Looking Through A Writer's Eyes

How important is setting to a story? VERY. Especially in a mystery, where an unthinkable act has been committed and ordinary people, nice people, are forced to look at the dark side of human nature, into the most hidden corners of their own hearts and to confront secrets they try to hide–even from themselves.

The setting for my latest novel, LOVE AND NOT DESTROY, is a small town, as picture-perfect as anything designed by Walt Disney. There are clean streets, lined with small shops, illuminated by vintage lampposts hung with colorful flowering baskets. Walking along these streets are smiling, open-faced people, civil and friendly, seemingly in control of their destiny. Can anything be this perfect? As a writer, I hope not. More accurately, I won’t allow it to be. There’s no story in perfection. I’m compelled to seek the snake in Eden.

My eye sweeps Paradise’s horizon and rests on a hill to the south. There, I see the town jewel, the pride and joy of its citizenry: an imposing, castle-like edifice containing over 40,000 artifacts documenting their history. Here are the tools and the toys, the gadgets and gimcrackery that tell how these people became who they are. There’s an exhibit showcasing the healing arts, another that features articles of transportation and communication, and countless examples of ingenious contraptions man has devised to make life better. There’s a replica of an old-fashioned schoolroom, with a slate resting sweetly on a small desk. The museum is full of inspiring displays that show items of progress and light. How nice. How comfortable. But not quite my cup of tea. Let’s move on–to the very top level. There we find a gallows. Wonderful! Just what I was looking for. Could there be a more graphic reminder of humanity’s dark side?

Seeking a setting for my story, I find this juxtaposition of dark and light irresistible. I have to tinker with it, manipulate the sunshine and the shadow. I need to show how fine is the line between the two, how delicate the balance. How can I do this? I imagine our little town at the height of its perfection–a soft, sunny weekend in early May. Dogwood blossoms frame every view. Tulips nod on every lawn. The museum is at its most festive, all spruced up for Folk Fest. The civil, friendly people are in a celebratory mood, enjoying a well-earned holiday. A shout rings out: “Blood! It’s all over him.” Everything changes. The illusion of perfection is shattered–and the story begins.

Cruel? Maybe. I like to think of myself of a reasonably nice person, but as a writer, I love upsetting the applecart. I’m not alone in this. Think of all the stories set in amusement parks or empty theatres. It seems the brighter the setting, the more frightening it becomes when the lights are extinguished. Add a doll or a tiny kitten and it becomes even more threatening. Nothing produces a more delicious tingle down the spine than a scary setting. And there’s nothing more fun to create.

Author Interview: Holly Jacobs

What kind of questions does one ask of an author who has reached the 2,000,000-books-sold mark?  That’s the task at hand this morning as today’s Avalon Author interview features veteran Avalon Books and Harlequin SuperRomance author, Holly Jacobs.

Holly, thanks for joining us this morning.  Today’s interview is in conjunction with your latest Avalon Books release, Everything but a Mother, which is the fifth book in the Everything But… series.  Can you tell us a little about that book?

~Nana Vancy accidently cursed her family to bad weddings (in the first three books, Everything But a Groom, Everything But a Bride and Everything But a Wedding).  After she breaks the curse, she’s…well, bored.  And that’s how the second trilogy of the series was born.  In Everything But a Christmas Eve, she tried her hand at matchmaking with the help of her best friends.  Chaos ensued, but the couple got their happily-ever-after.  This book opens after that first couple’s wedding.  The three older ladies are looking for new victims…er, friends to help out and play matchmaker for.  Once again, chaos ensues in Everything But a Mother!  LOL

The heroine of this book, Heather Rayson, runs a community-based daycare in Erie, PA.  We all know that every good heroine has a teeny character flaw.  What is Heather’s?

Time for the Ladies . . . Regency Ladies from 1810 to 1820

Here’s a silhouette of the next two decades of fashion . . .

After 1810 the Neoclassical and Grecian styles waistlines began to drift downwards.

Sleeves were gathered, twisted, and tied, influenced by Romantic and Gothic designs. The “mutton leg” style, large at the top and tapering to the wrist, became popular. As the sleeve increased in bulk at the shoulder, so did the collar.

The decoration along the hems and necklines were becoming more extravagant. Layers of ruffles covered corded or flounced petticoats, added to the newly popular cone-shaped skirts. The hem cleared the ground, showing the feet and ankles.

I know, exposed ankles . . . that is very shocking!

Shawls were still popular. The spencer, which stopped at the waistline, and the pelisse with three capes were much in demand. These had long sleeves to the wrist and were high at the neck.

In addition to the more ornate styles, hats and hairstyles climbed higher to balance the widening skirts. Hair was ornamented with small artificial flowers, in bunches or wreaths, for full dress, and even in the house during the daytime.

Hair was worn parted in front, and made into puffs or curls which extended on either side of the face. In the back, it was drawn up, tight and smooth, from the nape of the neck and arranged in a high loop or bow at the top of the head. From this towered all sorts of decorations, such as feathers, flowers, and bows of ribbon.

I suppose one could grow accustom to this.

I have to confess that I’m partial to the much simpler, early 19^th century ladies’ fashions.

But this blue frock is lovely, is it not? I'm glad the period in which I write does not go beyond the '20s.

But I have to warn you . . .

This is where the 1830s fashion is headed!

ALONG FOR THE RIDE - Chapter Three

Here's the scoop: Several Avalon Authors have come together to write a novel for fun. Every author contributes one chapter. There is no pre-arranged plot; there are no rules except that we follow Avalon's guidelines of writing family-friendly material

In Chapter One, our heroine, Sonya, ran into trouble in Seattle when Stan, a handsome stranger, fell nose-first into his latte. In Chapter Two, Sonya revived Stan with mouth-to-mouth and found herself ... Wait, this is getting complicated. I suggest you read the first two chapters for yourself. Just click on "Avaloner Online Novel" in the column on the right.

ALONG FOR THE RIDE

Chapter Three

by Sandy Cody

(Sandra Carey Cody)

Mel was yelling in my ear to get out of there, but I couldn't move - not with Annie's eyes boring holes in my face. I was like a rabbit held captive in a snake's gaze.

The gaze shifted to a spot over my shoulder and the spell broke.

I turned to make my escape - and looked directly into another pair of eyes. What had Mel said? Something about a dark alley? Someone you wouldn't want to meet there? The guy who'd caught Annie's attention definitely fit that bill. I took a couple of side steps to put myself in a direct line with the door.

He sidestepped too. It was like we were dancing. I couldn't see what was happening behind me, but it sounded like Annie was closing in from the rear, turning the dance into a weird threesome.

Mel's voice escalated, "Get out of there!"

"I'm doing my best," I told her before I jammed the phone in my pocket. Instinct was screaming even louder than Mel, telling me I needed both hands free.

Instinct was right. As I rushed past, dance partner number one grabbed my arm. He almost ripped my coat off. I twisted, pulled the coat close, and managed to shake him off with enough force to send him sprawling on his backside. I didn't know exactly how close dance partner number two was and I didn't wait around to find out.

I made a beeline for the door. I heard Annie shout, "Wait!" Did I heed Annie's call? Are you kidding? I pushed the door open. Outside, under the store's awning, a sale table was lined up against the side of the building. I took a few precious seconds to pull the table, filled with rows of tiny multi-colored bottles, in front of the shop entrance. It sounded like an out-of-tune calliope as the bottles tipped against each other, but none of them fell off the table and, more important, exit from the Curiosity Shoppe was blocked, at least for the moment.

I darted an apologetic glance toward the woman huddled in a lawn chair under cover of the awning.

She hopped up and shook her fist like she wanted to beat me to a pulp.

Get in line, Lady.

I dodged around a young couple pushing a stroller and picked up the pace. The light at the end of the block went from orange to red. I ignored it. A chorus of squealing brakes and honking horns followed me into the next block. I cringed but kept going. If this went on much longer, I'd have everybody in Seattle mad at me. I couldn't worry about that now. I slogged on, splashing through the puddles on the sidewalk until I got a hitch in my side. I stopped, leaned against a building, and looked back for the first time since I'd left the shop. No sign of either Annie or the dark alley guy. That seemed a little strange. A good thing, but strange.