Carol Chance

Today I'm delighted to have Carol Maclean with me. Carol has a new book out with Astraea.Press,
'Wild for Love.'  www.astraeapress.com. Her blog is carolmacleanblogspot.co.uk
'Wild for Love' is available at Amazon as well.

Something that fascinates me is how an author finds their characters so I asked Carol to tell me how she does this
.

Do you start with you characters or your plot?

It depends. Each story is different - sometimes a character will come to me fully formed and I then weave a story round them. However for 'Wild For Love' I had the plot in mind and then came up with the characters - they had to have opposing viewpoints so they could clash over the environmental issues raised in the story. So Polly (an Ecologist) and Jake (a property developer) were born.

Do you write a biography of all your character/main only/none?

I write a brief biography of all the characters. I find if I make it too detailed I get bored with them and don't want to write their story. As I write, I find things out about them and they develop and change in ways that at the start, I might not have imagined!

Do you base your characters on a real person/film actor etc or are they entirely imaginary?

They are mostly conjured up from my imagination. I never use actors to base them upon although I admit to a lot of people-watching on a daily basis and if someone's interesting enough, then an attribute may be used in a character.

Do you cut photos out of magazines to use as your main characters?

Never - I can see my characters quite clearly in my mind. I don't need a photo.

Do you see your characters or only hear them or both? 
I see and hear them - when I'm working on a chapter it's like a film set - I can see the action and hear the dialogue.

How many characters do you think are too many for a book to work?

Probably two main characters (heroine and hero) and three or four minor characters are enough. In 'Wild For Love' Polly's sister Lou and her husband Ian are having marital difficulties which are dealt with sensitively and resolved during the book - they are there so that Polly can reflect on the nature of love and learn for herself what real love means. Jake's mother is an important character too for Jake to learn to grow up and move on to what he really wants out of life.

We've all read stories where there are so many characters we have to flick back through the book to remember who they are! I don't want that to happen in my stories.

How do you make your characters individual? Accent? Catch phrases? Mannerisms? Other things?

I use catch phrases and mannerisms to some extent but I do try to be careful not to make the characters charicatures. I may use accents occasionally but I find a bit of local dialect goes a long way! The best thing to do is read out dialogue from the story and see if it works. Can I distinguish who is speaking from cadence and choice of words? If not, I've failed and have to try harder to individualise them.

Do you write with multi-view point/deep third/first/omnipotent/narrator –or a combination of these?

I write in third person but swop POV (Point of View) between the heroine and hero as the plot devlops.

How often do your characters run away with your plot?

Quite a lot. As the characters develop and mature the shape of the plot naturally changes. That's fine, I don't have a problem with that. The end of a book is always in the mist anyway when I start off.

Would you ever kill a main character/child/animal/villain?

I haven't yet but it's a possibility in the future....

In your opinion which is more important –plot or character?

For romance, most definitely character. The plot comes from the interaction between the heroine and her hero.

That's great, Carol. Thanks for giving us an insight into the way you work.

Wild For Love:

Polly is an ecologist, passionate and uncompromising about wildlife rights. Against her better judgment she falls in love with Jake, heir to a London media empire, whose development company is about to destroy a beautiful marsh. Can love ever blossom between two such different 

What is a good book?

With all the media attention surrounding '50 Shades of Grey'  and the huge number of destructive reviews for this book I thought I'd ask the question. 'What is a good book?'
I haven't read 50 Shades of Grey or the sequels but I have read several of the blogs which deconstructed the book and it would appear there are serious flaws in the writing style, the plot, and characterization. Therefore I could conclude that this isn't 'a good book'.
However this book has sold more than 3 million copies and is still selling well. Some of these sales could be accounted for by media hype, but the majority of readers  have bought this book must have bought it because they want to read it. If the reviews are true then millions of readers are enjoying 'a bad book'.
This is obviously nonsense. For so many people to be reading  this book it must be a good read - or 'a good book'. It might not be a well written book but it is certainly, in my opinion, 'a good book'.
I think books written in the first person present are unreadable but his doesn't make them 'bad books'.  I also find Jeffrey Archer and Dan Brown unreadable but they sell millions so their novels can be defined as 'good books'.
After all the majority of authors write books they want people to read. The more that buy their books the happier they are. The sales are what counts, not the number of rave reviews in national newspapers.
I have three reasons for writing. One: because it's what I do. Two: to entertain my readers. Three: to make  money.
I'm not sure James is writing for anything apart from the money - but that's another story.
What do you think if the definition of a good book? I'd be interested to hear your views.
best wishes
Fenella

Available on Amazon Kindle

I'm thrilled to tell you that my first YA romantic fantasy TRUTH is now available on Kindle. I'm writing as Jane Miller to avoid confusion with my Regency romances
.

Orla Bennett is a normal, seventeen year old sixth-former. She is worried about changes in her own behaviour and feelings. She meets a strange young man in a glimmering coat and this leads to the revelation she is a faerie with incredible powers. She is needed to save her people from imminent threat.  Mike, the boy she loves, and her friends join her on the challenging and dangerous mission. Orla is facing not only the very real dangers of the fight against The Others but a stark choice between remaining in the human sphere with those she loves or moving irrevocably to the faerie side. Truth is the first in the three book series GLIMMERING.

This is a new venture for me and I'm hoping a few of you might decide to read it. At less than a pound it's a bargain!

Many thanks

Fenella (Jane Miller)

The Duke's Reform

The Duke's Reform  - £1.01
Kindle

I'm delighted to tell you that my first self-published book, on Kindle, The Duke's Reform, is now available for download.
It is a full length book -not a novella.
This is a new story - has not appeared anywhere else - and is my first Regency with a higher 'heat' level.

Here is an extract - hope you enjoy it.

Prologue

1805

'Your grace, shall I remove the tray?'

Alex glanced over his shoulder at the butler hovering anxiously behind him. 'Take it, I've no appetite.' He turned back to staring morosely over the park. Once this view had pleased him, now it meant nothing. Without Eleanor and the girls Newcomb was an empty shell, no longer a home.

            He rubbed his hand over his jaw. He must look like a brigand. His clothes were in little better state than his person. Grief at the death of his wife and daughters had all but overwhelmed him. He was rudderless— like a ship in a storm buffeted this way and that, unable to find a direction to guide him to safety.

            What day was it? How long had it been since his life had been torn apart? Weeks perhaps? Visitors no longer called to leave their cards of sympathy. No doubt someone had dealt with them, written suitable replies. He had not married Eleanor for love, but had come to love her as the years passed. With her at his side he had been happy, able to forget his miserable upbringing and make this mausoleum into a happy place.

 All that was over. He would not make the same mistake—far better to remain aloof. He vowed never to love again and to remain safe, with his emotions hidden. To experience such pain a second time would surely kill him. Sometime in the future he would have to marry; he must provide an heir, but would make sure he selected a suitable girl and not one who would expect him to love her. All he could offer his next bride was affection, respect and his title.

He would abandon this place, his ancestral seat, and remove to London and crowd his days with pointless activities until he was himself again. Decision made, he strode from the study and

shouted for his valet. The sooner he was gone the better. Newcomb held nothing but sadness for him. His loyal staff must come with him to Grosvenor Square—with familiar faces around at least he could be sure his household would run smoothly without his interference.

He yawned and rubbed his unshaved jaw. If he was not the last in line he would get up a

regiment of his own and join Wellington in Spain. Fighting for King and country might help to fill the hole the loss of his beloved wife and children had made in his life.

Chapter One

Grosvenor Square

1810

Alex glared at his lawyer. How dare he have the temerity to interfere with his life? 'Dewberry, you forget yourself. When I take a wife is entirely my concern, kindly don't forget that.'

            'Forgive me, your grace, but I owe it to your father to speak plainly. Your dissolute lifestyle these past five years is a matter of grave concern. If you are determined to destroy your health in this way then could I ask you to find yourself a suitable wife and set up your nursery before matters overtake you?'

            'I have no wish to marry again, I have nothing to offer apart from my title and wealth. I cannot expect a young woman to accept me as I am.' Dewberry's look of astonishment almost made him laugh. 'The sort of woman who would be satisfied with just that is not someone I would wish to bear my children.'

            'There are dozens of eligible young ladies in the marriage mart this year who would think themselves fortunate to be selected by yourself. You are a handsome man, if you will forgive me for saying so, your grace, and in your prime.'        

'On the outside perhaps, but I no longer have it in me to be a caring partner. It would be a marriage of convenience; my wife would have to understand it will be a business arrangement. She to provide me with children and I, in return, to keep her in luxury for the rest of her life.'

He yawned, it had been a late night and he had not yet been to bed. The black crow was staring at him expectantly, he'd get no peace until he agreed.

            'I shall do as you suggest.'

            The elderly lawyer beamed. 'I should be happy to arrange for you to meet suitable young

ladies, there are several debutantes who would be ideal.'

God's teeth! 'I shall do my own selecting, Dewberry.' He raised one eyebrow. 'I do not

expect my search to become common gossip.'

            The man coloured. 'Of course not, your grace. Anything that is said in my chambers remains confidential. However, your appearance at Almacks …'

'Almacks? I'd rather have my teeth pulled them go there. I shall attend a few functions and see for myself what is on offer.'

            He strode from the office determined to get away from Town. Whatever Dewberry said matchmaking mamas would soon be on the lookout. He didn't want to go to Newcomb, he would go to Norfolk and do some shooting. Keep his head down until he was obliged to appear in public when the Season started in March. He'd find a few cronies to accompany him, there were always fellows willing to follow his lead as long as he picked up the bill.

****

Norfolk

Lady Isobel Drummond stormed out of the library. To be ignored by her parents unless they

required her assistance with her many younger siblings was one thing, to be told it was her duty to marry a wealthy man in order to save the family from ruin, was quite another.

            Gathering her dogs from the kitchens she snatched up her cloak and pushed her feet into the wooden clogs she used for gardening. She had to get out, get away from the house, give herself time to recover her composure. She paused, she would dearly love to run upstairs and change into her habit. A wild gallop across the Fens was exactly what she needed, but that would mean risking meeting her weeping mother and furious father. No, far better to walk.

            Othello and Ebony barked and raced around her in circles, as eager as she to be away from Drummond Hall. It was a blustery November day, a hint of snow on the wind whipped from the sea. Thank God she did not have to make a decision about going to London to join her aunt and uncle for the season until after Christmas.

            Deep in contemplation she failed to hear the rattle of a carriage approaching at speed. Ebony barked sharply and she looked round. Instinct made her throw herself prone, her bladder almost

emptied as a team of horses, followed by the wheels of the carriage, thundered above her. For a

moment she was unable to move, shock rendering her almost insensible. Then righteous

indignation flooded through her and she pushed herself onto her knees. She came face-to-face with a veritable giant, and not a particularly friendly one at that.

            'God's teeth, woman, what the hell do you think you're doing wandering down the middle of highway? I could have killed you.'

            Spitting mud in his direction she glared back into his furious face. 'Are you insane, sir? This is not a toll road but a country lane. What would you have done if there had been a flock of sheep across your path?'

            In answer he reached out and hauled her to her feet, then dropping to his knees, with firm hands brushed off the worst of the debris from her person. At every touch she flinched, unused to any gentleman taking such liberties. For some reason her anger dissipated to be replaced by a strange internal heat that followed the path of his fingers. She found herself gazing down at his dark hair which curled intriguingly over the collar of his many caped coat.

            Enough was enough. 'Desist at once, sir, I have no wish to be manhandled by you. I am quite capable of removing the dirt for myself. You had best look to your team, your carriage is in imminent danger of tipping into the ditch.'

His head shot up; his eyes were a peculiar shade halfway between blue and black, his nose

patrician and his lips mobile. Warmth spread across her breasts and into her face. She could not

tear her glance away; she was pinned like a butterfly on a board by the glitter in his eyes. Then it was gone and he was towering above her.

            'Dammit! Out of the way, madam, haven't you done enough damage already this morning?'

            The spirited team stamped and tossed their heads in impatience and the rear wheel of the vehicle began to slide inexorably backwards. Without thinking, she raced to the lead horse and

snatched the bit. The gentleman shouted from behind the carriage.

            'Good girl, move them forwards as rapidly as you can.'

Ignoring his instructions, she was well able to handle his horses without his highhanded

intervention, she urged the chestnut sideways, following her instincts. Going this way would move the wheel away from danger far more efficiently. The team threw their weight into the traces and the carriage shot forward removing the wheel from danger. Unfortunately the irascible gentleman fell headlong into the ditch instead.

            The air was blue, she thought it wise to absent herself as hastily as possible. Quickly checking the brake was on and the reins securely tied around the pole, she prepared to creep away. Although it wasn't her fault he'd fallen, no doubt he would blame her for his foolhardiness as he had done before.

            She prepared to make a run for it. Too late! A dripping figure emerged from behind the horses and strode towards her. She couldn't help herself; her scream echoed down the lane. Suddenly two black shapes hurtled past and for the second time the unfortunate gentleman was tipped backwards into the noxious water.

            Not waiting to see him emerge and seek revenge on the person who was responsible for dumping him twice into the ditch, she raced full pelt down the lane. She scrambled over a five

barred gate and tore across the meadow scattering cows in all directions in her head long flight. Her dogs were beside her, tongues lolling out, obviously delighted with the game.

****

Alexander shook his head, sending foul water in all directions. He scraped the muck from his eyes and watched his quarry vanish down the lane. Who the devil was she? Dressed like a servant but quite obviously gently born. She was a conundrum. He stepped out of the ditch and propped himself against the carriage wheel in order to remove his boots and tip out the water.   It was fortunate they no longer fitted him as snugly as they'd used to.

            He tossed his sodden cape on to the box and stared gloomily at his ruined topcoat. The blue

superfine jacket had cost him a pretty penny and it, like the rest of his garments, was quite beyond salvage. The young woman was right to castigate him, he had been driving far too fast. He shrugged, he seldom drove any other way, caring little if he came to grief. However, he had no wish to take anyone else with him if he went, and certainly not the lovely young termagant he'd just encountered.

            He checked his horses were none the worse their experience and then leaped into his carriage and recovered the reins. His breeches were so wet he slid from side to side as the curricle gathered speed. He had no option, unless he wished to nosedive over the edge he must return to his hunting box at a walk.

            best wishes
Fenella

Kindle - good or bad?

I was thinking about digital publishing and the impact it has had on both readers and writers and decided to write something about this.
I bought a Kindle last year and initially downloaded mainly free books, most of which I deleted without reading them. Being able to have the complete works of Charles Dickens for nothing doesn't mean I'm actually going to read them.
Next I discovered Donna Leon and downloaded all her books. I remember staying up late to read Kate Johnson's 'The Untied Kingdom' and being absolutely riveted by the first in the Voyager series by Diana Gabaldon. I couldn't understand why it took me so long to finish this book, I'm a very fast reader, until I realised it had over 900 pages.
I've bought a dozen or more young adult fantasy but only read a couple. When they are less than a pound I don't bother with the extract.
Good Points
For the reader:
Instant gratification - see a title and get it immediately.
Millions of books between free to £2.99.
Can get an extract before buying.
Kindle can be carried anywhere.
Print size can be adjusted to suit.
Long battery life.(If you remember to turn wi-fi off.)
 For the writer:
Can self publish a book easily.
Receive all the royalties.
Know exactly how many books are sold.
Don't need an agent or publisher.

Bad Points.
For the reader:
Millions of badly written, and unedited books to trawl through.
Can't flick to the end of the book.
Badly formatted books even with major publishing houses.
New titles from major authors far too expensive.
No actual books to put on the bookshelf.
No  colour illustrations -doesn't work for children's books.
For the writer:
Have to pay for cover design and an editor.
Have to do all the marketing and promotion.
No actual book for bookshelf.
Reference books are not successful on the Kindle.

I'm definitely a fan of the new technology. I can  decide whether to give my latest Regency to a digital first publisher or put it up myself. I know several authors who have put up their entire backless and are selling  thousands of books.
That said, I will always buy hardback copies of certain authors. Reading on a Kindle is not as pleasurable an experience as opening a brand-new, beautifully covered, Bernard Cornwall or Lee Child. I read paper books downstairs and my Kindle in bed. My reference library will continue to grow as I need to be able to flip between sections when researching and this is impossible on a digital reader.
My research has turned up some interesting facts about Kindle readers - the facts seem to point to mainly middle-class women as owners of the Kindle. Men and teenagers seem to prefer paper books to electronic.
What do you think? Is this your experience?

best wishes
Fenella