Appley Green, a heart-warming story that has nothing to do with Gypsies but is set in the same fictitious English village.

She lives in Surrey close to Hampshire with her husband, but hails originally from Tetbury, a small Cotswolds town that is local to Highgrove, home of Charles, HRH Prince of Wales and Camilla, Duchess of Cornwall. As well as Surrey villages, this lovely place helped inspire the sense of community that shines through in her novels.

***

We have been taking a closer look at turning points in a novel; a point after which nothing is the same for one (or all) of the main characters.

Miriam will share a “turning point” excerpt with us from one of her novels, Appley Green.

Excerpt:

Years after the event, Steph looks back in her diary to a point she is about to make a momentous decision, blaming herself for ever entering into this mistake of a marriage. How will she extricate herself and her children?

‘There’s a blackbird’s nest Barnaby has been watching closely while Faith is at school. It’s lodged in the woody tangle climbing up one side of the west wing.

“Look Mum! Is that the Daddy bird or the Mum one?” It strikes me he’s learning the concept of fatherhood in an unconventional way! We are watching the parent birds go back and forth with twigs and feathers and Barnaby is looking forward immensely to the day when the eggs will finally hatch. (All down to good parenting!) We can look down into it from Faith’s bedroom window and count the speckledy-blue-green eggs. I explained to Barnaby today how the tiny baby birds would be fed for a while before they could begin to fly. Barnaby runs around the house flapping his arms in a keen display of empathy.’

‘Small events help bed in my initial seeds of doubt. (I am turning poetic). This morning, Saturday, Richard decides to do a spot of tree pruning and casually mentions that he came across a nest that had fallen down with the detritus of branches resulting from his task. I wanted to beat him over the head with the axe still in his hand, as he stood there on the back terrace. I was sure I’d told him how excited Barnaby was about this nest, but he could not have heard or been in any way interested. Barnaby’s tears were hard to bear and, for Richard, rather tiresome.’

‘Last night, we lay in bed after having sex – it could hardly be termed making love as the act involves no affection from him, and no passion from me. He seemed content with this arrangement. Usually he turns straight over and slips into an untroubled sleep.

So it came as a shock when he said, “How long will it be before we have a baby, I wonder?”

I am on the pill. Absurdly, in retrospect, it never occurred to me that he would want to have children with me. His question came as more than a bit of a surprise, although I see now I am naïve and really pretty stupid; we’re married, he has none of his own and in theory the question was entirely natural. But we’re both living under different, unspoken, assumptions. He has never raised the subject before and he seems entirely lacking in paternal instincts, scarcely exchanging more than a few words in passing with either Faith or Barnaby. I could kick myself for being so blinkered, not appreciating this particular shortcoming of his before accepting his proposal – blindly, rashly, naively. I can detect no evidence of him understanding what children are, or are for! He must have been one himself, I tell myself.

I hesitated in my reply long enough for silence to supply a clear answer to his question.

I now fully realise that my own identity is slowly shrivelling, being eaten up and swallowed whole by this deceptively demanding husband of mine. My overall strategy must take a different course. I shall go back to work. Eventually I’ll escape this marriage from hell. How could I ever have entered into it?’